Don't Live for Gatorade
By Gentry Patterson
In Alabama, we have a joke about the seasons. There are four: almost summer, summer, still summer, and football season.
This was a summer day. A right-smack-dab-in-the-middle-of-summer day. I’m talking about the kind of summer day that imbues Alabamians the state over with the sort of self-confidence that’s usually reserved for people who have survived the fury of the gods. As I drove to my construction job at six o’clock that morning, the heat was already rising off of the road in caloric waves, distorting the horizon to such an extent that, had you been riding shotgun, I would have forgiven you for thinking we were underwater. It didn’t take a Nostradamus to understand what we were in for. It was about to get HOT.
I pulled up to my workplace: a drill rig mounted on a barge; geared up to take some soil samples from the bottom of a local lake. I was mentally prepared to put in my day's work, collect my check, and get the hell back to air conditioning. Unfortunately, you can’t drink mental preparation. I wasn’t 45 minutes into the workday before I realized in a rush of panic that I’d left my water bottle at home...
If I could’ve kicked my 6 am self, I’d have kicked him clear to Texas. It was not the kind of day to forget your water bottle. That god-forsaken barge absorbed the brutal midday sun like a white pair of pants absorbs a splash of red wine. By 10 am, the heat was so great on the deck that the bottom of my boots began to melt and stick like gum if I stood still for too long. My mouth was drier than a saltine cracker in the Atacama. I began to daydream about water.
By noon, I was contemplating hurling myself into the lake and swimming away, work be damned. Hell, I thought to myself, I might even swallow a great quaff of that lakewater on the way in. Weighing my options, I looked around. The barge and crew offered nothing; no shade, no water, and certainly no sympathy. Just on the horizon, a gas station sat on the shore. In a rush, I imagined wall-to-wall coolers filled with ice-cold drinks, and it made me dizzy. I began counting time in minutes.
Somewhere between seven and eight billion minutes later, I completed the shift. Dazed, confused, and burnt to a crisp, I stumbled to my car and zipped straight to the gas station, giddy with anticipation. I whipped into the first parking spot, swung open the door, and marched straight to the biggest drink they sold, a ridiculous bottle of purple Gatorade the size of a cantaloupe. The teller said something to me but even if I had wanted to chat my mouth and lips were baked beyond function. I slapped a hard-won wad of dollar bills on the counter and had half the bottle down my throat before the man handed me my change.
The first taste of that cold, refreshing Gatorade was indescribable. As it swirled around my cheeks and down my throat I felt the kind of ecstasy that poets dream about. After nine excruciating hours of anticipation under the oppressive power of the Alabama sun, I could finally quench my thirst. I sat in my car, feeling the AC blast over me, savoring every last drop.
Satisfied, I buckled up and drove home.
It’s been almost a decade since, and I still vaguely remember the taste of that purple Gatorade, a tad sweet, wonderfully cold. It was the absolute peak of satisfaction. At that moment, you could not have found a happier camper. Yet, however satisfying it was, I’m not about to go work nine hours on a hot barge to experience it again. That’s probably obvious.
Who in their right mind would spend nine hours being miserable for a few gulps of satisfying Gatorade? Well, I think you’d be surprised.
The fact of the matter is that, without realizing it, lots of folks spend huge amounts of time pursuing “Gatorade moments.” I’ve done it myself so many times I’ve lost count. We spend weeks, months, and even years being miserable, waiting with anticipation, just trying to finally get something. Yet, when it finally arrives, all we get is a temporary feeling of relief.
In my final semester of college, I dreamed daily about walking across that stage with my diploma in hand. I thought: When I get that diploma, I will finally be happy. I would literally say this out loud to myself. The day I graduated, I actually was incredibly happy. The relief was indescribable. Yet, a couple of months later, my day-to-day levels of happiness had returned to a baseline level hardly different from what I had felt before. Huh???
In retrospect, I don’t know what I thought was going to happen. I guess I imagined life without a degree was maybe a 6/10 on the happiness scale, and life with a degree would magically and permanently become a 9/10 on the happiness scale. Silly, I know. As it turns out, getting the degree was just another Gatorade moment.
Psychologists call this impact bias. We tend to think things that may happen in the future will affect us way more than they actually turn out to. In reality, getting that degree, winning that promotion, whatever it is, will more than likely only provide you with a temporary feeling of satisfaction. Sort of like the feeling of taking a backpack off after climbing a mountain.
