
Today I hit 100 days of my daily anchors. A system I developed for consistency and to attain a better version of myself in some key domains. It was the same first issue of this newsletter I wanted to write at 90 days, which didn’t materialise. It is also something I tried to start weeks before that, when I was going to talk about strolling through town listening to jazz and eating an olive bread roll. I wanted to write about the anchor system in detail. I wanted to talk about how I was burnt out as the manager of a coffee shop and an on-call fire fighter. I wanted to talk about the decisions to leave both of those roles this year. I wanted to give some insightful take aways of what I'd learned.
When I sat down to write it earlier today none of that seemed to flow or make sense somehow. It was frustrating.
The truth is I'd built up too much pressure on it. I was aiming at a perfect first issue that hit every beat, was interesting, and detailed, had everything in it. I started it out at 90 days by writing about a crow I encountered when I was doing a run one foggy morning in January. Exercise is one of my anchors, and I've done that every day consecutively for the last 100 days.
Maybe I couldn't talk about any of it yet because I'm still living it. Maybe I'm still too close to it.
In the end had to just vibe code a writing app to make this first issue simulate Park Run. To try and hijack some of the mechanics that make Park Run exciting to me.

As one of the unexpected emergent results, from starting the simple anchor system, was that my 5k Park Run personal best time improved. I hit a new personal best in January and have since broken my record four times more. So I thought make this first issue like Park Run, Park Run-ise it. So I quickly made the above web app.

There's something about the cadence of Park Run every week, same time, same format, about being in competition with yourself, mainly.
Which maps well to something I've experienced in the past 100 days. The hardest battle is always with yourself, especially when you're making significant changes.
The sort of changes you make only when it's too painful to stay doing things the same way.
I wanted to talk about investing in yourself, about what happens when you have commitments that are non-negotiable and you hit them consistently. I wanted to talk about the paradoxical feeling of having a runner’s high and whilst a heavy tear rolls down your cheek. I wanted to talk about the intention of going from chaos to order, from inconsistency to consistency, from self-sabotage to self-advocacy, from imbalance to balance, from incoherence to coherence. I wanted to talk about showing up for yourself every day. I wanted to talk about how detrimental leaks are to your system, how to identify them, and stop them.
I wanted to talk about completely resetting my nervous system, starting businesses, learning to play guitar, about journaling every day, about doing a review every week, and one at the end of every month.
It wasn't happening.
So I went along with one of the most important things I’ve learned in 100 days of consecutive anchors and decided not to force it. I took a step back, literally, and went outside. Went for a walk.
The biggest thing I've learned is to cultivate awareness and take myself where I'm at. In that way you stop resisting. When you stop resisting things open up.
I've also learned, and continue to learn, that finished is better than perfect, especially when perfect is never finished.
So this isn't the perfect first issue, far from it, but it's a real one. It's honest, it's authentic.
Which might be the last form of value we generate as humans online.

And, here’s the crow that, for some reason, stopped me in my tracks on that January morning