I was twelve years old when I got the strangest birthday present of my life. A navy blue 12-speed bike with yellow handlebar tape. My two favorite colors. I rode it to school the next day, flew around my hometown like I owned the place, came home for birthday dinner with my grandmas, and spent the evening exploring every corner of town on those new wheels.
The following afternoon, my mom told me a man was coming to visit at 4:30. I didn't think much of it until I found myself sitting in our living room with a stranger from the Milwaukee Journal newspaper. That's when the conspiracy revealed itself. The bike wasn't just a gift. It was a work vehicle. I had just been conscripted into the workforce as the newest paper delivery boy for Route A9.
For the next few years, I delivered papers every single day, rain, snow, sleet, or shine. I learned the rhythms of my neighborhood, who had dogs, who had stable lives, and where the nice people lived. But more importantly, I learned something profound from one customer that would stick with me for decades.
On my route was a young banker who lived in a small flat behind a row of businesses. During the week, he was always put together, upbeat, funny, wearing a sharp suit. One time he even chased me two blocks throwing snowballs, just laughing as I pedaled away. But every Saturday morning when I came to collect payment, he'd answer the door in his bathrobe, looking like absolute hell, clearly suffering from what I'd later recognize as a killer hangover.
One Saturday during New Year's weekend, I arrived earlier than usual. He opened the door holding coffee, looking particularly rough, and did something unexpected. He walked outside onto the freezing stoop in just his robe and slippers, bare legs exposed to the Wisconsin winter, and asked me to sit down next to him.
I could smell the combination of alcohol and coffee on his breath. He owed me $1.25, and I was about to earn every penny of it.
He put his hand on my shoulder and said, "Ted, I have some advice for you. A biblical truth." Then he shared it: "Get yourself a job in life where you don't have to work on Saturdays."
He explained that Saturdays were for recovering, sitting around doing absolutely nothing. Saturday was the best day of the week because you had no obligations. But every Saturday, I was his alarm clock. He'd wake up early, put on coffee, and sit there waiting for my doorbell to ring.
"Ted," he said seriously, "I want my Saturdays back."
I offered to collect another day, but he had a better idea. He went inside, came back with his checkbook, and wrote me a check for the entire year. Then he handed me a $20 bill and said, "Here's your tip for last year. I'll give you twice this next year if you don't ring my doorbell any Saturday."
He stood up, looked at me, and said, "Happy New Year, Ted. I'm going back to bed."
That story surfaced in my mind recently as I was thinking about New Year's resolutions and why so many of us fail at them. Here's what the research tells us:
About 40% to 45% of adults make New Year's resolutions, but only 8% to 9% actually achieve them after 365 days. However, and here's the smart thinking, if you do make a formal resolution, you're 10 times more likely to change your behavior compared to those who just vaguely say they'll change something.
The failure happens fast. About 23% of people quit within the first seven days. By the end of January, nearly 43% to 45% have abandoned their goals entirely. I tell myself every year I'll give up swearing. I'm pretty sure I swear by 8:30 on January 1st.
The research points to three main psychological barriers:
Vague ambition happens when people fail to make specific, measurable goals. "I want to be healthier" doesn't cut it. Your brain needs dates, benchmarks, specific actions.
The all or nothing trap catches people who approach change with a perfectionist mindset. One cookie, one missed workout, and suddenly the whole resolution collapses. "I'll start over next year."
Neurobiology versus willpower is the real killer. Willpower is a finite resource. Habit formation occurs in the basal ganglia, while new decisions happen in the prefrontal cortex. When you try to make massive changes all at once, you rely on willpower, which eventually exhausts itself. Your brain defaults back to the old ingrained neural pathways. Your old habits.
My customer on the paper route understood something fundamental. He didn't try to overhaul his entire lifestyle. He didn't resolve to stop drinking or to become a morning person. He made one micro change that gave him back his Saturdays. One check for $1.25 times 52 weeks, and he reclaimed what mattered most to him.
That's the resolution I want you to make this year. Not some massive, overwhelming transformation that'll leave you exhausted by February. Instead, let's take back our Saturdays, then our weekends, then our vacations, and eventually every single day.
Because here's the truth we're all living with: we've become slaves to technology. The dings on our phones, the buzzes on our watches, the constant neurological anxiety of needing to see what's happening in the world right this second. Algorithms monitor our feeds, our searches, all of our movements, feeding us more information designed to shape our thinking and ultimately our spending. It's creating dopamine addictions while we're simultaneously trying to figure out how to get our kids off their devices.
