Slowly Is the Fastest Way To Get Where You Want To Be

How forcing myself to run slower gave me perspective on rushing through life.

My wife always judged the way I ran. Almost every time we went to the gym together, she would look at me panting on a treadmill and say, “It’s as if you don’t love yourself. You’re torturing yourself.” Then she’d get into a hot tub, letting out a relaxing sigh, followed by a meditative swim in the Olympic-sized pool. She seemed so relaxed, in control, and different from the neurotic-never-giving-up me. I watched her through the glass windows of the gym that revealed the pool as I pushed myself through chest pain, leg pain — and generally, pain — feeling like my lungs were about to explode, wanting to throw in the towel, but telling myself instead to “shut up and keep going.”

At first, I didn’t understand what she meant by that word — torture. To me, it seemed obvious to have a hard time working out. That’s what working out is, isn’t it? It’s all about making your best. Pushing yourself past the pain and exhaustion, eventually hitting the goal (in my case, of running 10K per day), and building a better body. To me, working out was supposed to be torture. If it wasn’t, it felt like a cop-out. The phrase “love yourself” and the concept of working out seemed complete opposites.

Then, suddenly, I started having consistent heart palpitations. Soon, these palpitations turned into full-blown panic attacks, adrenaline rushing through my body, making me anxious about having a heart attack and messing up my sleep patterns. Indeed, my exhausting runs weren’t doing good for my heart health. I decided to heed my wife’s advice and cut myself some slack the next time I ran on a treadmill. Who knows, maybe my wife was right.

The next time I ran, I purposefully decreased the running speed. From 12 kilometers per hour, I shifted to 10. The hour-long run — that used to be all about me closely watching how much I ran, desperately wanting this thing to be over — came by so quickly, I didn’t even notice. It turns out, I had the “runner’s high” that I read about but never experienced — when time ceases to exist and running feels like gliding through water. For the first time in a long while, I enjoyed my run. My goal of 10K was completed in about the same amount of time — but the effect was much more pleasurable.

That experience made me think about how often we rush through things to get something in the future (a goal) or avoid the anxiety of missing out on something. I once read that “if you go twice as slow, you’ll still get there on time” — and this applies to rushing through red-light traffic as much as to general life goals. The more I learn, the more I see that slowly is the fastest way to get where you want to be. Because your progress — in anything — is built on the foundation of previous progress. When you rush through things, you don’t give things enough time to solidify. You don’t notice what’s happening. You don’t learn as much as you would be by slowing down and looking closer. Ultimately, you sabotage your progress.

It’s easy to fall into the trap of obsessing about “getting it right” at the expense of enjoying ourselves. But when you look back on your life, you won’t see it through the prism of goals achieved. You’ll see it as an ongoing process. It’s best if that process is enjoyable. Now is all you’ve got. No goal is worth sacrificing the day-to-day because the day-to-day is all there is. “Forever,” as Emily Dickinson wrote, “is comprised of nows.” Life is nothing but a collection of many today-s.

My father once told me about a marathon runner who tells himself to “run with peace of mind.” Now I fully understand what he meant. I try to run with peace of mind these days instead of torturing myself. Not only does it make my runs more enjoyable — it makes me look forward to them as something pleasurable, not something I’ll have to “struggle through.” I also try to apply the same “peace of mind” approach to my everyday activities, including writing. Hemingway famously finished his writing sessions when he knew what he would write next — that’s what kept him going over the long haul. Learning to balance productivity with long-term sustainability and daily enjoyment is something we all should focus on more often.

It turns out my wife was right. She always is. At the same time, I stopped torturing myself on my runs.