Running and writing share many things in common, but perhaps nothing more important than this: while both are habit-forming, both also require a fair amount of self-discipline. So many things press upon our time that unless you run or write for a living, it can be difficult to keep up with either of them when other commitments—or distractions—interfere. The force of habit can reduce the pressure, automating these activities so that we don’t always have to devote our energy and attention to making the active choice to pursue them. Not only does this help us to meet our running and writing goals, but it also allows us to focus on other aspects of our lives.
Ben Franklin understood this way back in the eighteenth century, when he “conceived the bold and arduous project of arriving at moral perfection.”
Hitting a PR in a local 5k seems pretty doable by comparison.
As he describes in his autobiography, Franklin settled on thirteen virtues that he would need to cultivate to achieve his goal, and he devised a chart where he could track his daily progress:
Once he settled on his method, he determined to take things one step at a time:
My intention being to acquire the habitude of all these virtues, I judged it would be well not to distract my attention by attempting the whole at once, but to fix it on one of them at a time…. I determined to give a week’s strict attention to each of the virtues successively. Thus, in the first week, my great guard was to avoid every the least offense against Temperance, leaving the other virtues to their ordinary chance, only marking the faults of the day. Thus, if in the first week I could keep my first line, marked T, clear of spots, I supposed the habit of that virtue so much strengthened, and its opposite weakened, that I might venture extending my attention to include the next, and for the following week keep both lines clear of spots.
Franklin’s plan sounds startlingly familiar in an era of Fitbits® and all manner of methods for tracking our behavior, and no wonder. Countless books and apps have followed the path that Franklin blazed in his writing on self-improvement. The one that caught my eye recently is the project currently on IndieGoGo: “Pavlok—the Habit-Changing Device that Shocks You.” As the name suggests, this device blends Franklin-esque self-improvement with smart-device self-monitoring and Pavlovian conditioning, all in one handy device.
When I first read the description, I felt certain that it was satire; indeed, there is a degree of enthusiasm in the copy that lends itself to such a conclusion. But, no, it appears to be a real product.
But what really surprised me was how tempting I find the idea. I mean, just look at that description: “the first wearable that helps you form good habits and break bad habits by beeping, vibrating, or even shocking you when you need extra motivation.” Poor Franklin had to devote time each night to rigorously reviewing his behavior during the day, with nothing but a pencil and paper to help him. After wearing out countless pages, he finally upgraded his technology: “I transferred my tables and precepts to the ivory leaves of a memorandum book, on which the lines were drawn with red ink, that made a durable stain, and on those lines I marked my faults with a black lead pencil, which marks I could easily wipe out with a wet sponge.”
I don’t know about you, but I don’t think that really sounds all that easy.
But attaching a device to my wrist that will shock me whenever the GPS on my phone tells it that I haven’t started running by 6:00 a.m.? Now that sounds simple! Sign me up!
In truth, I don’t think I’m quite ready for a shock collar, no matter how much I may want to reinforce my good habits and break my bad ones. I am old-fashioned (see Ben Franklin quotations), and frugal, and perhaps too much a fan of 70s and 80s science-fiction films to ever put on punitive technology voluntarily, even if it’s supposed to be good for me.
Still, when discipline and good habits are in short supply, it’s tempting to look for the newest product, the newest self-improvement book, or even, for that matter, the oldest self-improvement book. This can even work, at least for a little while.
But time and time again, I keep finding that there is only one place to look for willpower, and it’s in the mirror.
No matter how cool it is, a device only works if you choose to wear it. You have to put on those new shoes and go for a run. That new laptop? It’s a fancy coaster unless you type on it.
Nothing shocking in that, of course. Ben Franklin understood it over two hundred years ago. There are no shortcuts. Just the decisions we make and the attention that we pay to them–slow, steady work, and self-reflection.
And maybe a pencil.
outsidereading 
