Week 2 — Building Structure in the Cold: Early Mornings, Hard Work, and Learning Real Skills
A winter routine of early mornings, skill-building, physical training, and quiet reflection — and what it’s teaching me about direction, values, and momentum.
Body
Over the last while, my days have started to take on a clearer shape.
I aim to wake at 6:30 each morning. I haven’t been flawless — one morning I slept through the alarm, another it went off and I shut it down — but I’m building the habit. The point isn’t perfection. It’s consistency over time.
My mornings begin the same way: clearing the yard, feeding the horses, and stepping outside into the cold. There’s a hill behind the house. After finishing my work, I climb it and wait for the sun. First it breaks over the Alps, then it rises slowly, lifting above the mountains as mist settles in the valley below. It’s quiet. Grounding. A reminder that not everything needs to be rushed.
When I come back down, I usually write a short note on Substack or spend time learning a skill I can use to earn money online. This has been an area of friction for me.
I’ve been jumping between ideas — print on demand, AI tools, email reactivation — too many to count at times. That scattered feeling became a signal in itself.
Print on demand is something I’ve done before. It’s familiar, but it doesn’t build transferable skills. It’s mostly design, upload, repeat. Email reactivation, on the other hand, forces me to learn outreach, persuasion, and sales. It requires talking to real businesses and creating value where it already exists.
The model is simple: many small businesses have email lists they’ve built over years but rarely use. By running a short reactivation campaign, you can generate revenue from an otherwise dormant asset and take a percentage of the results. No upfront cost for the business. A win-win in theory.
I’ve started reaching out to gyms. No success yet. That’s fine. It just means refining the approach — increasing volume, testing calls or WhatsApp instead of email, learning through repetition.
Outside of work, I’ve been learning archery.
Because it’s winter and the ground is frozen, horseback riding isn’t an option, so I joined group archery sessions instead. I’m learning the Mediterranean draw — three fingers on the string, instinctive shooting, no sights. It’s humbling. Everything is new: how to hold the bow, how to draw, how to keep the line clean. But improvement is visible, and that’s deeply satisfying.
The groups are varied — parents with children, older women, a few younger people. Not many in their early twenties, but everyone is there for the same reason: to learn something unfamiliar and be bad at it for a while.
Physically, I’ve also started taking responsibility for an issue I ignored for years — anterior pelvic tilt and chronic back pain. Instead of pushing through it, I’ve committed to daily rehab: stretching tight hip flexors, strengthening glutes and core, rebuilding balance and alignment. Slowly, I’m already feeling the benefits.
Strength training has stayed simple. Incline press-ups, pistol squats, walking lunges, burpees, skipping rope. All bodyweight. Slow reps. Time under tension. It’s freezing most days — too cold to run comfortably — so I work with the conditions instead of fighting them.
Evenings are quieter. I read the Bible, play chess, and finish Jane Eyre. The language forces attention. I can’t skim. I have to slow down. I’ve moved from the Gospel of Mark into Luke. In chess, I’ve been studying Capablanca’s philosophy: simplicity, early development, central control, and attack as a form of defense. I’m no world champion, but clarity improves everything.
I’ve also been learning more about testosterone, sleep, and recovery. The pattern is obvious.
When I consistently do hard things — early mornings, physical effort, learning uncomfortable skills — everything improves. Mood, focus, confidence, direction.
I don’t have everything figured out. But structure creates momentum. Momentum creates clarity. And clarity doesn’t come from waiting — it comes from action taken with intent.
For now, that’s enough.
One day at a time. One hard choice at a time.