Psychology professor Richard Davidson describes this feeling as “post-goal attainment positive effect.” It’s a fleeting experience. Your brain produces dopamine and you feel content, but only momentarily. As the dopamine rush from attaining your goal wears off, you find yourself returning to a normal state of happiness, a state where things feel generally just okay.
So you pick a new goal and restart the process.
This cycle of seeking happiness by pursuing bigger and bigger life changes is known as the “hedonic treadmill.” Essentially, although your nerve cells respond powerfully to new feelings and experiences, they habituate over time, producing less and less dopamine as the novelty of an experience wears off. You get the big promotion, you now have money to spare, and now you eat out at your favorite restaurant three times a week. For the first month or two, it’s amazing, but eventually, you learn to expect that food. Suddenly, life is kind of back to normal.
A few months after graduating from college, I got an amazing job. My coworkers were brilliant, the work was fascinating, and I knew this was going to be the big change that would make me happy. Getting that diploma may have turned out to be a Gatorade moment, but this job? No way.
Imagine my surprise when three months in, I found myself returning to a day-to-day experience of feeling “just fine.” I was frustrated. Uncomfortable questions started popping up in my head. Did I choose the wrong job? Would I be happier if I had a different car or apartment? Was I the problem? What the heck was going on? I couldn’t figure out what I was doing wrong. I thought the problem was me.
Thankfully, I finally came to my senses. It happened all at once, in the form of a huge epiphany. After weeks of pondering my life, reading self-help blogs, consuming psychology videos on YouTube, and generally feeling sorry for myself, it finally clicked.
The problem wasn’t me. The problem was my approach.
I’d spent so much time focusing on major events in the future, like getting a degree or a prestigious job, that I’d neglected the experience of my day-to-day life. I’d neglected the actual experience of living! Even typing it now, it’s a concept so obvious that I can’t believe it took me two decades to grasp. Yet a simple look around shows me that I’m not alone. Our culture encourages and rewards achievement. It’s natural to find yourself thinking in those terms. However, that’s not the best route to happiness.
Armed with a new perspective, I started to think about my daily routine. Instead of wistfully thinking about what major achievements would make me happy, I asked myself, What would make me happy on a regular ol’ Thursday?
Here are a few of those things:
A good night’s sleep
Some kind of exercise
Doing things I’m good at
Doing nice things for other people
Spending time with people I like
Feeling gratitude for the things I have
Having a sense of “progress” in my life
These seemed like a good place to start. I began by implementing a bedtime. Within a week the benefits of getting more sleep were obvious. Seriously, if you aren’t getting enough sleep, I can’t emphasize it enough, this is the easiest way to improve your life. Set an alarm on your phone for bedtime, and stick with it. It will make you happier.
I also started making an effort to be more grateful for the things I have. Before bed, I make a list of three or four things I’m grateful for from the day. It’s honestly quite nice. Thinking about how lucky I am in some regards has a quieting effect on my mind. I feel more at peace. This is another thing I’d recommend.
Pleased with the results of the experiment thus far, I started thinking about my long-term goals again. This is when I was hit with a second epiphany:
I realized that I could use my long-term goals as a tool to structure my day-to-day life.
Achieving the goals isn’t the important thing. It’s what you wind up doing day to day in pursuit of those goals that actually matters.
Apparently, this has been known for quite some time. As the Bard himself put it, “Things won are done; joy’s soul lies in the doing.” Somehow the significance of these words was lost on me at the first read-through.
So, I set some new goals. I signed up for a 50-mile foot race with my friend Jose. It’s coming up soon.
Do I think my life will change if we successfully finish the race? Absolutely not.
Has this goal changed my life? Absolutely.
Thanks to this crazy goal hanging over my head, I’ve been regularly going for runs, which has translated to feeling more healthy and happy with my life. I’ve been able to enjoy a feeling of progress as I’ve found myself able to run further and further. As a bonus, Jose and I now have a reason to hang out multiple times per week. It’s been awesome.
When you consider your goals in terms of how they will affect your daily life, it may surprise you what factors grow or shrink in importance. In the case of my cool job after college, I had what felt like some prestige and cool projects, but almost no interactions with others on a day-to-day basis. As an extreme extrovert, I eventually crashed and burned.
Life is short. There are only so many goals you can pursue, and there are only so many days you can live. Adopt goals that require you to do things that make you happy, and you’ll be happier in return.
Don’t waste your life stuck on hot barge. It’s not worth the Gatorade.
Gentry Patterson is an American writer and cartographer living in Birmingham, Alabama. He loves to be outside and enjoys spending time with a good book.
