Slow Down to Go Faster

Do you ever feel like the only way to get where you're going is to push harder?

More hours. More discipline. More willpower. If you're falling behind, the answer must be to do more — not less. And so you put your head down and grind. You skip the walk with your colleagues. You eat lunch at your desk. You tell yourself you'll rest when it's done.

I've been there. More times than I'd like to admit.

There was a season in my career when 12-hour days had become my normal. My colleagues would step outside for a walk in the middle of the day. I watched them go, but I never joined. I simply didn't have the bandwidth. There was too much to do, and taking a break felt like a luxury I hadn't earned yet.

Then one afternoon, I found myself with a 30-minute gap before several more hours of work. Something made me decide to take that walk.

I came back with a new perspective on the problem I'd been wrestling with for days. What I thought would take hours took 30 minutes. I went home early for the first time in a long while.

That walk didn't slow me down. It was the reason I finished.

What We Get Wrong About Discipline

Here's the story most high achievers tell themselves: If I just push through, I'll get there faster.

The subtext sounds something like: I should be able to handle this. I should have this done by now. Slowing down is falling behind.

These thoughts feel like discipline. They feel like drive. But I want you to consider something — what if they're actually the thing slowing you down?

Think of it this way. Imagine you're running a marathon. You've trained, you're ready, and you're determined to finish strong. Now imagine strapping a heavy pack to your back before the starting gun fires. The pack is filled with every "I should" you carry: I should push through. I should never need a break. I should be further along by now.

You still might finish. But it will take longer. It will hurt more. And somewhere around mile 18, you might wonder why you ever thought this was supposed to feel good.

The weight isn't discipline. The weight is the story you're telling yourself about what discipline requires.

What Runners Know That We've Forgotten

I'm a runner. A slow one — I'll fully own that. But I've learned something from running that I now bring into every area of my work and my coaching.

Jeff Galloway, US Olympian and running coach, has spent 50 years studying what actually helps runners finish marathons faster. His finding might surprise you: strategic walk breaks don't slow you down. They help you go faster.

In surveys of runners who shifted from non-stop running to a deliberate run-walk-run approach, the average improvement was over 13 minutes in a marathon. Runners who took intentional breaks outpaced runners who pushed through — because their bodies recovered more efficiently, their form held up longer, and they didn't hit the wall as hard in the final miles.

Over 98% of Galloway's participants finish their marathons. Not because they pushed harder. Because they learned when to ease up.

The same principle lives in your work, your leadership, and your goals.

Running With a Lighter Pack

When you give yourself permission to slow down — strategically, intentionally — three things happen.

You're more likely to finish.

Burnout doesn't announce itself. It builds quietly under the surface of all those 12-hour days, all those skipped lunches, all those "I'll rest when it's done" promises. The leaders I work with who burn out aren't lazy. They're the ones who believed they had to carry everything, all the time, without stopping. Releasing even a little of that weight — one walk, one slower morning, one week without working late — isn't weakness. It's what makes the long game possible.

You can actually move faster.

This is the part that feels counterintuitive until you experience it yourself. When you step away from a problem, your brain doesn't stop working. It shifts into a different mode — one that's better at pattern recognition, creative connection, and seeing what you couldn't see when you were deep in the weeds. My 30-minute walk didn't cost me time. It gave me hours back. This isn't a productivity hack. It's how we're wired.

You'll actually enjoy the journey.

This one matters more than we let ourselves admit. When every day is a grind you're trying to get through, you stop noticing the moments worth savoring. You stop feeling proud of how far you've come. The finish line becomes the only thing that counts, and you arrive there exhausted, already scanning for the next thing to accomplish. A little more lightness along the way doesn't diminish what you're building. It makes it worth building.

A Few Questions Worth Sitting With

I want to leave you with something to take into your day — not a to-do list, but a moment of honest reflection.

What weight are you carrying right now?

Get specific. What are the "I should" thoughts that show up most often? I should be further along. I should be able to handle more. I should already know how to do this. Write them down if you can. There's something clarifying about seeing them outside of your own head.

What would it look like to set one of them down?

Not forever. Not abandoning your standards or your ambition. Just for today — or even for an afternoon. What would you do differently if you gave yourself a little more grace? What might you notice? What might become easier?

What is your version of the walk?

It doesn't have to be a literal walk (though it might be). It's whatever gives your mind the kind of space where better answers tend to appear. For some people it's a drive with music. For others it's a slow morning before the emails start. For others still it's a conversation with someone who helps them think clearly.

Whatever it is — you haven't earned it yet is never the right reason to skip it.

You don't have to carry all of it to prove you're serious about where you're going. Real strength isn't about how much weight you can carry. It's about being wise enough to put some of it down.