The Secret of Making Decisions That Last

How to decide for the year ahead and avoid inner chatter

by Anton Zemlyanoy | Self-Talk

Making decisions is a skill you can develop. And if you make decisions strategically — it can save you months of inner chatter:

Should I network or wait until the time is right?
Should I express what I think or see how my boss feels?
Should I do something I enjoy or stay back and finish the work?
Why can’t I decide? Why do I go back and forth in my decisions? Why is this so hard? What’s wrong with me?

What I found is that making a clear decision — one decision, for a specific period — can switch off that voice almost entirely. And I discovered this almost by accident — I was already using it when I started to see how much it helped me stick to my decisions with clarity, without any noise. From there, I started applying it deliberately — saving myself hours of unproductive thinking a week. Add that up over a year or two, and you’re talking months.

This addresses the core tension we often experience as adults — the tension when we try to choose one attractive option over the other. Do I stay back and work on a project I love, or spend time with family? Do I exercise or stay home and read a book — both of which recharge me, but differently? Do I stay in this organisation where I was just offered a promotion, or go for an equally attractive offer with a better culture but that feels more like a startup?

This is called the conflict of values and is not a personality flaw, but a structural challenge*. One that can get capable people stuck between decisions. Sometimes for minutes. At others — months, or even years.

The principle

Here is what I found to be extremely efficient: decide once that you will do something, for a specific period. Non-negotiable. I call it making decisions that last — though the period can be a month, a semester, or two years, depending on what you’re designing.

Decide: what, when, for how long.
Revisit the decision at the end of the cycle. Not before.

That last line is the key. You’re not committing forever. You’re committing to one clean experiment, with a built-in review point. Everything between now and that review point is already decided. Which means the inner chatter has nothing left to argue about.

10K weekends — from a decision experiment to years of joy

About ten years ago, I wanted to run on a consistent basis. The problem was that sometimes I’d feel like running, and sometimes I didn’t, which created a hit-and-miss relationship with running for the first couple of years. Which in turn fed a familiar critical voice: “You’re not consistent. Why can others do it, but not you?”

On a bad day, I would even call myself lazy — a word that my therapist friend said doesn’t really exist in psychology, because there is always some motive behind us doing or not doing something.

So after my first (and only) marathon, I made one decision: run 10km once a week on Sundays, for the next three months. The distance wasn’t the challenge — I’d been running 3km for years, then 5km, then prepped for the marathon, so 10km wasn’t a stretch. But consistency was.

What I didn’t realise at the time was how much that one decision would save me later. When to run, how long for, at what time, where — all of it decided in advance. The only question left was whether to show up. And I’d already answered that.

Later I learned that there has bee plenty of research to confirm my experience. For example, a meta-analysis by Gollwitzer and Sheeran (an overview of 94 studies with over 8,000 participants) refers to this concept as implementation intention, with the key finding that people who specified when, where, and how they would act on a decision showed we able following through at higher rates compared to those who merely set intentions (e.g. "I’m going to run this year”, or “I will be more decisive this year”).

By the end of the second month, I was enjoying it so much that I asked myself: what if I kept this going for six months? For the whole year?

That question made me nervous. But since it was an experiment, and not a promise, I smiled and leaned into it. I didn’t make any public declarations, either. I’d learned that public accountability works beautifully for some people. For me, it doesn’t — and knowing that turned out to be just as useful as the decision itself.

It also protected me from what a teacher of mine once described brilliantly:

“I weighed all my options and changed my mind.”

An excellent defence mechanism, dressed up as careful thinking. Changing your mind too often erodes the trust you have in yourself — and chips away at the story you tell yourself about who you are.

Over that year, I loosened the rules a bit to make room for life: instead of Sunday mornings only, it became any time on the weekend. The decision was still made. The chatter stayed quiet. Eight years later, I still run once on most weekends of the year. It is no longer hard. It is a joy — and a part of my life available to me pretty much anywhere, anytime. I even ran on the spot for two months during the Covid lockdowns.

Each run, as James Clear writes, was casting a vote towards my identity as someone consistent. I was proud. And the proof was accumulating.

A single decision for a two-year master’s degree that shaped my professional foundation

If the principle of making decisions that last worked for running — I started to think where else could it help me? About a year into my coach training, I’d completed courses across Washington DC, New York, London, and Amsterdam. I was certified, ready to practice — but not ready to go full-time yet and faced a void behind the question — now what? Which is why I was excited to discover a master’s degree in coaching psychology right where I lived: two years of in-person learning, two years with new colleagues in this profession, two years of figuring out what place coaching would take in my life.

There was one significant dilemma. I’d just become a dad to a beautiful boy, had a demanding career as a fashion photographer and was leading a small team in my startup helping freelancers become more professional. To add two years of study — with lectures and practicums every weeknight and on Saturdays — I had to ask: at the cost of what? Time with family? The project that still needed me? My main work that was bringing income and still giving me real joy?

A perfect conflict of values, where every option felt as difficult as the other.

The solution wasn’t a pros-and-cons list. It was a real conversation with my partner — where we clearly expressed the concerns, just as clearly expressed the support, and made one specific agreement: if this was putting too much strain on our family, I would defer or pause. With that in place, I had an all-clear to make the decision. This time, for two years ahead.

Similar to running, I gave myself one escape clause: I could review whether to stay or leave the program after the first semester. As you can probably tell from my writing — in that program I found myself exactly where I wanted to be.

Was combining a young family, a startup, and a full-time job easy because of that decision? Not exactly. But it was extremely fulfilling. And because the why and the how were clear to both of us, I could push away doubt and guilt when they surfaced. The clarity we’d created together did that work. As a bonus, the joy I was experiencing from studying what I found fascinating spilled over into our new family life.

Where else does this work?

The same principle applies beyond sport and study. Here are a few examples from my own life and from clients I’ve worked with:

My former client decided — through our coaching work together — to meet one new person outside their organisation every two weeks to widen their industry network. One decision. Months of follow-through, without renegotiating it each time.
Another client said no to an entire category of meetings they didn’t need to attend, rather than evaluating each one individually. One decision, made once, with lasting effect.
When to read: before bed only — after trying various combinations, this works best for me at this stage of life and parenting.
Write one article every two weeks for a year — my rhythm for 2024–2025, renewed and increased from February 2026.

The pattern in each case is the same: reduce the number of decisions you need to make to one, for a chosen period. Then invest that saved energy somewhere it actually matters.

How to apply this

If you make a decision and don’t carry through — don’t make the mistake of labelling yourself as unreliable or indecisive. You probably didn’t pick the right format, intensity, or conditions for your goal. Adjust the design, not the verdict on yourself.

Choose the intensity and pace you can maintain. Three hundred metres of brisk walking once a week for a month will create a stronger rhythm than a one-kilometre run that leaves you exhausted and looking for reasons not to go. Start smaller than feels necessary.

A weekly rhythm builds habit faster than monthly, while staying sustainable.

If you’re going through a hard period, reduce the intensity — run or work at 30–50% — rather than stopping altogether. Keeping the rhythm, even lightly, is worth more than the perfect session you didn’t do.

The point is to be curious about how you can design your life more ergonomically — rather than erroneously concluding that you and your new aspiration simply aren’t meant for each other.

Your turn — one decision

Where in your life right now is there a decision you’ve been circling — something you keep renegotiating with yourself, week after week?

Pick one area. Apply the formula:

What — when — for how long.
Set a review date.
Then leave it alone until that date arrives.

You might be surprised how much quieter things get — and how much of that energy was available for something else all along.