The Physics of Getting Out of Bed

Some mornings, getting out of bed feels like the hardest part of the day.

When you live with anxiety like I do, it can hit before you’re even fully awake—this vague, directionless dread that just is. So I stay there, wrapped in warm covers, unwilling to move.

My wife is long gone. She’s up before the sun, always has been. I think she’d sleep in if she could, but she’s not built that way.

And me? Left to my own devices, I might stay in bed all day. Some days I love it, it’s peaceful, simple. But other days, the weight of responsibility, of being Derek, makes even lifting the blanket feel impossible.

Most mornings, I stare at the ceiling in quiet denial. When the alarm goes off, the bargaining begins. Five more minutes. Ten. Fifteen. I argue with myself like a tired lawyer.

The justifications come easily. The to-do list can wait. I showered yesterday (I think). I’ll eat breakfast in the car. I can skip that meeting.

Eventually, time, guilt, or the dogs drag me from bed. It’s rarely graceful.

As I lay there bargaining with myself, my groggy brain sometimes drifts back to high school physics. Newton’s First Law:

Alright, so I’m the object at rest. The question is: what’s the unbalanced force? Caffeine? Shame? A dog that really needs to pee?

I dunno. Science is hard. And so I end up frustrated with my lack of initiative.

But maybe the problem isn’t that I lack motivation, maybe it’s that I’ve misunderstood it. I’ve been treating it like a prerequisite. Like a feeling that’s supposed to show up first. But what if motivation doesn’t lead to action? What if it follows it?

So this week, let’s talk about motivation: what it really is, why it rarely shows up when we need it, and how Newton might have been onto something about getting started.

The Motivation Myth

We think we need to feel inspired before we act. But more often than not, that spark doesn’t come and we get frustrated.

That's because motivation isn't what we think it is. It’s not some muse that graces us with its presence. It’s not a match you strike. It’s more like a fire that you feed. You don’t wait for it; you build it.

Here’s what’s actually going on in your brain: good old dopamine, that feel-good chemical we associate with motivation, doesn’t just show up to get us started all on its own. It gets released when we make progress, when we check something off, when we see ourselves moving forward.

The brain rewards action, not intention.

Think about how many times you've forced yourself to start something, feeling completely uninspired. Then somehow, ten minutes in, you’re actually into it. That’s your brain’s reward system kicking in. The energy shows up after you begin, not before.

We don’t work out because we’re pumped.

We start working out, and three minutes into the warm-up, our brain goes, “Oh, we’re doing this? Okay, here’s some feel-good chemicals.”

We don’t write because we’re motivated.

We write, and somewhere in the middle of that awful first paragraph, our brain starts releasing those little hits of dopamine that make us want to write the second one.

Motivation isn’t the fuel that gets you started. It’s the neurochemical reward for already being in motion.

So if you’ve been waiting to feel ready, you might be waiting for your brain to do something it’s not designed to do.

Build a Bias Toward Motion

If motivation isn't reliable, then momentum is the better bet.

Momentum is about getting into motion and staying there. Not with some giant leap, but with a shift so small you can't really talk yourself out of it. The trick is to make the first step so small it feels silly not to take it.

Most of us overestimate what we can do in a single heroic burst and completely underestimate what happens when we just... start. The first two minutes matter more than the next two hours.

Here’s how that looks in real life:

• Don’t write a novel. Open the document.

• Don’t run a marathon. Put on your shoes.

• Don’t clean the house. Put one dish in the dishwasher.

• Don’t fix your entire life. Do one thing before checking your phone.

Once you're in motion, even just a little bit, something shifts.

Motion creates progress. Progress creates clarity. Clarity creates motivation. Motivation creates more motion.

Your brain starts collecting evidence: “Hey, look at that. I’m doing the thing.” That creates a spark of identity, tiny proof that you’re the kind of person who shows up. Suddenly you’re not trying to become someone new. You’re just following through on who you already started being five minutes ago.

That’s Newton’s First Law in action: a body in motion stays in motion. This also applies to bodies that really wanted to stay in bed in the morning.

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A Summer Experiment: Design for Momentum

This summer, I'm not trying to become a morning person or unlock some peak-performance superpower. I'm just trying to make starting slightly less painful.

Not bigger goals. Just better beginnings.

So I'm trying some small experiments, little tricks that I hope will create momentum before my brain figures out what's happening and starts listing reasons to stay in bed.

Here's what I am going to try:

• Use a two-alarm system—one to wake me, one to move me.

  The first is my phone (more on that in a bit): soft, familiar, just enough to break sleep. The second is my sound machine that has an alarm. The plan is to have it kick in later and require me to get up to shut it off. It's accountability by design.

• Allow phone time, but set a hard timer.

  Scrolling is part of my morning routine, and I’m not trying to pretend it’s not. But I need boundaries. So I’ll set a 10-minute timer, and when it ends, I move on.

• Establish a physical cue.

  Not standing just yet, just sitting up and breathing. Feet on the floor, hands on knees, eyes closed. A posture change that mixes things up and signals: OK, we are doing this.

• Choose one win.

  Nothing impressive required, just something I pick. Stretch for a minute. Drink a glass of water. Meditate for three minutes (outside the bed). Something I choose before the world starts making demands.

These aren't life-changing habits. They are meant to be small cues to myself. Little invitations to get moving. Because if I can make the first five minutes easier, maybe getting up doesn't have to feel like going to war with myself every morning.

Cause perhaps that's where the day actually begins. Not when the alarm sounds, but when I make that first small movement toward being awake.

Conclusion: The Physics of Starting

The physics are pretty clear: objects at rest stay at rest until acted upon by an outside force.

The surprise is that force can be as small as opening your eyes, sitting up, or reaching for the glass of water on your nightstand.

My hope is that the morning battle won’t be won with motivation. It’ll be won in tiny increments of motion, each one making the next one a little more inevitable.

So this week, when you're stuck—in bed, at your desk, wherever—don't wait for inspiration to strike.

Try asking yourself:

Then make it. And maybe the rest will follow. Not because you suddenly feel motivated, but because you're already in motion.

And at 6 AM, physics might be a more reliable friend than feelings.

As always, thanks for reading,
— Derek
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