Starting the cycle always seemed to feature the perfect first run— beautiful day, not too hot, mostly shady, vaguely humid. The next day was never as dreamy, the one after that was humid, and after that, too sunny. Each day slightly less lovely than the one before it until I stopped running altogether because compared to the beautiful-day-not-too-hot-mostly-shady-vaguely-humid run, these days weren’t worth the exertion. Until I was met once again with that unlikely combination of temperature and clear skies. And workouts, each one less lovely than the last, would trail after another perfect first run. A decrescendo that repeated again and again.
This round, the first run was wet, wind-whipped, freezing, and foggy. No pre-prepared, temperate day met me that afternoon. I had no music. I did not want to go. But I could not stay in the house any longer and I could not stay still, so I dug out my shoes and locked the door behind me. The next day it was rainy and cold but not windy, and I was at a loss. Compared to yesterday, this next run would be marginally more lovely than the first. And that would be true for almost all of the runs that followed. My usual weather-related excuses now had no comparative foundation.
I suppose I could have decided right then that comparison is not a good metric by which to make my decisions. I could have freed myself to stay immobile by declaring rain an absolute obstacle for all running endeavors. But I was looking for a reason to rid myself of excuses, so I avoided this line of thinking altogether and I ran on a rainy-cold-but-not-windy day. It was terrible. And the day after that was also terrible because running in the late winter is never pleasant. Yet compared to the first run, these that followed have been marginally more lovely.
Now, tired of believing in some inevitable decrescendo, I keep my shoes by the door and do not check the weather.
Waiting for the perfect moment to begin a habit means that I never start. Idyllic starting environments are unlikely to repeat themselves, so every subsequent attempt at my activity-to-be-habituated is harder than the first. And the inevitable comparison is discouraging and demotivating. But if I start a habit under crappy circumstances, or even average ones, it’s much easier to weather the natural ups and downs of changing circumstances. If I have an example for myself of my own toughness— a first run in terrible conditions, for example— then I’m more successful in the future at believing in my capabilities, mustering motivation, and building a habit.