Adulthood has a sneaky habit of turning joy into productivity.
I’ve been thinking about that a lot lately.
Remember being a kid on a bike?
Not riding for fitness. Not tracking miles. Not optimizing anything. Just absolutely hauling down the sidewalk looking for the perfect crack in the pavement you could turn into a jump.
That feeling mattered more than the destination.
You’d hit the curb just right and suddenly you weren’t some nerd in tube socks anymore. You were flying. For a split second, gravity lost the argument.
That was enough.
Somewhere along the way, a lot of us traded that feeling for metrics.
Now riding bikes has to become a workout. A goal. A distance challenge. A graph uploaded to an app so another grown-up can give it a thumbs up while sitting in a meeting they also don’t want to be in.
We took something rad and slowly engineered the joy out of it.
– Not intentionally.
– – Just… gradually.
I catch myself fighting that drift all the time.
Why do I do creative work?
Because I freaking love it.
I love making things. I love the moment an idea starts turning into something tangible. I love the spark of trying something that might not work. I love finding the little unexpected detail that suddenly makes the whole thing feel alive.
– That joy is the point.
– – Not the title.
– – – Not the next level.
– – – – Not some polished explanation about “impact” or “creative excellence.”
Just the feeling.
I think a lot of us spend so much time chasing the next thing that we forget to actually feel the current thing. We move through milestones so fast we barely notice we’re standing in one.
At some point, we decide we don’t have time to jump the curb anymore because we’ve already done it before. Then eventually we forget the curb was ever there at all.
I challenge you… try to remember that feeling. The rush of the first jump. The tiny risk. The possibility that this one might go a little bigger than the last one.
That’s the real fuel.
And honestly? I think that’s how creative people stay creative.
– Not through some magical process document.
– – Not through productivity hacks.
– – – Not through a playbook.
– – – – They keep finding new curbs to jump.
Sometimes it’s experimenting with a color palette they’ve never used before. Sometimes it’s collaborating with somebody new. Sometimes it’s testing an idea that feels slightly bonkers. Sometimes it’s simply making something that reminds them why they fell in love with creating in the first place.
The specifics almost don’t matter.
The feeling does.
And to the leaders, creative directors, execs, and decision-makers out there: let your people find their jump.
When somebody lights up about an idea, pay attention to that. They might be rediscovering that the curb is there.
– Protect it.
– – Encourage it.
– – – Celebrate it when they land it.
Because people who are allowed to feel joy in their work will almost always surprise you. They’ll take risks. They’ll innovate. They’ll care more deeply. Not because they were forced to, but because they found that little rush again.
That matters.
Also, if we’re being honest, this entire essay may just be an elaborate justification for buying a BMX bike and riding with my kids.
And you know what?
Worth it.
So if you happen to see a bald guy hopping curbs somewhere around Leawood with the biggest dumb grin on his face, just know he’s out there trying to remember something important.
Not productivity.