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As winter closes in, and as it gets harder to find the motivation to cycle to work each morning, I’m reminded of a piece of advice a friend gave me on a kayaking trip in New Zealand.

“It’s best to start an adventure a little cold. Once you get moving, you’ll be comfortable in no time. But, whatever you do, don’t start toasty, as you’ll overheat before you really get going.”

There are a few lessons in here.

Cold starts are uncomfortable, but maybe we’re just getting used to something new.

And, better a cold start than a burnout.

Google Maps for cycle routes is still clunky. I’ve often had the voice-based directions stop halfway through a journey, requiring me to reset the route.

So I decided to give Beeline a try this weekend. Beeline is a hardware and app-based navigation tool for cyclists. Instead of giving the cyclist an explicit route to follow, the Beeline app provides a large arrow indicating a general direction of travel to get to a destination.

And the principle is simple: if you’re not in a rush, and as long as you are following the arrow, you’ll get to wherever you’re headed.

Unfortunately, Beeline disappointed.

Their underlying technology isn’t impressive. They use the Google Maps Platform (which isn’t a bad thing, as even companies like Uber use it for all their mapping), but it seems like their main “innovation” is simply removing the map and replacing it with an arrow. I found this unconvincing.

I was sent down wrong streets and into hairy situations. In one particular moment, I was prompted with little notice to cross a 4-lane street and then turn at an intersection with 6 different entry and exit points. If you’ve cycled in London before, you don’t need this additional stress.

The GPS wasn’t working. For some reason, Beeline always thought I was facing north, so I received multiple prompts to “turn around” and go the opposite way to my destination. I tried multiple times to reset the route to no avail. This was frustrating.

I expected Beeline to work “out of the box”. And when it didn’t, and especially when I started to feel unsafe, it lost its opportunity to impress me.

I got me thinking about how we expect technology to work immediately. And how those expectations have increased even compared to ten years ago, when we were willing to put up with a buggy product if it was new and innovative.

Creating an experience with “first time magic” is a thing, and I wonder what impact that will have on future entrepreneurs and designers launching the first versions of their products into the world. Will they continue to launch quickly with a passable Minimum Viable Product, or will success require a great first time experience?

This is the ‘I Goat Statue’ in London’s Spitalfields Market.

Despite walking past it every day on the way to work, it took two years before I noticed it existed.

In stark contrast, when my brother-in-law was visiting from New Zealand last month, the moment he set foot in the market he commented on the imposing goat that loomed above us. To him, the statue was unmissable from the get-go.

It’s highly likely the people you encounter today will see the world differently to you.

Your story, values, fears, dreams, and instincts, are not theirs. These differences can drive us apart, or they can help us build something better.

The first, and most important, step is to accept that we may see things differently, and that’s okay.

When a trained horse is out on the trail, the rider can lead, and the horse will go willingly. However, when the horse sees the barn door, its finish line for the day’s work, it races toward the stable; mind unchangeable.

This behaviour, the tendency to bolt for the finish line when it’s in sight, was coined as “The Barn Door Effect”.

Humans aren’t immune to its effects either.

A study conducted on pilots found that en-route and at altitude, they would reliably change their course to avoid a dangerous thunderstorm. However, with the runway in sight, pilots were more likely to fly directly under the storm if they’d seen a previous plane make the trip safely.

It wouldn’t be right to claim The Barn Door Effect as an official law based on multiple peer-reviewed empirical studies, because it’s not. But it’s easy to feel the impact of the law in our day-to-day lives.

In malls and retail stores, it is common to see, “Sale On Now! 3 Days left!” plastered on the windows to invite consumers inside.

In a B2B negotiation, it’s normal to hear the selling party say, “You’ll need to accept the terms of the agreement by the end of the week or else the deal is off.”

Or even when you’re rushing to get home for family dinner, to think, “I don’t need to check my work before sending, I’m sure it’ll be okay.”

When we’re faced with the cocktail of 1) a finish line in sight, 2) time-based pressure, and 3) a decision containing risk, the barn door effect can lead us to making poor decisions.

Being aware of the finish line, and the pressures others may place on you, or the pressures you place on yourself, can be the key to avoiding some hairy consequences.

Here is a rule I’ve used over the past year to avoid spending money on that which I want, but do not need.

When I see something I’d like to buy (that falls outside of “baseline expenditure” of rent, food, transport, books, and experiences), I set a reminder in my calendar for 2 months.

If at the end of the 2 month period, I still want the item with the same fervour, then it passes the test, and I buy it. In other words, it’s more than a whim.

Most of the time, 2 months down the road, I no longer want the item.

This rule ensures the physical things in our lives are of real value, and helps us avoid the clutter that comes with accumulation.

But perhaps its biggest benefit is in preserving optionality: I can do something in the future with the money I didn’t spend today.

I’ve lived a few stone throws from London’s famous Roundhouse Theatre for 3 years, but I’ve yet to see a show there.

Whenever I walk past it, I make a mental note to, eventually, pick a show and go.

It got me reflecting on how the most accessible experiences can often get sidelined. It’s not that the exotic or far-flung experience is better, but rather that what is close-to-home is “always going to be there.”

Maru came to the rescue by booking tickets for us to see Uruguayan musician, Jorge Drexler, at the Roundhouse in January. Slowly but surely, I’m getting round to the more local experiences.

