The no-rush policy

how doing less gives me more

My heart pounds as our feet slap the cobblestones. Weaving in and out of passerbys, my chest screams to stop. 

If I saw us, I’d wonder what this couple could possibly be running from. The reality is that there’s something we’re running to.

We were leisurely walking home from our jog to the beach when I looked at the clock. In fifteen minutes, we needed to get home, eat, shower, and be at church. There was no way we could possibly do it. 

I started walking faster and faster. He picked up the pace with me until we were nearly jogging. He looked at me quizzically. I told him we needed to get home. 

“By when?” he asked. 

“Twenty minutes ago,” I responded. 

We started running. We didn’t stop. He grabbed a sandwich at Subway, which he ate nearly in the shower. I put my shoes on in the elevator and we jog/walk/trotted to church. When we got there, we stood in the pews, late, dripping sweat. 

He leaned over to me in a break between songs.

“We are never rushing like that again,” he whispered. I nodded. I had no idea it would be true.

With that, the no-rush policy was born. 

What does the no-rush policy look like in practice? Originally, I thought it would mean that I’d leave myself more time between events.

In reality, it means I do less things. If it’s going to require us being in a hurry to get there, we don’t do it. 

As a result, I am more realistic and honest with my friends about what I can and cannot do. With a limited capacity, I have learned how to detect what things feel like obligations. 

If I feel obliged to do something, I dig in deeper to understand why. I challenge myself to choose the things that feel like liberation instead of obligation. 

The no-rush policy is impossibly simple and simply impossible to have imagined one year ago. 

When I lived in New York, being in a rush was my competitive advantage. I rushed better than anyone.

I could put make-up on in an Uber while hotspotting on my work computer, rolling the window down to dry my hair because I showered at my workout class.

If the car wasn’t moving fast enough, I wasn’t afraid to jump out of the car and physically run to where I needed to go.

I have run down the streets of New York City in high heels, suits, glittery pants, swimsuits, really any sort of apparel that is requisite for an event I could be late in attending.

One time, I was late for yoga and strapped my yoga mat into a Citibike. I wove in and out of cars, nearly clipping my handlebars. As I made my way on the final stretch of the route, a car tailed me so closely they skimmed my back wheel. 

A UPS truck ahead of me slowed, and the car behind me screeched to a stop inches behind me. My heart raced. I was late and this car wouldn’t give me space. They honked at me to go around the UPS truck. Adrenaline coursed through my veins. I couldn’t go anywhere.

Finally, I pulled over to put the Citibike away. As the car passed, the driver rolled down their window. 

“Hey, fuck you!” the driver shouted.

“No, fuck you!” 

The voice surprised me. It came from a guy behind me, putting his Citibike away. Not to be one-upped, I flipped the driver the bird. 

“Yeah, fuck you!” I shouted furiously, churning with adrenaline. 

Pulling my yoga mat off the bike, I jogged into the studio. Before ducking into the door, I looked about myself quickly, praying that no one in my class had witnessed this most anti-yoga moment possible.

The irony was not missed. Adding more yoga and more self-care and more routines was not going to help me. I needed to do less. My calendar was full, but I was empty. 

Now, the no-rush policy applies to everything. There’s the day-to-day application, where I no longer schedule things back-to-back, or worse, on top of each other, like I used to. 

But there’s also a greater impact. The opposite of the no-rush policy is also true. 

I don’t feel the need to slow down to follow arbitrary societal timelines.

There is conventional wisdom about optimal lengths of time you should spend in a relationship, a job, a city, and more. I remember finding comfort in them, because they gave me the sense that I was “on track.”

What I know now is that there is no perfect rule of thumb that fits everyone. The ideal timing is the one that makes sense for your life and your priorities. No one can determine that but you. 

The no-rush policy challenged me to think about what I was doing and why. When I do choose to do something, I do it with full awareness. As a result, I show up with greater commitment, clarity, and consciousness. 

In reality, it’s actually less about rushing or speeding up. The real unlock for me has been to choose the things I want to do, when I want to do them. I have taken back my time by owning my timing.  

Maybe my life isn’t as filled, but I am more fulfilled. 

Somehow, doing less has given me so much more.