Two weeks ago, I decided to stop checking my cell phone when I take our dog on his afternoon walk.

This should not have been difficult. Our walk lasts 45 minutes at most, and it takes us through a park with a lovely public garden and a river view. Also, there is absolutely nothing in the world I must currently monitor on a minute-by-minute basis. Yet on at least six occasions these past two weeks, I have reached into my pocket and grabbed ahold of my phone in preparation of checking … something. Twice I’ve removed the phone from my pocket and gotten it to waist level before realizing what I was doing and sliding the phone back into my pocket.

It’s instinctual at this point, maybe even compulsive, and any time there is an idle moment, I seek to fill it by checking my email or getting a quick hit of Twitter.

I used to blame this on my job. I worked in sports media for more than 20 years, and I was responsible for harvesting information, analyzing it, and then presenting it in the most compelling way I could. First, I did this as a newspaper reporter and later as a radio host. I needed to stay on top of things. I had people I needed to talk to, phone calls I hoped would be returned. Keeping constant tabs on what people were saying was the responsible and ambitious thing to do. But I left my job as a radio host at 710 ESPN Seattle in September 2021. I no longer have those daily demands, and yet I remain as online as ever, and the fact that it is even slightly difficult to stop this behavior is alarming to me.

I have always understood that technology changed the way I did my job. What I never really considered was the degree to which it might be changing me. I have become so accustomed to getting a constant stream of updates and opinions that I not only expect it, but I also get antsy if I’m disconnected from that flow of information. This feeling has persisted in spite of my stated desire to get a little distance, so this year, and as I prepare to turn 50, I have decided to see if I can get some of the toothpaste back into the tube by trying to exercise more control over what I pay attention to.

This started — as it often does for me — with a book: Stolen Focus by Johann Hari, which starts by looking at the measurable decline in attention span that social scientists have found as the world has become increasingly digital and interconnected.

Then came Deep Work by Cal Newport — a Georgetown professor — who shows the cost of online engagement by focusing on the benefits of concentrating on complicated tasks deeply and without distraction. Currently, I’m reading Jenny Odell’s book, How To Do Nothing, which — somewhat ironically — lays out a plan of action for disengaging from what we now call the attention economy.

I realize that I am swimming upstream here. In some ways, this may even be counterproductive given that I’m trying to forge a path as an independent content creator. The internet is the best (and by far the cheapest) way to distribute this content whether it’s the newsletter I publish several times a week, the podcasts I’m part of, or the book that I’m working on about how I got over what was a life-defining grudge I held against my stepfather. However, while I want to use the tools that modern technology has provided me, I want to be mindful of the ways in which these tools that I initially welcomed as game-changing improvements in my profession wound up extracting a cost that I’m only now beginning to understand.

When I got my first cell phone, it felt like freedom. This was back in 1999. I was 24-years old and in my first year as a fulltime sports reporter at The Seattle Times. Having a phone I could carry in my pocket meant that I no longer had to remain tethered to my desk for fear that I’d miss a call.

In that way, it made me much better at my job. I was able to accumulate more information because I was never out of reach. If something happened, I was able to find out quickly whether it was an editor calling me. My sources had cell phones, too, which meant I was able to talk to them, and eventually send text messages. This increased efficiency is presented as a benefit of technology, and it certainly allowed me to do more reporting.

It did not, however, end up saving me time. In fact, it dramatically expanded the amount of time that my job consumed. Both sources and editors could call at any time of the day, and while I could have been better about setting limits, there was also an increasing expectation of availability. My workday didn’t end as much as I just decided to stop paying attention or go to sleep. Not only that, but also the shift to a digital news product meant that the idea of a deadline became somewhat outdated because you can always post your newest information to the internet. Before you knew it, your phone could access the internet, and the newspaper was just one of several platforms where reporters were expected to publish their updates, analyses, and opinions.

Did technology make me better at my job? Sure. It also dramatically expanded what my job asked of me both in terms of the amount of work I produced and the expectations on when I would be available. This is an observation, not a complaint. I wasn’t tricked into doing this job, and I remain grateful for the opportunities I have received to observe, write, and talk about sports. I have learned a lot not just about this industry but about people, and this includes myself.

I have also learned that the desire for more information is not something that will ever be satisfied. In fact, I believe that providing more information only increases the appetite both for those who consuming that information as well as those providing it. I have not seen any evidence that getting more information increases the happiness or satisfaction of anyone. We’re all just racing to scratch an itch that is becoming more irritated with every touch, and even when we understand this, we keep reaching into our pocket to grab the phone so we can see what else has happened.

I look at my phone more than is necessary and — more important — more often than I think is healthy. When I’m watching a game, I often find myself opening up Twitter to see what other people are saying about it. This strikes me as slightly insane because the comments on one screen are distracting me from watching what is happening on the other screen. I’ve decided it’s all too much. I want to focus more on the world that is in front of and around me as opposed to the one that’s distilled into an image of pixels that I’m viewing on my phone.

So, I’m walking my dog without checking my phone. At least I’m trying to, taking it one step at a time.