There’s nothing I love more than a good ole morning routine. During that early-morning brain fog, I rely on simple habits to anchor and ground me: feed the chickens, drink a liter of water, and get five minutes of unobstructed sunshine. (Bonus points if I get in a workout or a cold plunge!) These rituals prepare me and my body for the day ahead.

I’m not alone in my focus on morning routines. I nerd out: I read articles, watch vlogs, and experiment with different practices. (If my previous post on Dr. Andrew Huberman’s morning optimization tips is any indication…) Routines help reduce decision fatigue and bring structure to the chaos of daily life. On the micro level of my schedule, I thrive on that scaffolding.

Take jiujitsu. I’ve carved out Monday and Tuesday nights for training. If something conflicts with those times, I make it up later in the week. It’s a non-negotiable commitment to myself: two classes a week, every week. Not because I’m excited or motivated to go—I rarely want to exercise before I start. As Huberman and other experts explain, dopamine (that precious molecule tied to pleasure and motivation) follows action. Your brain doesn’t release it in advance as a reward for thinking about a good habit. You have to move your body, take the first step, and then motivation comes online.

Micro Habits Need Macro Purpose

Routines sustain me. But only if they’re rooted in something deeper. Without a meaningful purpose, all those small habits can become performative. I end up chasing ego validation, rather than moving toward something I truly care about.

I hit that wall with jiujitsu recently. I asked myself: Why am I really doing this? Is it just so I can say I have a black belt one day? If that’s the only reason, then I’m letting my ego steer the ship. I don’t want to invest my time, money, and energy into something that’s only about status.

So I dug deeper. Why is this path important to me? The answer surprised me. It certainly was not just so I can brag about having a black belt. In some ways, it is about skill development, discipline, or personal growth. But it’s more than that for me now. It is about being a trans athlete in the world. It is about saying with my body and my presence: I belong here. We belong here. We have always been here.

From that place of clarity, the routine matters more to me now. When it’s Monday night and I want to bail because I’m tired or hungry or busy, I remind myself of the bigger story. I choose to honor that larger purpose, even when it’s uncomfortable and inconvenient. Even when I’m fighting myself tooth and nail to get out the door.

Want vs. Need—and Who’s Deciding

Still, not every override of immediate desire is healthy. Sometimes I push past hunger or fatigue in ways that aren’t aligned with care, but with control—say, body dysmorphia telling me not to eat, or a fear of disappointing others. In those moments, I’m learning to pause and ask: Is this my intuition speaking, or is it conditioning?

Routine shouldn’t become a rigid script. Listening to my body in the moment—honoring the need to rest, to eat, to disconnect—is just as essential.

The point isn’t to bulldoze my way through discomfort every time. It’s to build discernment: When is this resistance a sign I need to push through for something greater, and when is it a sign I need to slow down and listen?

The Balance Between Structure and Spontaneity

So yes, dopamine follows action, and routine creates the container for that action. But it’s not just about routine. The most dopamine is released not through predictable rewards, but through unexpected ones—meaning that spontaneity and novelty matter, too. Play, curiosity, and listening to my gut are powerful motivators.

In the end, I think it’s about this question: Do you need to, or do you want to? And if you want to, what’s the larger vision that this habit or action helps bring into reality—not just for you, but for your community?

Your routine is a collection of stepping stones. But not every stone is yours to carry. Some can be skipped. Some should be added. Some are worth building entirely new paths for.

So build your routines. Let them support you. But always let them be in service of something deeper—something that brings you closer to the person, the world, and the future you want to live in.