Better Than Before: Mastering the Habits of Our Everyday Lives (5 page)

Promotion-focused people concentrate on achievement and advancement, on making gains, on getting more love, praise, pleasure. They eagerly and optimistically pursue their goals. By contrast, prevention-focused people concentrate on fulfilling their duties, on avoiding losses, and on minimizing danger, pain, or censure. They're vigilant against possible drawbacks or problems.

A good habit and a bad habit are the mirror images of each other; a person might want to “quit eating junk food” or “eat better,” or to “get more sleep” or “stop staying up too late.”

A promotion-focused person recycles in order to make the environment cleaner; a prevention-focused person recycles in order to avoid getting a fine. Different arguments resonate with different people, and it's helpful to frame a habit in the way that suits each individual.

Many people have better success adopting a habit when they
start with modest, manageable steps
. A series of minor but real accomplishments gives people the confidence to continue. In what influential behavior researcher B. J. Fogg calls “
tiny habits
,” a person may begin a habit by doing a single sit-up or reading one page, and by taking these tiny steps start on a path toward keeping that habit. The slow accumulation of small triumphs is encouraging—and very sustainable. Keeping changes modest can make it easier to stick to a new habit and to avoid the burnout that can hit when we try to make big changes all at once.

Also, by taking little steps, we gradually become accustomed to including a new habit in the pattern of our days. The habit of the habit is even more valuable than the habit itself; for instance, the habit of tracking expenses each day is more valuable than any one particular calculation. Keeping a habit, in the smallest way, protects and strengthens it. I write every day, even just a sentence, to keep my habit of daily writing strong. In high school, when I was trying to acquire the habit of running, I ran down the block until I'd passed three houses, then I turned back. After a few runs like that, I ran past four houses. Over time, I worked up to a few miles. By taking small, manageable steps, I managed to stick with running long enough to turn it into a habit.

Nevertheless, it's also true that
some people do better when they're very ambitious
. Sometimes, counterintuitively, it's easier to make a major change than a minor change. If a habit changes very gradually, we may lose interest, give way under stress, or dismiss the change as insignificant.

A big transformation generates an energy and excitement that helps to foster habits. As Steve Jobs reflected, “
I have a great respect
for incremental improvement, and I've done that sort of thing in my life, but I've always been attracted to the more revolutionary changes. I don't know why.” Along the same lines, my college roommate's motto was “Do everything all at once.”

A reader quoted a phrase from James Collins and Jerry Porras's book
Built to Last
: “BHAG—Big Hairy Audacious Goals, all the way. I resisted this for years, thinking that to shoot too high only meant I would fail. What I didn't realize was that shooting high motivated me much more.”

Sometimes a single unexpected question can illuminate a hidden aspect of my life. A question like “Do you tend to blame other people, or do you blame yourself?” can give me a fresh perspective on myself. So, in addition to identifying big personality distinctions, I came up with a list of short, straightforward questions to help me know myself better, so I could better tailor my habits to my nature.

At what time of day do I feel energized? When do I drag?

Do I like racing from one activity to another, or do I prefer unhurried transitions?

What activities take up my time but aren't particularly useful or stimulating?

Would I like to spend more time with friends, or by myself?

Do I have several things on my calendar that I anticipate with pleasure?

What can I do for hours without feeling bored?

What daily or weekly activity did I do for fun when I was ten years old?

What's most satisfying to me: saving time, or money, or effort?

Does it bother me to act differently from other people, or do I get a charge out of it?

Do I spend a lot of time on something that's important to someone else, but not to me?

If I had $500 that I had to spend on fun, how would I spend it?

Do I like to listen to experts, or do I prefer to figure things out for myself?

Does spending money on an activity make me feel more committed to it, or less committed?

Would I be happy to see my children have the life I've had?

Am I more likely to indulge in a bad habit in a group, or when I'm alone?

If I could magically, effortlessly change one habit in my life, what would it be?

If the people around me could change one of my habits, what would they choose?

Of my existing habits, which would I like to see my children adopt? Or not?

It wasn't until I asked myself, “Do I have several things on my calendar that I anticipate with pleasure?” that I realized my book groups played a crucial role in helping me to keep fun habits. In one book group, we read adult fiction, and in the other three, we read children's or young-adult books, and my belonging to these groups helps me enforce several valuable habits. It boosts my habit of reading (Essential Seven #4, rest, relax, and enjoy); it helps me to read new books instead of rereading old favorites, which is often my inclination (Essential Seven #5,accomplish more); and it means I meet new people and make regular plans with friends (Essential Seven #7, engage more deeply in relationships).

