I used to have a solid morning routine. It was the cornerstone of my day. My sanity depended on it.
Last month my daughter was born. Amazing. I couldn’t be happier.
But I have a little baby who runs my mornings now.
Sanity gone.
It had taken me years to build this routine and in one fell swoop it was taken away from me. For weeks now I’ve been walking around my house with more than a thick scruff. Disillusioned, confused, and absent-minded. Like a Mayan walking around an empty ruin wondering where everybody has gone.
I’m still in the 1st month of my newborn’s life and very slowly the dust is settling. My girlfriend and I are trying our best to find back some of our former rhythms. And the morning routine is the first thing I’m aiming to get back on track.
The routine
Before, the components of my routine were clear. And I defended them fiercely.
- Early rise at the same time every day.
- Fold my blanket
- Take a cold shower
- Meditate & breathwork
- Journal
- Read
- Breakfast
But now, it’s all messy. Wake up time? Unknown. Time to do anything else? Maybe, probably not. Eat standing up if you’re lucky.
Haphazard is the new name of the game.
For a few days now, strangely, one item on the list is back in full swing. Consistently. And it’s here to stay.
Sure, some mornings I fold my blanket when I get up, but not every day. If I’m lucky I can squeeze in some meditation when the house is still asleep, sometimes. Must be journaling or reading then? Breakfast? No. Surprisingly, it’s the least-desirable thing on the list: cold showers.
Asking for it
It’s early in the morning and the house is dark and unwelcoming. My eyes are open but I can’t see. There’s no warmth left from the day before. Dragging my body through a cold hallway I stumble into an even colder bathroom. What I’m about to do makes no sense.
I undress, step into the shower, turn the faucet to cold, and turn it on. I try not to move for as long as I can. My neck and back are getting the first blow. Instead of shrieking, I try breathing (or gasping rather).
Obviously, it’s freezing. But I’m not done. Then I turn around. My chest and face are up next. This horror show continues for minutes until I’m fully miserable.
Micro challenge
Why are cold showers the first to return consistently? How does something so unpleasant in the first place is the first thing I get back on track. It’s almost as if I like it (scrunches face).
Sure, it has all kinds of physiological, mental, and health benefits (weight stability, nitric oxide production, blood flow etc.). That’s why I originally got interested in it. Who doesn’t know my countryman Wim Hoff and his amazing research (and performance) into the field of cold and the immune system?
Yes, I’m into stoicism and self-improvement. Yes, I put a lot of effort in building good habits and routines. And I’d love to sit here and pretend that I’m this tough guy that just showers cold because of his amazing character. But I’m not that guy. Walking towards the bathroom I always make excuses and I always dilly dally. Maybe I don’t have enough time today? Maybe something else is more pressing? Don’t I deserve a hot shower for once? I hang around in the bathroom looking for things to do before I jump in. But I always jump in.
The reason I keep coming back to taking a cold shower first thing in the morning (when the house is already cold and everything points to staying under the warm, comforting sheets) is that it’s a micro challenge.
It’s something that I don’t want to do, but do anyway. I start off my day with the feeling of overcoming something. It’s a small win, and it spills over into the rest of my day. It’s a spark plug that jumpstarts everything else.
Of course there are other payoffs. The moment when you turn off the faucet is golden. Glowing with a natural buzz (I’m guessing some endorphins are at play here) and high from feeling the relatively warm air to my freezing skin.
It feels great. I’m proud of myself. I can give myself a pat on the back now. And I often do. Picture it.
Keep it micro
Of course, I can only do minutes because I started with seconds. In the very beginning I jumped into the cold water and jumped back out a second later. That was my ‘cold shower’ for the day. And I’m talking summer, when a refreshing cold shower is desired.
But when winter comes I’d love to shrivel up into a corner (and part of me does 😉 )
Keeping at it, the seconds kept adding up before I leaped out like a startled cat. Those seconds were agony. My body felt like it was raw from frostbite for minutes after. But it quickly got easier and I could stay under the gushing stream of terror for longer. I was training myself to be okay with being uncomfortable for a moment. And then stretching the moment.
It’s the same with any progressive habit. Like weightlifting. You start with a weight you can actually pick up. When the muscle grows you move up the scale.
Discomfort please!
Life is about growth. Comfort blocks growth. But it’s alluring. Humans are inherently energy savers and we’re drawn to comfort in a big way. I know I am. When I’m not paying attention, I unconsciously pay for all kinds of products that promise to make my life easier. And it’s a slippery slope.
But you can’t give in to comfort. And the way to not let it rule over you is to implement small (tiny even) “uncomfortables”. Standing under cold water for a short period of time and dealing with the uncomfortableness of it is one of the best ways I’ve found to train myself.
So it’s the first thing I return to when all the rest of my life is chaos.