When I was a young mother, one of my heroes was my cousin’s wife, Stephanie. She captained a counseling practice, a happy marriage, and three young, energetic children. Stephanie obtained her master’s degree in social work with exacting time-management precision and discipline. Though she lived on the east coast, and I did not see or talk to her often, I gleaned that she accomplished goals by having a highly structured and ordered life.
Stephanie was remarkably efficient. The laundry room in her home was stationed off the kitchen, and when I visited, she could switch wet clothes from the washer to the dryer without a pause in our conversation. She fashioned a shopping list in the exact order of the grocery store footprint, ensuring that she never backtracked to grab a loaf of bread. Her most inspired brainchild was putting just-bathed offspring to bed in clean sweat pant outfits. In the morning, sleepy children could stumble to breakfast and off to school without the obstacle of dressing, leaving time for brushing teeth, grabbing back packs, and good-bye kisses.
Over time, I became infatuated with efficiency, fueled by both necessity and temperament. I remember dictating legal research memos while driving home from a summer law firm internship. At one point, I perfected the art of applying make-up while stopped at traffic signals; working full-time, getting kids off to school, and, for several years, caring for my mother in assisted living seemed to necessitate that. Today, like many people, I have perfected the art of working during lunch, brushing off both germy keyboard concerns and work clothes crumbs.
I epitomize exercise economy. Running and vigorous walking are high-return aerobic exercises that can be done anywhere at any time. Walking is simultaneously relaxing and energizing. I can multi-task while running by listening to books, podcasts, or music. But my most productive use of time while exercising is allowing my thoughts to roam freely, either stepping hesitantly along the perimeter of my consciousness or darting boldly through it.
I have run to book club gatherings and home from non-profit board meetings. When my children played high school sports, I sometimes ran to baseball fields or loops around the ballpark. I would drop little soccer players at the field, and furtively change my clothes in the car for a little pre-game workout. Today I walk terminals in airports and parking lots at distant hotels. My running shoes are stalwart, resolute, and at the ready, waiting patiently for me to pull them from darkened hall closets onto my feet.
With the grace of maturity, and an emerging belief that I can set boundaries on my commitments, I increasingly give myself the gift of time and space. I pause and stretch after running without hearing the urgent pull of my law practice. I revel in the occasional luxury of a hot bath even if housecleaning calls. Recently, I ignored the incoming email of an important client while I finished a personal text message.
And who knows, if I can talk my husband into pulling weeds while I nap, I can hone my multi-tasking skills to perfection.