A piece of advice:
Wear comfortable shoes.
At first glance, that sounds like something your mom would say before you go hiking, to a conference, a wedding, a trade show, or some event where everyone else is trying to look impressive while quietly destroying their feet.
But there’s something deeper in it.
This is not really about shoes.
It is about how small sources of discomfort can quietly control our behaviour.
If your shoes are uncomfortable, you’ll eventually find reasons to sit down. You’ll tell yourself that you don’t really need to hike all the way to the top. You don’t really need to walk across the room to go talk to that person. You don’t really need to check out that booth, introduce yourself, ask the question, take the tour, or stay a little longer.
You’ll tell yourself, “I’ve earned a break.”
And maybe you have.
But maybe your feet just hurt.
That’s the uncomfortable truth hiding inside the advice. Sometimes our decisions aren’t as noble, rational, or intentional as we like to imagine. Sometimes we’re not choosing rest because we thoughtfully weighed the situation. Sometimes we’re choosing rest because something small and physical has made action more expensive.
And once action feels expensive, the mind gets very good at building a case against it.
Discomfort Creates Its Own Logic
One of the strange things about human behaviour is how quickly we justify what our body already wants to do.
If we’re tired, we find reasons why the opportunity wasn’t worth pursuing.
If we’re hungry, we decide the conversation is annoying.
If we’re uncomfortable, we suddenly become very philosophical about why staying where we are is the wise choice.
That doesn’t mean every moment of rest is weakness. That would be a silly and exhausting way to live. There are times when sitting down is the right thing to do. There are times when stopping is wisdom.
But there is a difference between choosing rest and being quietly pushed into passivity by avoidable discomfort.
Without that distinction, we start treating every pause like a wise decision, even when the pause was created by a problem we could have fixed.
Life presents a lot of opportunities in small, ordinary ways. Not every opportunity arrives with a trumpet announcement and a clearly labelled door. Sometimes it’s a conversation across the room. Sometimes it’s a person you almost introduce yourself to. Sometimes it’s one more question you almost ask. Sometimes it’s the decision to stay engaged for another twenty minutes instead of mentally checking out.
And sometimes the only thing standing between you and that moment is the fact that your shoes are killing you.
Again, not really about shoes.
Friction Changes Behaviour
I think we underestimate the power of friction.
Friction is anything that makes action harder than it needs to be. It can be physical, mental, emotional, or environmental.
Bad shoes are friction.
A dead phone is friction.
A messy desk is friction.
A tool that takes too long to open is friction.
A calendar packed so tightly that you have no mental breathing room is friction.
A process with too many steps is friction.
None of these things seem dramatic on their own. In fact, they’re easy to dismiss because each one feels too small to change much. But small things become powerful when they sit directly in front of action.
A door that is slightly harder to open still gets opened less often.
That’s how friction works. It doesn’t need to stop you completely. It just needs to make the better choice a little less convenient. Over time, that’s enough.
This is why the practical details of life shape behaviour more than we sometimes want to admit. We like to think success is mostly about vision, ambition, values, discipline, or courage. And yes, those things still matter. Of course they do.
But there’s also a lower, simpler layer underneath all of that.
Can you actually move?
Can you act when the moment appears?
Can you stay in the room long enough for something useful to happen?
Can you make the right decision easy enough that you’ll actually make it?
That’s where comfortable shoes become a useful metaphor.
Don’t Make Discipline Harder Than It Needs To Be
There’s a strange pride people sometimes take in unnecessary discomfort.
We act as if making something harder automatically makes it more meaningful. We treat friction like a badge of seriousness. We imagine that if we suffer more, the result must somehow be more earned.
I’m not convinced that’s true.
There is a difference between productive discomfort and pointless discomfort.
Productive discomfort stretches you. It asks something meaningful from you. It makes you stronger, more capable, more honest, or more disciplined.
Pointless discomfort just drains capacity.
Uncomfortable shoes at an event don’t build character. They just make you less likely to walk around.
A disorganized workspace doesn’t make you more creative. It just makes starting harder.
A bad process doesn’t make your team more resilient. It just teaches everyone to work around the system.
A life filled with unnecessary friction doesn’t prove you’re tough. It may just mean you’re spending energy on the wrong battle.
The goal isn’t to remove all discomfort from life. That’s impossible, and probably not even desirable. Some discomfort is necessary. Some discomfort is the price of growth, responsibility, and doing serious work.
But avoidable friction should be treated differently.
If something small is repeatedly making good action harder, fix it.
Wear the comfortable shoes.
The Person Who Can Move Has An Advantage
A lot of opportunity goes to the person who is still standing, still curious, and still willing to move.
That may sound overly simple, but I think it’s true.
At an event, the person who keeps moving meets more people.
In business, the person who removes friction from their systems makes better execution more likely.
In personal life, the person who sets up their environment well has less need to rely on heroic willpower.
In leadership, the person who understands friction can see why people aren’t doing what they’re “supposed” to do. Sometimes the issue is not attitude. Sometimes the path is just too annoying.
When we miss that, we start moralizing behaviour too quickly.
We assume people are lazy, careless, disengaged, or undisciplined. Sometimes they are. That’s part of reality too.
But sometimes the environment is poorly designed.
Sometimes the process creates hesitation.
Sometimes people are sitting down because their shoes hurt.
That doesn’t excuse everything, but it does explain more than we might want to admit.
Set Yourself Up To Act
The bigger lesson is this:
Set yourself up so that action feels natural.
Don’t rely only on motivation. Motivation is useful, but it isn’t always available when you need it. Don’t rely only on discipline either. Discipline matters, but it shouldn’t have to fight a hundred tiny battles before the real work even begins.
Prepare the conditions.
Charge the phone.
Bring the notebook.
Eat before the meeting.
Clear the desk.
Make the first step obvious.
Choose the clothes that let you move.
Wear the shoes that let you stay in the game.
None of this guarantees success. Comfortable shoes won’t make you brave, brilliant, charismatic, or wise. They won’t make the opportunity happen.
But they remove one unnecessary reason to avoid it.
And sometimes that’s enough.
Because the small excuses matter. They accumulate. They shape our behaviour quietly. They determine whether we lean in or pull back, whether we walk over or stay seated, whether we engage or retreat.
So yes, wear comfortable shoes.
Not because shoes are the point.
Because action is the point.
And it’s worth paying attention to anything that makes action easier.
