Miles, coffee, jazz, and sunlight.
We love to imagine creativity as a lightning strike, random, rare, out of our control. But in my experience, the best ideas don’t arrive out of nowhere; they arrive on a schedule. Routine isn’t a cage for creativity, it’s the stagehand that sets the lights, tapes the marks, and cues the music so the work can perform.
Below is how I structure my day as a designer, and why each ritual matters.
1) The Four-Mile Walk: Warming up the senses
Every morning, my wife and I take a four-mile walk. It’s part workout, part moving meditation, part daily stand-up. We talk about the day, scan the neighborhood for wildlife, and let the outside world reset our eyes after sleep.
Because our route skirts Zoo Atlanta, the mornings are often wild in the best way: lions warming up their voices, and the occasional glimpse of elephants and giraffes easing into their own routines. It’s impossible not to think about scale, pattern, and rhythm when a giraffe moves across your eyeline.
Walking gives me momentum before I ever sit down at a desk. By the time I’m home, my mind is awake and ready to go. The walk is my warm-up lap for the brain and body.
Design takeaway: Start with movement. It’s easier to design with an engine that’s already idling.
2) Coffee, on purpose
I don’t rush coffee; I treat it like a small design project. Grind, measure, boil, bloom, each step has a constraint and a purpose. That tiny ceremony tells my brain, we’re making something now. It’s not about caffeine (though I won’t pretend it doesn’t help); it’s about intention. The first sip is my cue to open the day’s canvas.
Design takeaway: Give yourself a ritual that signals “creative mode.” A deliberate start beats a chaotic one.
3) Jazz to set the pace
I begin most mornings with jazz, usually something with enough swing to move but not so much it steals attention. Jazz teaches a lesson I try to carry into design: strong structure with room to improvise. The rhythm keeps me focused; the harmony keeps me curious. When the music is right, my work finds a tempo.
Design takeaway: Sound is a tool. Choose audio that sets your working heartbeat, not your scrollingheartbeat.
4) BeltLine bike commute: flow beats traffic
I ride my bike six miles into work and most of the way is on the Atlanta BeltLine. It’s consistently quicker than driving Atlanta city streets, and infinitely calmer. The path turns the commute into a glide: trees, murals, art and steady cadence instead of brake lights and honking.
By the time I arrive, I’m energized rather than angry. The motion keeps ideas moving; small sights along the path often spark ideas. Most importantly, I start the workday present, not recovering from traffic.
Design takeaway: Choose routes that lower friction. The environment you move through shapes the headspace you bring to the canvas.
5) Midday sunlight: a second reset
Around lunch, I step outside again. Five minutes or fifteen, a stretch, a short loop, even just walking the dog. It’s less about steps and more about switching environments. I come back with better perspective, literally and mentally. I feel rebalanced and make decisions faster.
Design takeaway: Build a halftime show into your day. Your afternoon self will thank you.
Why routine works for creative work
It removes friction. Decisions like when to work, where to start, what to do next are already made. I spend fewer brain cells on logistics and more on the actual problem.
It creates reliable energy. Repeating the right inputs (movement, hydration, focus cues) produces more consistent outputs.
It turns progress into a loop. When my morning has a successful rhythm, I want to return to it tomorrow. Routine compounds.
My simple framework: anchors, not shackles
I think of routine as three daily anchors:
Move (morning walk)
Signal (coffee ritual + jazz)
Reset (midday sunlight)
Everything else can flex with deadlines and life, client calls, deep work, admin, revisions. The anchors stay. They make the day sturdy without making it rigid.
If you’re building your own routine
Pick one anchor to start. A five-minute version beats a grand plan you abandon.
Tie it to an existing habit. Coffee already happens? Add your soundtrack or a two-minute stretch.
Put it on the calendar. Guard it like a meeting with your best client (because it is).
Give it a name. “Creative warm-up” feels more meaningful than “walk.”
Review weekly. Keep what works, drop what doesn’t, and iterate just like design.
Great design often looks effortless, but it rarely is. My routine doesn’t make ideas for me; it just makes it possible for me to meet them every day, on time, alert, and ready. Miles, coffee, jazz, sunlight. Repeat.
If you try any of this, or if you have your own anchors, I’d love to hear them. Creativity is personal, but discipline is shareable. Send me an email at steely@steelyworks.com and tell me about it.
