Until I was 16, I lived on the sixth floor of a standard communist bloc of flats in a standard neighborhood of Bucharest.
The elevator wasn't working half the time, and the other half it was busy.
So I mostly took the stairs.
I recently realized that since I moved away, I've never happened to live in a building where I had to walk up more than one flight of stairs. I've always, unintentionally, ended up on the ground floor or first floor of a building.
So I always take the stairs.
Over time I realized I developed a preference for taking the stairs everywhere I can. I go for the stairs in airports, or walk up instead of taking the escalator out of the New York subway stations that have it.
I mostly enjoy it because it gives me a slight sense of joy at the idea that I might have added minutes to my life by choosing a less sedentary path.
Much like rounding up debit card charges and automatically investing them through Acorns, the compound effects of my micro-sacrifices probably won't add up to a wealth of benefits.
Writing every day just to keep up a streak sometimes feels like taking the stairs.
I know there's no reward at the top today, and likely there will never be. But I do it anyway, to honor the fact that I can.