People often ask, “What are the
best
habits to follow?” as though there's one path that everyone should follow. Debate rages about which habits are most likely to foster creativity and productivity, yet the book
Daily Rituals
, Mason Currey's exhaustive examination of the work habits of 161 writers, composers, artists, scientists, and philosophers, makes one thing clear: while these brilliant people vary tremendously in the specific habits they follow, they all know very well
what habits work for them
,
and they make a great effort to maintain those habits.

Some have the habit of getting an early start (like Haruki Murakami) or working late into the night (like Tom Stoppard); of living a life of quiet predictability (like Charles Darwin) or of boozy revelry (like Toulouse-Lautrec); of procrastinating endlessly (like William James) or working regular hours (like Anthony Trollope); of working in silence (like Gustav Mahler) or of working amid a bustle of activity (like Jane Austen); of drinking a lot of alcohol (like Friedrich Schiller) or drinking a lot of coffee (like Kirkegaard); of producing work for many hours a day (like H. L. Mencken) or for just thirty minutes a day (like Gertrude Stein).

There's no magic formula—not for ourselves, and not for the people around us. We won't make ourselves more creative and productive by copying other people's habits, even the habits of geniuses; we must know our own nature, and what habits serve us best.

M
any strategies help us change our habits, and four strategies tower above the others: Monitoring, Foundation, Scheduling, and Accountability. They're so ubiquitous and familiar that it's easy to take them for granted—but they're invaluable. To make the most of the indispensable Pillars of Habits, we must take into account what we've learned about ourselves from the exercises in self-knowledge. For instance, the Strategy of Scheduling works for most people—but not for Rebels. The Strategy of Accountability works for most people—and it's essential for Obligers. The Strategies build on each other.

All our life, so far as it has definite form, is but a mass of habits—practical, emotional, and intellectual,—systematically organized for our weal or woe, and bearing us irresistibly toward our destiny.

—William James,
Talks to Teachers and Students

T
he Strategy of Monitoring has an uncanny power. It doesn't require change, but it often leads to change. To paraphrase a business school truism, “We manage what we monitor,” and keeping close track of our actions means we do better in categories such as eating, drinking, exercising, working, TV and Internet use, spending—and just about anything else. Self-measurement brings self-awareness, and self-awareness strengthens our self-control. Something as simple as a
roadside speed display
to show motorists how fast they're going helps them to slow down.

A key step for the Strategy of Monitoring is to identify precisely what action is monitored. Specific habits such as “Read the news every morning” or “Call one client each day” are easy to monitor, while vague resolutions such as “Be more informed” or “Cultivate better client relationships” are hard to monitor. I was reminded of Lord Kelvin's observation, overbroad but nevertheless thought-provoking: “When you cannot express it in number, your knowledge is of a meager and unsatisfactory kind.” If we want something to count in our lives, we should figure out a way to count it.

Actual measurement is crucial, because when we guess what we're doing, we're often wildly inaccurate. Unsurprisingly, we tend to underestimate how much we eat and overestimate how much we exercise. In one study,
people estimated that in the course
of daily activities (excluding exercise regimens) they walked about four miles; in fact, most walked less than two miles.

Accurate monitoring helps determine whether a habit is worth the time, money, or energy it consumes. A friend tracked his TV watching because he wanted to know if TV was eating up too much of his day (it was). I read about a woman who quit drinking because she figured that in six years she and her husband had spent almost $30,000 on alcohol—money they would've preferred to spend on something else. Aaron Beck, founder of cognitive behavioral therapy, maintains that people find it easy to notice what their partners do wrong, but not what they do right, so he suggests keeping “marriage diaries” to track partners' considerate behavior; one study showed that 70 percent of couples who did this tracking reported an improved relationship.

People who love to self-monitor can join the Quantified Self movement, a community of those who use technology to track every aspect of their daily life and performance—but most of us aren't ready to make quite such a commitment to the process. Monitoring is valuable, but it's also time-consuming and a bit tiresome, so I monitor only the aspects of my life that really matter.

I decided I needed to have a long talk with my sister, Elizabeth, about the Strategy of Monitoring. To my continual regret, Elizabeth lives far away; Los Angeles is a long flight from New York City, which means we don't often see each other, and there's a big time difference, which makes it hard to talk by phone. But one day I was determined to track her down, because I knew she'd have interesting insights about monitoring.

