Reducing to Move Forward
You’ve set the goal.
Maybe it’s getting in shape, building a business, or growing a newsletter.
The goal is clear. The timeline is long.
And somewhere between week two and week seven, you stop.
Not because you don’t want it.
But because the gap between effort and reward feels endless.
I used to think this was a character flaw.
Now I see it as a constraint, one that most goal-setting advice ignores.
Long-term goals tend to work against me.
I admire people who set huge goals and work relentlessly for months or years until they finally reap the rewards. For me, those goals usually turn into illusions.
For a long time, I thought the problem was lack of focus or motivation.
Now I think it’s a problem of scale.
Goals that are too big, too distant, and too slow to reward effort.
I’m far more responsive to small, visible wins than to distant promises. Long stretches of work without a clear sense of progress drain me quickly.
I know that prioritizing immediate gratification over larger future rewards is a classic recipe for misery—financial, intellectual, or physical. Knowing that, however, doesn’t make me immune to it.
I want to get in shape, but that snack right now is far more appealing than eighteen months of moderate training and dietary discipline.
I want financial freedom, but comfort now (in the form of two handfuls of subscriptions and take-out meals) feels more real than freedom later.
I want to break publishing consistency records, but designing writing routines is always more exciting than actually writing.
For years, I treated this as a character flaw.
Today, I see it as a constraint.
And instead of fighting it, I’ve adjusted how I define success.
The solution wasn’t to dream less.
It was to drastically reduce the size of my goals and shorten the time it takes to feel progress.
This isn’t about lowering expectations.
It’s about trusting systems more than outcomes.
Focusing on outcomes tends to produce frustration.
Focusing on systems produces consistency—and consistency, given enough time, produces results.
Prioritizing systems over outcomes turns progress into small, measurable steps.
Original goal: I want to be fit.
Adjusted goal: I want to maintain a small daily calorie deficit and go to the gym three times a week.
Effect: Every day comes with a clear, achievable target. Progress is frequent, and consistency slowly moves me closer to my ideal physical state.Original goal: I want financial freedom.
Adjusted goal: I want to save at least 10% of my income every month.
Effect: Gratification becomes monthly, concrete, and measurable. It doesn’t solve everything, but it creates direction.Original goal: I want to be in the top 1% of writers on Substack.
Adjusted goal: I want to write and publish every Thursday, indefinitely.
Effect: Each week brings a clear sense of completion. Over time, consistency does the rest.
Reducing the scale of goals—and the delay to reward—is especially helpful for people who struggle with unstable motivation.
Small, frequent wins help maintain direction. Even if the journey is slower, the likelihood of reaching the destination increases.
I know this doesn’t place me among classic high achievers.
It’s not a strategy for records or spectacular breakthroughs.
But it is the most honest way I’ve found to reach my potential using the reality and tools I actually have.
This isn’t settling for less.
It’s progressing at a pace that works for me.
It’s choosing compound interest because I know I don’t have the profile to be an angel investor. It’s rejecting the “all or nothing” mindset because, in practice, it often results in… nothing.
Some will see this as an excuse for lack of ambition.
I view it as a viable strategy for individuals who, like me, have already tried and failed enough times.
In an ideal world, we’d all pursue epic goals and achieve them quickly.
But living in reality—and adapting to it—is often what makes progress possible.
Reducing to move forward isn’t giving up.
It’s staying in motion.
So here’s the question:
What goal have you been avoiding because it feels too big—and what’s the smallest version you could commit to this week?