The imp of optimization

Every day the imps of optimization whisper seductively: measure this, track that, finish this, optimize all the things. But the perfectly optimized life exists beyond a horizon that recedes as we approach it—there’s always another metric to track, another improvement to make. Instead of chasing this impossible goal, maybe we can cultivate a counterbalancing skill: the ability to discern between that which requires optimization and that which deserves reverence.

Some activities—work projects, athletic training, learning new skills—genuinely benefit from measurement and improvement. But others—walking, sleeping, reading, meditation, meals with family and friends—perhaps these are things to be savored. And if so, we should hold them sacred. We should allow walks to remain unmeasured wanderings, meals to be consumed without photographic evidence, books to be read mindfully and without hurry.

In a culture obsessed with achievement and self-optimization, this might be the most countercultural act possible: to leave some things unmeasured, untracked, unoptimized, unpublicized.

All the while, the imps will keep whispering.

I’ve had a similar arc with tracking my steps. I used to be extremely diligent, reaching 20,000 steps a day on average back when I was training for ultramarathons.

These days, though, I hardly track my fitness. I have a couple metrics that I watch to make sure I’m on the right track, but I don’t monitor things like my weight, my step count, or my resting heart rate.

And I’ve reached a similar conclusion: some things are just meant to be enjoyed.

Walking around the neighborhood is an extreme luxury when you do it without feeling the pang of guilt associated with being slightly behind your normal pace.

Listening to music is amazing when you are feeling it rather than tracking every song you listen to.

I should pare back more, to be honest. Like, why do I care about scrobbling every single song I’ve ever heard to my last.fm account?