There's a study on professional baseball players that changed how I think about new beginnings.
When underperforming players got traded to new teams, their numbers improved. New environment, new teammates, new city — all the things we'd expect a fresh start to do. It worked.
But when players who were already performing well got traded? Their numbers went down.
Same fresh start. Opposite outcomes.
The difference wasn't the trade. It was whether the player had momentum going in.
This finding comes from Katie Milkman's research in her book “How to Change,” and it cuts against something most of us believe at a fairly deep level: that fresh starts are good.
They're not always good. And understanding when they help versus hurt is one of the more useful things you can know heading into any new chapter of life.
The Case for Fresh Starts
Fresh starts work through a mechanism called a “state change” — a shift in how you see yourself and what you think is possible.
This is why January 1st has so much cultural power. Technically it's just the day after December 31st. But psychologically it feels like a different state — a boundary between the old version of you and whoever you want to be in the coming year.
That feeling is real. And Milkman's research shows it produces real behavioral changes. When people in difficult circumstances get a fresh start — a new team, a new city, a new chapter — they often take it as an invitation to try things they'd stopped trying before. The underperforming baseball player who gets traded stops carrying the identity of “someone who's been struggling” and starts fresh.
The state change is the mechanism. The date or event is just the trigger.
This is why major life transitions can be such powerful catalysts for change. Becoming a parent. Starting a new job. Moving to a new city. Graduating. Each one creates a genuine shift in how you see yourself — and that shift can unlock habits, choices, and changes that seemed impossible before the transition.
The Problem Fresh Starts Create
Here's what the baseball data revealed that's harder to talk about.
When things are going well — when you have momentum — disruption doesn't just fail to help. It actively hurts.
The high-performing player who gets traded loses the environment, the routines, and the accumulated context that were making him successful. He has to rebuild from scratch. Not from zero exactly — the skill is still there — but the conditions that were producing results no longer exist.
I experienced a version of this a few years back when I was in a best man role at a close friend's wedding abroad. Being out of my normal environment for an extended period — different time zone, different context, full social schedule — meant my usual morning routine basically stopped existing. And getting back into it afterward took longer than I expected. I hadn't lost the knowledge of how to do the routine. I'd just lost the conditions that made it automatic.
The routine felt optional in a new environment. After a few days of that, it took real effort to reclaim it as non-optional.
The Summer I Didn't Travel
This past summer I made a choice that surprised some people. I didn't travel.
I normally leave Austin for a few weeks during the summer — change of scenery, some kind of trip, something different. But last summer I stayed.
Because I had too much momentum to disrupt.
Things were working in my business. My creative output was high. My routines were solid. I knew, somewhat intuitively at first, that interrupting all of that would cost me more than the break was worth.
I didn't have a name for it at the time. After reading the baseball research, I do: I was protecting momentum, not being boring.
Looking back, no regrets. The summer turned into one of the more productive periods I've had.
Rut or Rhythm?
The most useful question I've found for distinguishing these two situations is: is this a rut, or is it a rhythm?
A rut feels like being stuck. Same patterns, same results, same frustration. Things aren't getting better. Energy is low. Motivation is harder to find. A rut is often a signal that something needs to change — and a fresh start might be exactly what the situation calls for.
A rhythm feels like momentum. Things are moving. Results are accumulating. Habits are running automatically. The right response to a rhythm usually isn't to disrupt it — it's to protect it.
The tricky part is that ruts and rhythms can feel similar from the inside. Both involve doing the same things repeatedly. The difference is in the trajectory and the energy.
A few questions that help me tell them apart:
- Is this pattern producing results, or just busyness?
- Do I feel like things are building, or like I'm treading water?
- If I imagine continuing this for another six months, does that feel exciting or draining?
The answers usually point clearly in one direction.
Designing Fresh Starts When You Need Them
When you are in a rut — when change is genuinely called for — the research suggests that fresh starts work best when they're tied to something meaningful rather than just a date on the calendar.
The Lunar New Year tradition is a good model here. It changes date every year (it's tied to the lunar calendar, not the Gregorian one), but for people who observe it, it carries enormous emotional weight. The tradition of cleaning the house, decluttering, and resetting before the new year is a built-in fresh start ritual that's been practiced for centuries. It works not because of the specific date but because of the meaning attached to it.
You can create this for yourself. A meaningful anniversary. The first day of a season. A date you've decided is significant. The act of labeling a date as important — and building a small ritual around it — creates more psychological traction than January 1st for most people, precisely because it's yours.
Even smaller: a clean desk, a new workspace, a coffee shop you've never been to. Environmental change can produce the same fresh start feeling at a micro level. Five minutes of decluttering your desk before a focused work session works better than most focus hacks because the environment shift changes your state without disrupting your momentum.
The Right Tool for the Right Situation
Fresh starts aren't good or bad. They're a tool.
Like any tool, they're useful when you're using them on the right problem. The baseball player who's underperforming needs the new team to shake him out of a pattern that isn't working. The baseball player who's on a run needs to stay put and keep doing what's building.
The question isn't whether to embrace new beginnings. The question is whether this particular beginning is happening at the right moment — or whether what you actually need is to protect what's already working.
This week's question: When you look honestly at your current work, routines, and projects — are they in a rut, or are they in a rhythm? Your answer will tell you whether to seek a fresh start or protect what you've built.
