Inquisitive.me

Discipline is powerful.
But without play, it turns into pressure.

I learned this lesson from my dog—and it completely changed how I train, work, and move my body.

I’m ambitious.
If I plant a task in my mind, I’ll do it—full force. Stubborn. Consistent.

That sounds like a strength. And sometimes it is.

But sometimes… it backfires. Hard.

I became really aware of this while training my dog, Leto.

When I got him as a puppy, I wanted to do everything right. I trained hard with him because I wanted him to be a well-behaved dog. A perfect dog. At the time, I lived in an area where people weren’t particularly fond of dogs. I wanted to show them that my dog was different. That he was a really good boy.

When it’s just about me, I can push through almost anything.

Pain in my foot? Still running.

Feeling miserable? Work still needs to get done.

I can push beyond my health—mental or physical—and keep going. In some situations, that mindset helps. In others, it’s a straight road to burnout. (Which, unsurprisingly, I’ve experienced.)

With Leto, though, I couldn’t apply the same logic.
And spoiler alert: that logic wasn’t working so well for me either.

He didn’t understand why he had to behave perfectly.
Why he got punished for being protective of me or making his own decisions—something deeply rooted in his breed and genetics—was suddenly wrong.

Our training was all discipline. We repeated the same behaviors over and over, aiming for perfection.

But perfection never came.

Instead, he got tired. Frustrated. Demotivated.

He made more mistakes because he was exhausted—and I responded by pushing harder.

The signs were there. Clear as day.

I just didn’t see them. I’m very good at ignoring warning signs—especially when I’m convinced discipline is the answer.

The turning point came when I noticed those same behavior in other dogs. I reflected. And then I finally saw them in Leto too.

So I changed my approach.

Training became playful. Less like training, more like a game.

And suddenly, things worked.

Which brings me to something unexpected: my workouts.

A couple of weeks ago, I bought an indoor bike. It came with an app that turns cycling into a game. You have an avatar, you ride uphill and downhill, other riders pass you, you can chase them, challenge them, collect stars.

It’s basically a video game.

It just only works if you pedal.

And that changed everything.

Training stopped feeling like something I had to do—and started feeling like something I got to do. It wasn’t discipline anymore. It was play.

That’s exactly how I used to learn anatomy and physiology back when I was a student. Turning hard things into something engaging was always my secret weapon.

I’ve never been a bike person. At least, that’s what I thought.

Now I find myself genuinely enjoying sitting on a stationary bike and just pedaling—because it’s fun.

Just like Leto enjoys obedience training now that it feels like a game.

There’s a question from Ali Abdaal that often comes to mind:

“What would it look like if this were fun?”

Whenever something feels heavy or exhausting, that question changes how I approach it.

When I was writing my bachelor thesis or endless protocols, I’d put on epic soundtracks—Lord of the Rings, Pirates of the Caribbean, Two Steps From Hell, Hans Zimmer. No vocals (too distracting), just music that made me feel like I was on an adventure instead of stuck at a desk.

Before I got Leto, I started going on long walks—and discovered audiobooks.

Before that, audiobooks were not an option for me. “That’s not real reading,” I thought.

Turns out, I was wrong. I loved them.

Today, walks with Leto are usually tech-free. But during dark winter months, when motivation drops, I bend my own rules. I listen to audiobooks when I feel tired or down—and suddenly, the walk feels lighter. Rules can give structure and orientation. But it’s still your life. And you’re allowed to change your own rules when they stop serving you.

You can stack movement with connection, too.

Go for a walk when you expect a phone call.

Call your mum. Your grandmother. A friend. Your dad.

Take someone with you—to the gym, for a run, on a walk. When I lived in the mountains, I often hiked alone. But on days I felt demotivated, I’d ask a friend to join me. It made all the difference.

Walk a dog—yours, or someone else’s.

Move with your kids. Walk to the playground instead of driving. Be the example they learn from quietly.

And here’s the most important part:

You don’t always have to follow the main path.

When I play Assassin’s Creed, I rarely stick to the main storyline. I drift off. I explore. I do side quests—because that’s what I enjoy.

You can do that with training too.

Leave the plan for a day. Do something fun.

It’s better to do a little with joy than to force yourself through discomfort when your heart isn’t in it.

We don’t have to make life harder on purpose.

Yes—training needs to be challenging to create progress. I still believe that.
Hard training builds strength. It pushes limits. It creates change.

But progress without joy is fragile.

Fun is what keeps you coming back on the days motivation is low.
Consistency is born from enjoyment, not pressure.

Training hard moves you forward.
Making it fun makes sure you don’t stop.

🧪 Let’s Experiment

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Progress comes from challenge.
Consistency comes from enjoyment.
You need both.

If training—or movement in general—has started to feel heavy, rigid, or like another obligation, this isn’t a sign you’re doing it wrong. It might just be a sign that it’s time to rebalance effort and enjoyment.

So instead of asking “How can I push harder?”, try asking something else.

🎯 Try This:

For the next week, experiment with making one part of your training more playful.

• Turn a workout into a game (points, levels, challenges—however that looks for you).
• Stack movement with something you enjoy: music, podcasts, audiobooks, phone calls.
• If you have a plan but feel drained, allow yourself a “side quest”: a walk instead of a run, mobility instead of intensity, play instead of performance.
• Ask yourself before you start: What would this look like if it were fun?

Don’t remove effort entirely. Just soften the edges.

🧠 Final Thought:

Discipline builds strength. Play keeps you coming back. You don’t have to choose between training hard or making it fun. The goal is to train hard enough to grow—and make it enjoyable enough to stay.

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Keep it simple, stay curious, and keep learning—you’ve got this.

Take care,

Carina 🦊