Timeboxing Only Works with Packing Boxes
I've recently made a move, a move from point A to point B, a physical place to another. And something fascinating happened. Everything fit into the one-time purchase of my packing boxes. I initially bought six, and all the stuff I need to store magically fit. It was oddly satisfying. If only our metaphorical "Time Box" works that way. That somehow, when I allot a Time Box to a task, I don't need any more Boxes. More times than not, time tends to overflow. It is oh so easy to fill up time. And I like to fill ten big things into six tiny Time Boxes.
Eight months ago, I made a different move (more forcing function than personal choice), I no longer have a job in tech. Serendipitously, I was about to start another gig, teaching Pilates. I thought I'd have a lot of free time, it takes a while to build up a full teaching schedule. This is perfect, I'll have more time to read, write, learn, and train for my marathon. Both unexpectedly and expectedly, time & energy don't fit into boxes like clothes and shoes do.
In the last 8 months, I felt like I both did a lot and didn't do enough. I went from teaching two classes to teaching approximately 13-19 classes per week, from one location with one studio to six locations with two different companies. From only group classes to few consistent privates. Yet...I want to do more. What is it about humans wanting to fit things into boxes we may not have? Or are we just terrible at gauging how much time there is available? Probably both.
Unlike a move from house A to house B, time doesn't move linearly, no matter how much we think it does. Time and energy are not as predictable as how many shoes I can fit into a large 24x18x18 Home Depot box. Psychologically, our brains like things now, we're not good at thinking into the abstract future (I believe this is called temporal discounting), it's harder for us to plan long-term. I don't quite know how to get to Point B (Pilates) from A (tech). I'm not sure if I'll ever fully arrive to that point. And that is exciting, and scary. Without corporate structure, my box is amorphous. Should I double down on teaching? Should I get more Pilates certifications? Should I start my own studio? Should I create content? Should I keep up with AI so I can go back to Point A? The possibilities are endless, and overwhelming.
In marathons, we know the end point is at 26.2 miles, but the road there is unpredictable no matter how prepared we are, how hard we train. That's what makes it appealing as a distance, you have more room to fail, it is usually the darkest before the dawn. When you get to the end, though you want to go again. It's one of those experiences where I'll cry and laugh at once. One strategy is to break the distance down, start with one 5k, then another 5k, then somehow you're on the eighth 5k. In psychology and technology, I believe this is called chunking. Instead of strictly timeboxing with edges and deadlines, maybe I should chunk. For example, start with deepening my teaching skills as a chunk instead of getting fully certified by end of the year. I'll still work towards the certification, but not have the hard deadline. We don't obsess over mile 26 at mile 1, we run the mile we are in. We may not fit time into a box, we can run 5k at a time.