An acquaintance told me a few days ago that he’s still sticking to his New Year’s fitness plan. It’s August. Most people quit by week two, and he’s genuinely proud of that streak, and he should be.
Here’s my gripe, though. His health markers haven’t budged in eight months, on his own admission. Meanwhile his life has completely changed underneath him.
A close family member fell seriously ill, and he’s been showing up for that family every single day since. He’s not exaggerating his commitment. He’s just still running the exact plan he built back in January, in a life that doesn’t remotely resemble the one he built it for.
Sticking with it felt like the safe move, and I get why. He paid $225 for a professional plan, and he’s still executing it faithfully. Admitting the plan no longer fits means sitting with real ambiguity — figuring out what actually works now, with everything different, instead of just checking the same boxes he’s checked for eight straight months. It’s easier to tell yourself “at least I tried” than to admit the thing you’re trying isn’t the right thing anymore.
That’s cost him seven months of decisions, dozens of them daily, made against a plan built for a life he isn’t living. He kept telling himself this is just what people in a crisis do — you stick it out, no matter what, and keep trying. Except sticking it out and adapting aren’t the same instinct, and confusing them cost him real ground.
I saw a version of the same rigidity yesterday, with a real estate agent showing us a property. My friend and I asked a handful of questions, and nine times out of ten, we got some variation of “err, I’m not too sure about this, sir.” He could only answer whatever someone had scripted for him in advance — worse than asking ChatGPT, honestly, and that’s saying something.
It irritated the hell out of me in the moment. Looking back, it’s the exact same pattern — an inability to think past whatever’s already been handed to you, without even realizing you’re doing it.
Most of us assume divergent thinking belongs to some rare category of genius. It doesn’t. It’s just the willingness to ask one more question before locking in an answer — whether that’s a fitness plan, a property listing, or anything else you’ve stopped actually reconsidering.
Next time you catch yourself defending a plan a little too hard, it’s worth asking: is this what I know, or is there more?