Elizabeth has type 1 diabetes, which means that her pancreas doesn't produce enough insulin. (In type 2 diabetes, which is far more common, the body produces insulin but doesn't react properly to it.) Without insulin, blood sugar can spike to dangerous, even life-threatening levels, so Elizabeth must give herself multiple daily insulin injections, and to inject herself correctly, she must know her blood sugar level. For years, she'd tested her blood sugar by pricking her finger to check her blood, but she'd recently gotten a device inserted under her skin to monitor her blood sugar continuously. I wanted to know if she found the monitor effective.

“Monitoring is
key
,” she said. “For years, I hated the idea of having a device attached to my stomach, but with diabetes, accurate tracking is so important that I finally caved. Now I can't imagine not having the monitor.”

When she told me she was getting the device, I'd imagined that it might administer insulin directly, or tell her what she needed. Nope. The monitor merely provides a continuous record of her blood sugar levels—but that information makes a big difference.

“Without a monitor, I might test my blood sugar ten times a day, but the monitor checks it constantly,” she explained. “I know where my blood sugar is and where it's heading. Also, I know the effect of what I'm doing, so I can't kid myself. Like I was eating this frozen yogurt that claimed to be low-carb, but from the readings I got on my monitor, I know that can't be true.”

“Even though the monitor doesn't actually
do
anything, seeing the numbers makes you behave differently?”

“For sure. Without a monitor, if I ate something questionable, I might unconsciously wait a few hours to test, so I'd get a better number, but that doesn't work with a monitor. I can't fool myself.”

That's why the Strategy of Monitoring works so well: no more fooling ourselves. I decided to exploit it for my own habits. If I had a better handle on what I was doing, I could focus my habit-formation energy in the right place. I suspected that in certain areas, I was giving myself more credit for good habits than I deserved.

First up: eating and exercise.

I care a lot about eating and exercise, partly for health, partly out of vanity. It's funny; I've noticed that many people focus mostly on one aspect of their appearance—a bald spot, wrinkles, a paunch, a “bad hair day”—and don't worry much about anything else. That's certainly true for me. I've always been focused on my weight.

I'm not alone in this concern about weight, of course. “Eat and drink more healthfully” is one of the Essential Seven, and while there are many good reasons to eat and drink more healthfully, weight loss is one of most important. As of 2010,
70 percent of Americans
were overweight
or obese, which increases risk of coronary heart disease, high blood pressure, stroke, type 2 diabetes, cancer, and sleep apnea, among other things. And it's not just about physical health. I felt sad when I overheard a woman at a conference say, “I was asked to give a TED talk, but I thought, ‘I can't do it, I'm not at a good weight right now.' ”

Until well after college, I'd considered myself overweight—not so overweight that it affected my health, but enough that it affected my self-image—and my weight really bothered me. Finally I managed to get to a number where I felt more at ease, and it's been a huge relief to feel comfortable with my size. This measure of ease still seems new, however, and my desire not to gain weight shapes many of my habits. I try very hard to make healthy food choices, and I exercise fairly regularly (though not very vigorously). Still, I could be doing better, and like just about most people, I loved the idea of painlessly dropping a few pounds. I wondered if monitoring would help.

For people who want to eat and drink more healthfully,
keeping a food journal
can be extremely effective. For instance, one study showed that dieters who kept a food journal six or seven days a week lost twice as much weight as people who did so once a week or not at all. Although keeping a food journal sounds straightforward, I braced myself for a challenge when I decided to try it. No one ever mentions how hard it is to keep a food journal, but I'd already tried and failed three times.

Along the same lines, I'd tried before to use a pedometer to count my steps. According to a 2003 study,
Americans, on average, walked 5,117 steps
each day, half of what's recommended. Research shows that
wearing a pedometer and trying to hit a goal
does make people more physically active, and when I'd worn a pedometer in the past, I'd definitely walked more. I'm the type who really relishes getting “credit” for every step I take. I'd eventually stopped wearing my pedometer, though, because it often fell off (once, into the toilet), and it looked ugly.

As I was considering various methods to track my eating and exercise, I read a
New York Times
article about the Jawbone UP band
, and I decided to try it. I'd wear a wristband to track my steps and my sleep, and sync the band to my phone through the headphone jack. I'd use my phone to read my results and to record the food that I ate.

But when the package arrived in the mail, my enthusiasm waned. As I lifted the small black and silver band out of its plastic case, I realized that I'd acquired yet another gadget to learn to use, to keep updated and charged. And more cords. “I'd better be more careful with this cap,” I thought, as I dropped the little piece of plastic onto the floor.

