Strategic urgency

Fast, for sure, but never in a rush. (SDASM Archives)

I’ve noticed that hurrying is a habit.

There’s a comfortable walking pace — and then there’s the faster, “I’m either running late or being chased by someone” version.

There’s a comfortable driving speed, and then there’s following the car in front of you too closely, running yellow lights, and drumming your fingers on the steering wheel impatiently whenever you happen to be stopped.

The hurrying even happens in my head. I feel it when I’m willing someone else to move faster or desperately trying to come up with an idea or solve a problem on a deadline.

I have learned how to take note of these moments in which I’m pushing or rushing. Most of the time, I don’t actually make faster progress — I just stress myself out.

And for the most part, there’s no reason to be in a hurry. There will be plenty of time if I plan ahead, decide to do less, and keep my mind and body connected to each other.

Back to the comfortable walking pace: I would say it’s about three miles per hour. That’s how fast I tend to walk if I’m not thinking about how fast I’m walking.

At that rate, it takes about 20 minutes to walk the mile to my office. If I hurry, I can get up to a speed of four miles per hour, saving myself five minutes on the trip.

However, the resulting fifteen-minute walk is no fun. I can only maintain that pace if I consciously think about it — there's no freedom to let my thoughts drift elsewhere.

Stopping to cross the street becomes a waste of precious seconds, and slow pedestrians become a nuisance or even a hazard. That fast walker arrives at her destination sweaty, irritated, and tired.

After a lifetime of chronic lateness, I’d rather allow more time than hurry. Which means I have to plan ahead and make better decisions about what to do and what to cut. I’m still not great at it, but I understand better what the costs are to not doing it. Hurrying is too high a price to pay.

While I like to stay busy, I’ve tried to set up my life so that I don’t have to hurry all the time. I want time to reflect, time to daydream, time to fold this shirt just so.

Over the years, I even extended this idea to my life as a whole. I never had a checklist of things I wanted to accomplish by thirty or forty. I wanted to allow events to unfold naturally, without fear as a driver.

However, along the way I learned that I can deploy speed strategically, for fun. Running fast is a joyful, exhilarating experience, totally unlike the fast walking.

In my work, I’ve taken advantage of an otherwise neutral, relaxed pace to craft temporary periods of intense activity. This strategic urgency feels like a game and allows me to accomplish more than I otherwise would without frustration or exhaustion. I do the work, and then I rest.

I can’t do it if I’m trying to do it all the time. But if, like a racehorse, I get to recharge when I’m off duty, I can perform at a high level.

Just as running is a delight when it’s done for fun in short bursts, intense work can be satisfying and pleasurable when it’s not continuous. In order to make that work, I have to scale back my expectations the rest of the time. I can’t be constantly pushing to the edge of my capabilities. It’s better if I’m doing the equivalent of walking three miles per hour, relaxed and easy. Then, I will relish the challenge of a higher level of intensity and time pressure.