My customer on the paper route probably woke up when he wanted, made a pot of Folgers, ate breakfast, read the paper, and thought about what he wanted to do that day. No emails to catch up on. Just papers waiting on his desk Monday morning. He'd call people on his landline to catch up or make plans, then decide when to go grocery shopping. He probably cranked a Rush record while he cleaned, recovering from Friday night while preparing for Saturday night.
He had freedom. Today, we call that a vacation.
I'm going to give you five practical strategies you can implement immediately. Not next month. Not on January 1st. Today. These aren't grand resolutions. They're micro changes that lead to macro transformation.
When you have a longer weekend or vacation, delete your work email app from your phone entirely. You can easily toggle it off in settings and turn it back on Monday. The benefit? It stops the passive scrolling that keeps your brain in work mode. If there's a true emergency, people have your cell phone number. They'll call.
I tried this for two weekends. By Saturday afternoon, I'd forgotten I'd even done it. I kept looking for that little gray envelope icon, checking for the number that never increased. Sunday came and went. Monday morning, I turned it back on, and you know what was waiting? Fifty emails from LL Bean from buying a sweater nine years ago, and a bunch of stuff I needed to delete anyway.
We all have mental open tabs. Hiring decisions, scheduling issues, budget concerns, people to get back to. This mental clutter prevents us from being emotionally present.
Friday night or Saturday morning, spend 30 to 60 minutes doing a total brain dump. Write down every lingering work thought, every item on your to-do list. Then physically close the notebook and put it in a drawer. This signals to your brain that the information is safe and doesn't need to be rehearsed over and over.
You know what I'm talking about. You sit down to read, get through three, four, five, six, eight pages (notice I skipped seven), and realize you haven't retained anything. You were thinking about those open tabs. Write them down. Close the book. Put it away. Be present.
For the first two hours of your day on weekends, do not check any device. Use this time for something purely physical or sensory. A slow cup of coffee, a walk, reading, sipping tea, watching the sunrise. Just two hours where you're a person first and a responder second.
This regulates your nervous system and reinforces your humanity. Again, if something is truly critical, your phone will ring with a human being on the other end.
True wellbeing for high achievers often isn't found sitting still. When you sit still, your brain engages and gives you anxiety, drawing you back to work. You need to create flow states where you do things without those intrusive thoughts.
Pick one activity that requires your full focus. Cook a complex recipe, hike a new trail, build something, see a movie, go sledding, socialize. I'm a carpenter by training, and every winter break I remodel something in my house. I have to be present, or I wouldn't have any fingers.
This forces what's called monotasking. It's much harder to worry about staffing shortages and budgets when you're focused on not burning your hollandaise sauce or navigating a rocky hiking path.
When you feel your mind drifting toward your to-do list while you're with loved ones, use a physical anchor to return to the room. The 5-4-3-2-1 grounding technique works perfectly. Touch a physical object and count to five, or name three things you see in the room. This moves your mind from wandering and worrying to being present.
A few years ago, I was at a holiday celebration at my in-laws' house on December 25th. I found myself sinking into worries about work, even though I wasn't going back until January 2nd. I was worrying about something seven days away. So I started looking around the room at Christmas ornaments, wondering about their stories. Suddenly I'd closed one mental tab and opened another. I was free.
Last Saturday, I woke up, ignored my phone, went for my run, ate breakfast, read a journal, and started my day. I'll be honest, during the first few minutes of my run, I worried about what I might be missing on my phone. But after a few miles, I was present. The day literally slowed down because I hadn't burned the first hour answering emails, reading news alerts, checking social media, and worrying about things I couldn't control.
I was present when I was running. I felt creativity and strength coming back into my heart, my soul, and my body. I was in a good mood when it finished. An old-fashioned start to a Saturday.
Marcus Aurelius wrote, "You have power over your mind, not outside events. Realize this and you'll find strength." Can you imagine if he'd had a cell phone? If every single day he woke up to a constant barrage of algorithms designed to change his behavior? He never would have found that wisdom.
You have power over your days, not what's on your device. Once you realize this and walk away, you'll reclaim mental real estate and be happier, healthier, and more engaged.
Which of these tactics will you apply this weekend? List your daily habits right now. Review how you start each day, each weekend, each holiday, each vacation. Describe other ways you can resolve to be healthier this year.
Don't wait for January 1st. Don't wait for Monday. Don't wait for the perfect moment.
That banker on my paper route paid $1.25 a week to reclaim his Saturdays. What's your version of that check? What's the one micro change that will give you back what matters most?
Make the choice. Write the check. Take back your Saturdays.
Because micro leads to macro, and the storms we face every day become easier to charge into when we're mentally present, emotionally available, and physically grounded in our own lives.
The question isn't whether you can do this. The question is whether you will.
And if you want to, you will.