Is there an activity close-to-home you’d like to make time for in the new year?

The weight isn’t as important as the time under tension.

When taking on challenges, we’ll break if the load is too heavy.

But a weight carried over a sustained period can lead to growth.

Whether that growth be muscle, knowledge, kindness, vision, empathy, or wisdom.

Central London is full of nondescript office buildings with all-glass facades.

With many windows, come many cleaners.

One building, just across the road from Bulb, has 9 full-time window washers. They operate on a monthly cycle, methodically washing the windows on the 12-story building over 4 weeks, only to start all over again at the beginning of the next month.

The endless maintenance is painful to watch.

Despite the above window washing routine seeming absurd, it’s surprisingly easy to make similar costly decisions in our own lives.

Flying with a low-cost airline where that “Barcelona Airport” is a “convenient 2 hour bus ride from the city centre,” catches many travellers by surprise.

Choosing a flat an extra 15 minutes walk to public transport adds up when you consider your commuting time over the course of a year.

It’s easy to forget at the point of decision, but there is a maintenance cost with every option.

Seeds. Blog posts. Travel plans. Career moves. Stand-up routines. Home renovations. Side hustles. Further study. Business ventures.

The act of bringing something new to the world often requires a period of germination.

Granting ourselves enough time to pause, ponder, and reflect, can feel uncomfortable. But what’s the cost of not doing it?

The idea is rarely ripe the moment it’s born.

I’ve often reflected this year on 3 questions from Laurence Endersen’s book, Pebbles of Perception.

1. Where would you love to live?
2. Why that place?
3. If you are not living there now, why not?

The true power of these questions emerge when we consider not just where we want to live, but rather what kind of home we want to live in.

Who do we share that home with? Why those people, and not others? Do we give them our undivided attention? Have we earned their trust? Is there comfort in silence? Is laughter easy to come by? Are there safe shoulders to cry on?

Where we live matters, but how we live in that space, and with whom, matters more.

The benefits of cold showers for one’s health and work have been proven.

Yet earlier this year, less than 2 days after incorporating them into my morning routine, I came down with a cold. Frustrated, I promptly stopped my cold shower experiment, deeming it a failure.

My response was irrational.

I let my anecdotal experience, and the unlucky timing of the cold, overpower the evidence of a randomised controlled trial.

This experiment was small and inconsequential, so my decision resulted in no negative consequences. But what if this behaviour was repeated for a consequential decision? The risks suddenly become much greater.

Big life decisions need both data and emotion, as life would lose its lustre if we were robotic. However, it’s a helpful reminder to not let anecdotal evidence overshadow the evidence base.

Now, time to try the experiment again.

“And then what?” is a helpful question to ask before making big decisions.

We’re usually aware of the immediate impacts of our decisions; that’s the easy part. The hard part is remembering that the consequences of our decisions also have consequences.

For example, opting out of travel insurance saves money immediately and means more can be spent on the holiday, but we’re unprotected from a hefty financial burden if something goes wrong on the trip.

The habit of asking, “And then what?” is part of a practice called Second-Order Thinking. It asks us to cast our minds forward and think about the long-term impacts of the decisions we make today.

Practising Second-Order Thinking by asking, “And then what?” isn’t hard, we just need to remember to use it for it to be helpful.

I made a mistake in the first year of my career: eager to impress, I worked without a holiday for 12 months. With 25 days of unused vacation, I took an extended break at the end of the year.

Imbalanced.

Too few rest days during the year, and more than I needed at the end.

That year, I learnt the value of well-timed rest periods, and I’ve (mostly) kept to a steady rhythm of Sprints and Rest ever since.

A sprint is a 12-14 week period of work.

A rest is 1 full week of holiday.

I’ve found the Sprint / Rest model has 3 main benefits:

1. Sprints periods are the right length of time to set and achieve ambitious goals
2. During each sprint, regardless of how strenuous it is, there is always a rest period to look forward to; that’s helpful
3. At the end of a sprint, I get 9 continuous days of rest by taking my holidays between two weekends. Following this, I’m ready to sprint again.

This rhythm of Sprint / Rest is something that is currently easy to achieve without children, but it’s something I hope to preserve in the future too.

Do you have a work and rest rhythm that works well for you?

I’ve recently been exploring Derek Sivers’ recommended books list.

What I love about it is how the 250+ books are ordered by, “How strongly I recommend it,” on a scale from 0 to 10.

I have deep respect for Derek, and by extension, his book recommendations. I see this list as a window into his learning journey.

One way to read more signal, and less noise, is to read books recommended by those you have respect for. I’ve found this principle helpful in discovering new works, avoiding duds, and confirming classics.

Do you know any individuals with recommended book lists to share? I’d love to hear about them!

I use the “Sound Night’s Sleep” rule when making decisions in the workplace and in my personal life.

The rule: When making a decision, if the moral consequences of an option prevent you from getting a sound night’s sleep, avoid that option.

It’s important to note that I use this rule mostly for moral based decisions impacting trust, credibility, or personal integrity.

Creative risk taking, such as starting a business or releasing art into the world, although scary and likely to keep us up at night, are not subject to this rule.

Some bold leaps are worth the sleepless nights.