This morning, I stepped outside to face the aftermath of an overnight snowfall—8 to 10 inches of fresh, heavy snow blanketing our driveway. Shoveling has never been a task I dread. In fact, I appreciate its rhythm, crisp air, and satisfaction in seeing the cleared cement behind me. It feeds that part of me that thrives on the visible progress of my efforts.

But today, as I reached for a shovel, I made a choice that the younger me wouldn’t have. Instead of instinctively grabbing the larger, broader shovel—the one designed to move the most snow in the least amount of time—I chose the smaller one. It might seem counterintuitive at first. Shouldn’t a bigger job require the biggest tool? But experience whispered otherwise. I knew the smaller shovel would prevent me from overloading my body, forcing a more measured approach, and ultimately making the task more manageable.

That wasn’t the only shift in thinking. Normally, my method is to plow straight down the middle of the driveway and push the snow to each side—a system that has always felt like the “right” way to tackle the job. But today, I abandoned efficiency in favor of ease. I worked in small sections, moving the snow bit by bit toward one side and then the other. It felt slower, but steady. The progress was there, just in a way that didn’t leave me exhausted or overwhelmed.

As I worked, I realized how much this mirrors the way I approach hard things in life now. When I was younger, I would throw myself at challenges headfirst, believing that effort alone—going “all out”—was the best way to achieve a goal. But experience has taught me that sustained effort matters more. That sometimes, the slower path, the smaller steps, the gentler approach, is the one that actually gets you where you want to go—without burnout, without injury, without resentment.

There’s a certain wisdom in knowing how to pace yourself. In recognizing that pushing through isn’t always the best answer. That working with yourself, rather than against yourself, can still lead to accomplishing the goal. I finished clearing the driveway feeling strong, not spent. The job got done, and I still had energy left for the rest of the day.

Life, like shoveling deep snow, doesn’t always have to be tackled with brute force. Sometimes, the best way through is slow and steady—choosing the right tool, the right method, and the right pace to keep moving forward.