However, although I'd expected to find it onerous to sync the wristband to my phone twice a day, by the second day, I was syncing away, because I loved watching my activity numbers rise. Walking a mile requires about 2,000 steps, and I aimed to walk 10,000 steps each day. While research suggests that taking 10,000 steps does reduce obesity and heart disease, there's no particular evidence for 10,000 as opposed to 8,000 or 12,000. But 10,000 was a satisfying number, so I stuck with it.

The UP band also helped me do a much better job of food tracking than I'd ever done with my little notebook. In a surprisingly short period, I started to feel uneasy until I'd recorded food in my log. I'd think, “It's too much trouble to go get my phone now, I'll add this yogurt later,” but before long, I was hunting for my phone whenever I ate something.

As I tracked, I noticed several aspects of eating that make monitoring difficult. For one thing, it's often surprisingly hard to gauge “servings.” We're
poor judges of how much we're eating
, and studies suggest that we can eat servings that are about 20 percent bigger or smaller than a “serving size” without realizing it. Also, in what's called “
unit bias
,” we tend to finish a serving if it seems like a natural portion of “one,” and we tend to take one serving, no matter what the size. In a study where people could help themselves to big pretzels, people took one; when people were instead offered big pretzels cut in half, they took one half-pretzel. Also, eating directly from the container makes it impossible to monitor how much we're eating. Whether the product is candy or shampoo or cat food,
the bigger the package
, the more people use. (In what seems like an aspect of the same principle, I've noticed that I finish books faster when I have a bigger stack from the library.)

Taking bites while cooking, eating off plates, sharing food, or eating food served in multiple bite-sized servings—dim sum, tapas, hors d'oeuvres, petits fours, appetizers ordered for the table—also make it hard to track consumption accurately (which is likely part of their appeal). One way to monitor is to save the evidence left behind—the pile of bones, the peanut shells, the candy wrappers, the day's coffee cups or soda cans or beer bottles.

Context matters, too. One study of package design showed that
people avoid the smallest and largest
beverage sizes; therefore, if the smallest drink size is dropped, or a larger drink size is added (such as the Starbucks Trenta), people adjust their choices upward.

As the weeks wore on, along with keeping a food journal, I added a new monitoring habit:
No seconds
.
When people preplate their food
and eat just one helping, they eat about 14 percent less than when they take smaller servings and return for more helpings. I'd often pulled this trick myself: I'd give myself a small serving, then go back for more. The need to monitor exactly what I'd eaten, in order to record it, forced me to stop this little game.

As part of the Strategy of Monitoring, I decided to buy a digital scale to weigh myself. Although some experts advise people to weigh themselves just once a week to avoid becoming discouraged by natural fluctuations,
current research suggests that weighing each day
—which may strike some people as excessive—is associated with losing weight and keeping it off. Until now, I'd only weighed myself when I went to my cardio gym, but now I wanted to get serious about monitoring. (Side note:
people weigh their highest on Sunday
; their lowest, on Friday morning.)

I'd wanted to buy a scale for more than a year, but I put it off because of Eliza. Eliza is very easygoing, and although she spends a lot of time choosing her outfits, changing the color of her nail polish, and trying to grow her long brown hair still longer, she isn't preoccupied with her weight or any particular body part. Nevertheless, plunking down a scale in the bathroom that she shares with Jamie and me seemed like exactly the wrong message to send to a thirteen-year-old girl.

One of my Personal Commandments is to “Identify the problem.” What was the problem? “I want a digital scale, but I don't want Eliza to see it.” Solution: I bought the scale and put it in a little-used closet where she'd probably never find it.

People find other ways to monitor their bodies. A friend has a pair of jeans that she never wears except to pull them on to see whether they're tighter or looser than before. For myself, I'm much happier relying on my digital scale than on form-fitting clothes. Most days, I wear yoga pants and a hoodie—the point of which is that they're delightfully stretchy and nonconfining.

When I first started to use the UP band, I ignored its mood-monitoring and sleep-monitoring functions. Perhaps surprisingly for someone who's preoccupied with happiness, I had no interest in tracking my moods. As for sleep—I was a sleep
zealot
, so I didn't think I needed to monitor it. Sleep, as I remind anyone who gives me the opportunity, is crucial for good mental and physical health and a critical time for bodily repair and regulation. Lack of sleep negatively affects mood, memory, immune function, and pain sensitivity; it makes people more likely to fight with their partners; it contributes to weight gain.