Failing to Systems

Getting back up is just as important as riding

I’m currently failing. If you’ve been following my work for a while, you know that I enjoy writing about systems that reinforce my desired identities. Identities like being a runner and a plant based home cook, among others. While those habits and systems are great, like all good machines, they require continuous input to keep running.

Every so often, I find that I lose my resolve to keep the machines humming along. I miss a day, then two, then all of a sudden I’m well off track. I get derailed. I’m writing to you from the middle of the trainwreck now. I haven’t run once this month, I didn’t publish an essay last week, and I’ve eaten meat out of convenience over the last 15 days or so. My systems are down, I’m not making deposits, and I’m unmoored.

I haven’t run in weeks…

When I say I’m failing, what I mean is that I’m not executing the habits and systems that help me be the best and most optimal version of myself. Waking up early, running every day, eating plant based meals, etc. These are important but low stakes things to fail at. Missing them simply means being less efficient, and living in a more reactive way. 

Derails like this are always attributable to some kind of shock. In the past, this shock almost always came in the form of a supreme hangover. As my alcoholism intensified over the years, the number of days between derails steadily reduced. At the height of my drinking, I couldn’t make it past the weekend, and deep down, I knew that my systems didn’t stand a chance of running long term. Once I got sober, I figured my machines would stay online for good.

Even though I just celebrated my two year sober anniversary, I still find myself getting derailed by other external shocks every now and again. I can just go a hell of a lot longer between trainwrecks these days. In today’s case, the confluence of demanding job interviews, buying a house, moving immediately thereafter, and preparing for a 10 day cross country trip have all swirled together to knock me off my game.

In contrast to self destructive hangovers, these are all positive shocks. I’m on the precipice of massive life changes, and each new dimension of change demands a lot of attention, monopolizing my energy and focus to the detriment of running my machines.

The machines stood idle while I was consumed with a data analysis exercise for my final job interview. The moment that finished, my attention was fully directed to dotting every i and crossing every t before closing on a house. Before the ink could dry on the contracts, I found myself sprinting to pack up our lives ahead of a move from Chattanooga to Birmingham. This string of events has spanned the past month or so, and all the while the machines have dutifully stood by, waiting to be dusted off and kicked on again.

There are high stakes things that I cannot, and am not, failing at. If I have a drink, I will surely lose my marriage. If I don’t get back to work, I will go broke. As crazy and hectic as life can get, as long as I don’t fail at these things, I can stay afloat. It’s messy, but it’s sustainable for as long as I need it to be. It’s emergency maneuvers during a tempestuous storm. 

My machines, by contrast, are built for smooth sailing, which thankfully describe the vast majority of my days. When I give up my best-self routines, it has to be for a good reason. I’ve been at this long enough to know that getting knocked off course is to be expected, and even embraced. Returning back to my machines after a time away helps me further tune and calibrate them for whatever new chapter I find myself beginning.

Deliberately stepping away from the machines means not beating myself up for breaking my running streak. It means giving myself grace in the kitchen because I need to focus elsewhere in the short term. I can do this confidently because I’m good at turning the machines back on. How you get back on the horse is just as important as how well you ride. 

Getting back on the horse is its own little machine, and serves as an important release valve when the systems begin to overload. I’ve found that it’s unrealistic to assume I’ll perfectly run my machines forever. Anticipating and even optimizing for the next derail allows me to embrace it when it comes and effectively adds a level of resilience to any long term, identity-based pursuit. 

The next time you find yourself failing like I am now, ask yourself if perhaps it’s exactly what the situation demands. Then focus your attention on what getting back on the horse will look like.