Planning around the inconvenience of being human

Theoretically, we’re supposed to wake up with the sun — but have we accounted for electric lights late at night, blackout curtains, and time zones that require you to commute in the dark? (Image by Joachim Thiemann)

It’s nice to be able to wake up without the alarm.

I did that for most of the summer, popping awake sometime between 4:30 AM and 6 AM. The morning is when I get my best work done, so I usually set up my days to make the most of these hours.

In the summer, I didn’t have to try. But lately, well…no matter how early I go to bed, even if I get a full eight hours of sleep, I’m still groggy and disoriented when the ol’ alarm goes off.

Eight hours of sleep, eight glasses of water, and three meals a day sounds good in theory. It would be nice to be able to work regular nine-to-five hours and work out four days a week at scheduled times. But annoyingly, our bodies don’t conform to our expectations. We might have trouble concentrating during the period we had scheduled for work or be unaccountably hungry two hours after lunch. We need breaks, fresh air, and a good mix of novelty and routine…and sometimes, a random YouTube video makes us weep and we need time to compose ourselves (just me?).

In this weird time when so many of us have far more control over our time than we have heretofore been used to, we have a rare opportunity to pace the day according to our own preferences. It might be tempting to design the perfect schedule to give us a high level of structure — remember when those color-coded abominations appeared at the start of the pandemic? It might also be tempting to sleep in and watch a lot of Netflix. However, neither of these extremes are likely to lead to success.

I believe that the best plans, whether daily or long-term, balance our humanity with our aspirations. Such a plan has enough structure for us to be successful, but not so much that it crumbles the first time we take a coffee break at the wrong time. We have to build in room for the natural variation we might have in performance from day to day. Maybe things will things to take longer on the days when we feel sluggish, and we’ll need a second breakfast every so often (just me?). And sometimes, an entire project might be put on hold for a few days because we’re making enthusiastic progress on a different one.

Often, the planning periods during which I am making decisions for the future correlate with periods of high energy and clarity. In these times, I might design an idealized future that assumes that I will always feel that same energy and clarity. Unfortunately, being human, I cannot rely on this. There will be a natural ebb and flow to my capacity for high-level work over the course of days, weeks, or months, and I’ve got to account for that. My lack of ability to be perfect is not a failure.

So maybe your schedule now allows you to skip the commute. Maybe you have fewer meetings to attend and you don’t have to pack a lunch. Theoretically, you can start work in your jammies and keep going until you feel like being done for the day. If that works for you, great; for me, it’s a recipe for listlessness and anxiety. I’ve got to get dressed, eat healthy meals, go for walks, and define clear start and end times to my workday. Some days, I can get eight hours of work done in blocks scattered throughout the day; some days, I am lucky if my time on task adds up to three hours. I accept the slower days along with the more productive ones, knowing that it will all even out in the end and my schedule will keep me on track.

It’s a bit inconvenient to be human. To make the best of it, we have to factor our own inconsistency and unpredictability into our planning. When we can do this, we’ll get it right sometimes; the other times, we can rearrange things and adapt to our strengths and weaknesses. It will all work out in the end, if we just keep trying. That’s the consistency that matters.