I recently completed 100 consecutive days of Peloton classes. And no, before you ask, Peloton did not sponsor this article, but if they’d like to retroactively compensate me for the sweat, stretching and emotional support…my DMs are open 😊 I did however get a fun “Badge” for completing this challenge, and subsequently, a topic for my POV this week.
The idea came from my friend and restaurant industry connector, queen and maven, Melissa Doolin Koehne, who asked me if I wanted to do a 100 day Peloton challenge with her. My answer was a quick yes.
Movement has always been a big part of my life. I’m a retired spin instructor (who comes out of retirement every May at NRA thanks to encouragement from Geoff and Amy and Carin), and I genuinely love working out. I look forward to exercise. I don’t need to trick myself into doing it, reward myself for doing it or spend the entire workout wondering when it will be over. For me, movement is the reward. It’s also my 1-hour a day time for me. (Another POV on 1 hour a day another…well..day).
I have also always been very disciplined about taking two rest days each week. Five days on. Two days off. Work hard. Recover. Repeat. It was a routine that worked for me, and I never questioned it….until suddenly I had committed to doing something every day for 100 days.
At first, I approached the challenge exactly how you would expect me to approach it. Full speed ahead. If I was going to show up, I was going to SHOW UP. But it didn’t take long for me to realize that I could not, and probably should not, turn every day into an all-out workout. My body still needed rest. My schedule still had opinions. Life continued to happen.
So, instead of eliminating my rest days, I started rethinking them.
What does an “off day” actually mean? Does rest have to mean doing absolutely nothing? Could I give my body a break from physical exertion while still doing something that helped me feel better? Could showing up count even when it didn’t involve dripping sweat, loud music and a leaderboard?
On those days, I stretched. And not the rushed, obligatory 30 seconds of stretching that I usually do while already mentally moving on to the next thing. I took an actual stretching class. I added meditation to my weekly practice. I tried Pilates (not for me, but tried it!). Instead of taking the subway to work, I walked. I moved more slowly and, perhaps more importantly for me (and the hardest part), I became comfortable letting slower still count.
That was the unexpected lesson of my 100-day streak. It wasn’t about pushing myself as hard as possible for 100 consecutive days. It was about learning that consistency does not require constant intensity.
Ok Julie, we get it, you like to exercise. What’s your point?
Well of course this exercise slow down totally relates to hospitality. Because apparently I am incapable of experiencing anything in life now without turning it into a hospitality metaphor or finding parallel food service lessons.
Hospitality loves intensity. We celebrate the packed dining room, the line around the block (speaking of which, anyone try Myka yet?), the record-breaking sales day, the conference with 6,000 people and the event where every seat is filled. We glorify the Saturday-night rush. We talk about grinding, hustling and being “always on.” No days off!
But no restaurant, business, team or person can operate at Saturday-night intensity seven days a week. And if they do, well, the burn out is real. And yet, we often treat the quieter days as if they somehow count less.
A slower shift is disappointing. A day without a big sale feels unproductive. A meeting that doesn’t immediately result in a contract feels unsuccessful. Training, planning, checking in with the team and fixing the small things that guests may never notice don’t deliver the same adrenaline rush as a packed house or a signed deal. But maybe those are hospitality’s days off, the industry’s “stretching and meditation” days.
If “off” for me is walking or stretching, maybe recovery in hospitality looks like taking the time to properly train a new employee instead of throwing them onto the floor because you’re short-staffed. Maybe it’s sitting down with a team member and asking how they’re doing before they reach the point of burnout. Maybe it’s deep-cleaning the piece of equipment everyone has been pretending not to notice. Maybe it’s reviewing a system, simplifying a process, reconnecting with a customer or giving yourself enough quiet to think about what the business actually needs next.
None of those things may look like a huge win from the outside. But they are still movement. They are still progress. And they are often what make the big, high-intensity moments possible.
Before you roll your eyes at me, this is not me suggesting that every moment of rest needs to become another opportunity for productivity. (Please do not leave this article thinking I have found a clever new way to assign homework on your day off!!!) Sometimes rest means doing absolutely nothing, and doing absolutely nothing can be exactly what your body, brain or team needs.
The lesson is not that we should always be doing more. It is that we need to expand our definition of what counts.
We have become so conditioned to recognize progress only when it is loud, visible and exhausting. But showing up does not have to look the same every day. Some days require the hard ride. Some days require the stretch. Some days, the healthiest thing you can do is get off the leaderboard entirely.
So as I take the podium for my 100 day award acceptance speech (that no one asked for, I know…) I’d like to thank Melissa for bringing me into this challenge. This badge belongs to both of us. And thanks for also inadvertently curing my writers block 😊
To everyone in hospitality proudly shouting “No days off,” I have one question: What if the days we call “off” are actually the days that keep us going?
