Present me v. Future me: What I learned from the Willpower Instinct

Posted on December 11, 2012 by Rob Pollak

If you’ve been following my blog, you might me remember my struggles with ice cream, or the time I quit training for the NYC Marathon, or the many months when I didn’t post at all [null link]. Maybe you’re noticing a pattern here. I certainly did: I have no willpower.

So I set out to remedy that by reading Kelly McGonigal‘s book The Willpower Instinct: How Self-Control Works, Why it Matters, and What You Can Do To Get More of It.

Okay, you caught me. I’m lying a little bit. I didn’t actually read it. Not the whole thing anyway. But! I did listen to the Audiobook while commuting. Most of it at least. And sometimes I would think about how I could do the exercises to try and get better about things. But then I would remember my defensive driving training and return my eyes to the road, focusing on any immediate emergencies 2 seconds ahead or scanning for potential danger up to 12 seconds ahead.

At the very least, just by listening to the book, I now can’t help but think about some of the broader concepts that McGonigal discusses. (Note – if you’re going to listen to the audio book, you’re in for a rude awakening if you expect the narration to be in the author’s voice. And judging by her picture, she has a hot voice. The narrator is a monotone man who probably sent a dozen other people to defensive driving class through no fault of their own.)

One concept I learned about was the struggle between my current self and my future self. From what I gathered, my current self is lazy, selfish, shortsighted, irrational, conniving, lazy, calculating, and optimistic. While my future self is an amazing person, but I never get to meet him. Here’s an example of a conversation I have with my current self all the time:

Rob1 (current self): Man, I haven’t been to the gym in a week. I am harnessing my pants together with an airplane seatbelt extender. I have ice cream drippings solidifying in the folds of my chin. Maybe I should go to the gym today.

Rob2 (also current self): Good idea. But didn’t you want to watch the new episode of Two Broke Girls?

Rob1: No, not really. I should go to the gym.

Rob2: Dude. Two Broke Girls!

Rob1: Hm, that does sound good.

Rob2: We can just go to the gym tomorrow.

Rob1: True.

Rob2: And let’s get some pizza and more ice cream because we’re going to start eating healthy tomorrow too.

Rob1: Oh yeah, I did say I was going to do that when I was eating lunch at Arby’s.

Rob2: Totally. We’re going to be awesome tomorrow.

Rob3 (Future Rob): Whoa. I really committed to a lot tomorrow.

Rob1&2: Yeah, but you’re so amazing. We love you.

I’m not sure if reading that book will change the way I think about these conversations, but it’s at least made me aware that I totally justify things by thinking I’ll get better about them tomorrow. And not only that, but McGonigal uses things like sciences and experiments to back up her findings. I’m a democrat, so I really dig that kind of hogwash.

I’m not saying that this book has all the answers, but if you’ve been keeping track, you have probably noticed the dramatic increase in volume to this blog (and the distracting facebook clog I have caused on your timeline). So you’re welcome and I’m sorry.

For the visual learners – this is present me:

And this is future me:

Now, about that ice cream….

A drawing of my pal from the gym

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As a follow up to my post, here’s a picture of the guy from the locker room.

An Open Letter to the Guy in the Locker Room at the Gym

Posted on December 7, 2012 by Rob Pollak

Dear guy in the locker room at the gym,

Hi. You probably don’t remember me, but I was the only other guy in the locker room when you went to the gym today. If you don’t remember that, let me give you a few details that might help.

This is just an estimate, but I think the gym had about 1200 lockers. They were divided into three rows of lockers, with a bench in the middle and lockers on both sides of the bench. As far as locker rooms go, there was nothing that was extraordinary or unusual about this particular arrangement. The locker room was well lit and quiet. It was the early afternoon when I was finishing my workout.

The reason I am writing to you is that I found your locker room etiquette to be, how should I put this, annoying.

Your greatest error was one of locker selection. As I mentioned above, the room had approximately 1200 lockers in it. Of those, the only occupied locker was the one that was occupied by me. I was sitting in front of it. It had the number 340 on the door. The door to the locker 340 was open. I was staring into it. My clothing was hanging on a hanger in that locker. I had a towel around my waist. I had clearly just returned from the shower and was about to prepare myself for departure from the gym. All of the other lockers in the gym were closed and pretty clearly unoccupied.

At that point, you had an option of choosing one of those 1199 unoccupied lockers as your own. While there is no law about this, the generally understood law of being a human being is that you should begin your quest for an open locker at the point furthest away from where I sit in various states of undress and continue to work towards me until you find a locker that is available.

For some inexplicable reason, you decided to start with locker number 342, which as I noted, was unoccupied. Finding this locker unoccupied, you chose it as your own. You sat down next to me and removed your shirt. Then stood up and removed your pants. Then you turned towards me and removed your saggy underpants. Underpants is the only appropriate word to describe those monstrosities you chose. In an effort to avoid eye to penis contact, I looked over to the mirror to confirm that I was not invisible. I wasn’t.

Although this too close for comfort arrangement was not ideal, I did not become enraged until you started coughing. Loudly. Uncontrollably. In my direction. That pushed me over the edge. I hate you. I hate your face. I hate your phlegmy cough. I hate your fruit of the loom underpants. I hate your unclipped toe nails. I hate your poor locker room decision making. I hate that you ruined the joy I take in cooling off with a cool eucalyptus towel. I hope you forgot to clip the emergency stop thingy onto your shirt and fell off the treadmill, you dick.

Best regards,

Rob

My triumphant return to yoga class

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I made my triumphant return to yoga class after falling last week. Here’s a drawing of the layout of the room. The purple rectangles represent every space that was taken by a mat. The stick figure doing a handstand represents me. The x marks the spot where I fell last week. Curiously, no one took that spot. Pretty sure it was just a coincidence.

I fell in yoga

Video

FYI – I fell in yoga class tonight. Pretty much landed in a sweaty heap on top of the woman who was unfortunate enough to have the mat next to me. Anne took a video reenactment of the move that led to the incident.