Locking in and staying in
Rethinking The Great Lock-In as a softer kind of discipline
“I’m not trying to bury the life I have; I’m trying to build something bigger with the foundation I’ve already set.”
Every few months, the internet spits out a new challenge, and honestly, I’m here for every one of them: The 12 Week Year, 75 Hard, Winter arcs, and now… the Great Lock-In.
But as much as I’m a sucker for a good productivity trend, they also bring with them a very anxious energy. It always starts with a massive rush of pure excitement, but ends up being fueled by unsustainable motivation, most of which doesn’t move me very much.
Phrases like “your new life is gonna cost you your old one” give me the ick. Not because it’s not valid, but because it frames growth as a form of erasure rather than an act of expansion. It pits your future against your past, as if they need to be at odds with each other. I’m not trying to bury the life I have; I’m trying to build something bigger with the foundation I’ve already set.
But I do feel that, to some degree, I need to lock in. Maybe not to chastise myself into being a “better me,” but to trim the fat and get down to the meat that really matters. I want to do so in a way that, come January 1st, I’m not drained and depleted, beating myself up for not hitting yet another milestone.
This year, despite my word being “momentum,” I’ve realized that I’ve benefited most from slower, more gradual climbs. That one foot in front of the other, next best step mentality that eases into the growing pains.
Slow work is still work, after all.
And I really like this new pragmatic mindset. It’s led me to shift the question behind my lock-in from “what parts of me need to die” to “what do I need to create room for so I can live?” It’s helped me ask myself what’s really worth locking in on before I fully commit.
The three key things I’m now asking myself are:
What level of discomfort can I willingly tolerate? Yes, locking in comes with growing pains, but everything that needs to happen doesn’t have to happen at its highest intensity. Sometimes I can withstand a spicy 10. Other times, I’m a mild five at best. But each time, I go with — not against — my tolerance threshold, because at both levels, the work is still getting done.
If it doesn’t happen in my timeframe, will I agree to keep showing up? Most things in my life haven’t happened in the time box I placed them in, and typically, I’d turn around and walk away from them. But honestly, I’d hate for my breakthrough to come on day 377 and I’m not around to welcome it. I’m learning to treat my timeframe like a mile marker, not a finish line.
Do I have the capacity to maintain this? The worst thing I can do with this lock-in isn’t starting something that can’t be finished; it’s starting something that can’t be maintained. I’ve made this mistake quite a few times, being eager and ready for the process, but unable to manage the upkeep. So now my momentum must be met with maintenance. If not, what exactly was the point?
After these questions, a lot of things hit the cutting room floor. Goals that sound good in theory and look good on a vision board, but make no sense for me right now.
Good.
Let them fall away.
Instead, I’m focusing on bringing to life the visions that are truly ready to be here and leaving the rest behind. It might not be as sexy as a new planner or well-curated spreadsheet, but locking in is more than just finishing strong and leaving our old selves in the past. It’s using who we are as a firm foundation to start building up towards something greater.
If you’re also all in on this final push of the year, I want to hear how you’re not just locking in, but staying in.
I’m looking forward to seeing how it all expands.
