Habitual Regret
I've very recently started to work out with the intention of gaining weight and feeling stronger. All my life, I’ve felt like a twig trying to become a tree trunk, and the thought of eating and training to build my ‘dream physique’ has always felt paralyzing. From everything I know about body maintenance, it would likely take several years for me to feel like my body can do everything that I want it to. I'd like to be able to approach fatherhood with the confidence that I can hold my kids for hours a day. I want to be able to run a marathon with my twin sister. I want the act of looking in a mirror to bring me joy. These are milestones that I have been entrusting to my future self to achieve, but all this has done is set him up for failure.
As the saying goes, "How you spend your days is how you spend your life". The personalities and qualities of great people are emergent properties of their daily habits. Applying this framework to my own life is, most of the time, a humbling experience. Don't get me wrong, I think I'm fairly happy with my life right now, and I feel very grateful for all of the hard work that I've put in to get to where I am today. It's when I reflect on what I want to accomplish and how I should be spending my time to achieve these things that I realize something profound; there's a difference between living in the moment and living naturally in accordance with your goals.
When I began college in 2019, I took a class called LAS 101—an orientation course at the University of Illinois. We met twice a week for professional workshops, interviews with upperclassmen, and other career-focused activities. I vividly remember one particular class when we were given the classic writing prompt:
Where do you hope to see yourself in five years?
At nineteen, I felt apprehensive about answering that question. Sure, I had a rough idea of the person I wanted to become. I imagined myself as a software engineer, working to support humanity's technological progress and provide real value to others. I pictured myself in the best shape of my life, both as a runner and a climber, and I saw myself pursuing a PhD in Computer Science — becoming the first in my family to earn a doctorate. Even though I knew these things about myself, putting them down on paper felt like making a commitment, a binding vow I couldn’t break.
Since that assignment, I’ve certainly changed. Between the pandemic and other major life events, I’ve slightly shifted my career aspirations. But what really strikes me is that I’ve now become that five-years-older version of myself — and I realize I’ve made hardly any progress toward those ambitions. It makes me wonder: what other seeds have I planted but forgotten to water along the way? Over the past few years, I’ve focused on staying present and going with the flow, but I'm left with a habitual feeling of regret for not chasing after larger goals with more ambition. If I'm going to remedy this feeling, I have to do it day by day. Grand gestures simply won't do.
I’ve found that I develop habits best when I have a mantra or meditation that reduces the perceived activation energy needed to start a task. A good example of this is when I first wanted to start going to the gym. Despite living closer to a gym than I ever have before, the simple act of putting on workout clothes and walking through the front door felt exhausting. I thought that if I was going to the gym, I needed to make the most of my time there. That meant preparing a high-protein meal for after the workout, having the right supplements, and even buying extra athletic shorts so I could work out multiple times a week without constantly doing laundry. The list just kept growing. To stop this runaway train of thought, I started telling myself, Whatever I do right now, any action is better than inaction. More simply, my mantra became, “It’s better than nothing,” and it’s been working for me.
Should I go to the gym even if I only have 30 minutes? Sure — I can use the track to run a few miles or focus on practicing a new exercise. It’s better than nothing. Can I go for a slow, short run when I’m not feeling great? Of course, it’s still better than nothing. Reminding myself that any effort I put toward my fitness goal, no matter how small, is better than doing nothing allows me to feel proud of those small efforts. Even though I might not see immediate results, I know I’m doing myself a favor in the long run.
As I work on my physical goals, I’ve noticed how they influence my mental and emotional state. Even a short run or a quick gym session makes me feel more grounded and gives me a small sense of accomplishment. When I’m consistent, it helps me stay focused and less overwhelmed in other areas of my life. Each small physical step seems to quiet self-doubt, making it a little easier to keep moving forward mentally too. The things we do daily are a practice, and the things we practice are the ones we become skilled at. Procrastination is the practice of indifference, and I’d much rather get better at running, cooking, or making small talk than scrolling mindlessly through a vertical feed or wishing for things.
Sometimes, high-quality progress is about taking small steps and being okay with them, showing up even when it feels insignificant. It’s easy to get caught up in how far I still have to go, a tug-of-war between feeling the need for change and the anxiety that stops me before I even start. I have to remember that if I allow regret to become a habit, it can quickly turn into bitterness. The best way to avoid that trap is to keep things simple. Reminding myself that “It’s better than nothing” has helped me see that any effort, however small, still moves me forward and gives me something to feel good about. For now, that’s enough — embracing the small wins, trusting they’ll build up over time, and reminding myself that even small actions today are better than staying stuck in regret tomorrow.