You might have read the story about how I started running in my first book. If you have, please excuse me for telling it again shortly.

When I started with Weigh-Less in 2017, I weighed 165 kg. I didn’t start exercising at the same time. I thought that would be too much to tackle all at once. I was already trying to change the way I ate, and besides, at 165 kg, the thought of moving my body for exercise was almost incomprehensible.

It was only towards the end of that first year that I started purposely going for walks, with the goal of getting an exercise session in.

Initially, my only goal was to earn Discovery Vitality points. It sounds ridiculous now, but it worked. I had to exercise for long enough and get my heart rate high enough to earn those points. So that’s what I did. I walked to meet those criteria. And I kept walking.

Eventually, after nearly a year, I reached a point where walking simply wasn’t enough anymore. I couldn’t get my heart rate high enough to earn the points.

So I started running. At first, I ran the downhills. Then, when that wasn’t enough anymore, I started tackling the uphills. In the beginning, I couldn’t run an entire hill. I’d run a section, walk a bit, run another section. Eventually the sections got longer. And then one day, I could run the whole thing.

Looking back, I think there was something very clever about that silly little goal of earning Vitality points.

It was just difficult enough to make me move, but not so difficult that I couldn’t succeed.

But what made me think about this again?

A few months ago, Discovery introduced their Discovery Sleep programme. It’s based on a similar idea to their exercise programme: your sleep is recorded, you receive a score each morning, and you have a goal to work towards. Reach your goal, and you can choose a reward.

In theory, I should love it. In reality, it has been the bane of my existence. Especially this past week and a bit, while I’ve been sick.

The problem is that so much of what determines my score feels completely outside my control:
When I eventually fall asleep.
How much REM sleep I get.
How much deep sleep I get.

And then, every week, the goal gets pushed a little higher. Even when I didn’t reach the previous week’s goal.

The worst is, however, on the odd occasion when I can sleep in — a rest day, perhaps, or a public holiday — I might sleep for 8½ hours and still have my sleep duration labelled Needs improvement. It must be between 7 and 8 hours.

At this point, I’ve more or less given up on the programme. But although this newsletter isn’t meant to be a complaint about the programme, and my husband has already told me to let it be and ignore the simple scores and goal, it has made me think.

Because the same concept that can be incredibly encouraging can become incredibly discouraging when the goal isn’t realistic, and when the scoring feels uncontrollable.

My running journey worked because that silly little goal met me exactly where I was: heavy, tired, but completely capable of walking down a hill. And it continues meeting me throughout many years now.

The sleep programme fails, at least for me, because it expects a flawless performance from my body, whose internal workings I cannot always control, every single night. It doesn’t care if I’m a naturally restless sleeper, or if my body is just doing its best to fight off a nasty virus. No kudos given for at least trying to be in bed on time every night, and sleeping as best I can.

Growth takes some effort, sure, but it shouldn’t make you feel hopeless.

So, if you’re currently beating yourself up over a goal that demands total perfection, give yourself a break. Sometimes, the absolute best thing you can do for your long-term success is to ditch the rigid targets and pick a goal that’s actually willing to meet you where you’re at.