anti running streak
Dimity’s pandemic calendar–or Dimity’s family pandemic calendar, actually. So much space; so little pressure.

[Read Tish’s counterpoint: Pro Running Streak: Day 260 (and Counting!) of Daily Movement]

Before I start, let me be clear: I am not anti running streak—or any streak— for you. If you’ve run for 1,000 days straight, I tip my sweaty hat to you. If you’re a Whole 30 devotee, have at it. If you’ve set up a DIY flossing challenge, awesome. I hope your teeth thank you.

I am against embarking on streaks for me because, having inhabited this tall body and swirling mind for nearly half a century, I know the benefits of a streak will be outweighed by the (self-imposed) pressure I’ll feel to perform. Sooner than later, the mile-a-day or 100-ounces-of-water or another self-imposed task will end up in my mental file as another project left unfinished, another slice of disappointment.

The stack of books I checkout regularly from the library makes it look like I’m full-time English lit student (I’m not). The simple needlepoint I want to finish for my daughter’s high school graduation is, I kid you not, 16 years old. I’d give myself 50/50 odds of finishing it in the next 3 months.

anti running streak
The nearly ancient needlepoint—and instructions Dimity has to pull out every time to remind herself how to do it.

In other words, my plates, already plenty full and precariously spinning, don’t need another streaky entrée to weigh them down.

Plus, I often include “adventure” when I get all Brene Brown and name my personal values. Even if I’m not winging to Patagonia anytime soon for a glacier trek, a streak feels a bit too confining.

The only recent streaks I accidentally started—and stopped—and started—and stopped—are meditation ones. I use Insight Timer, a free app, and at the end of each session, it tells you how many days of you’ve meditated in a row. (I am not sure if you can turn this feature off; if so, maybe I should.)

I would rack up two or three days, and have grand imaginings about getting to 13 or 45 or 82 days—and then fantasize about how much easier meditation would be on day 13 or 45 or 82. (I am naturally an object in motion, and meditation is one of the hardest things I’ve attempted.)

Back in real life, after I’d miss a day or eight, the little circle would gradually fill in the number one again. As it did so, instead of celebrating that I showed up to concentrate on inhales and exhales, I’d immediately mentally fast forward. Now you need two, then three, Dimity; how are you going to do that? How are you going to keep it up?

I sabotaged the important act of showing up by berating myself for not being streak-y enough. I’ve got enough mindfulness to know that isn’t super effective.

A similar thought pattern happened with swimming; after a master’s coach told me you needed to be in the pool three days a week to, “be worth it”, my once-weekly chlorinated sessions felt feeble.

My immediate reaction: Why do something if improvement wasn’t imminent?

Take a deep inhale and exhale, then process my more thoughtful perspective: Oh, because the act of swimming itself is delicious: sensory deprivation, combined with the water’s full support of my long limbs and my rhythmic breathing, soothes me in a way very few things do.

I admire a full journal with no breaks. I truly do. But when I look at my own calendar and see one swim, a single meditation session, and a random hike with a friend, I realize I’m giving myself both space to simply enjoy an activity and grace to know it’s enough, no strings attached.

And that, I imagine, feels as fulfilling as a streak may.

[Read Tish’s counterpoint: Pro Running Streak: Day 260 (and Counting!) of Daily Movement]

Are you anti running streak?
Do streaks in general feel too demanding to you?