My dad is 80 years old now. As a private practice pediatrician, he worked incredibly hard. He often saw 50 patients a day, took night call, and got out of bed in the middle of the night to attend C-section deliveries.

He also took every Wednesday off.

At the time, I never appreciated how unusual that was.

Now, nearly two decades into my career as a gastroenterologist, I’ve worked in academic medicine, private practice, and as an employed physician. I’ve never had a scheduled day off during the workweek. A quick poll of my mid-career colleagues revealed a similar story. Those fortunate enough to reduce their clinical hours often spend their “free” time catching up on charts and inbox messages — tasks my father never had to contend with on his Wednesdays away from the office.

Somewhere along the way, medicine lost the idea that regular, intentional breaks are part of a sustainable career.

Research on microbreaks — short, frequent periods away from work — suggests they improve energy, creativity, and well-being. Long vacations are valuable but infrequent, difficult to schedule, and often come with their own stresses. A one- or two-day microretreat, on the other hand, can be surprisingly restorative.

A microretreat doesn’t require a flight to Aruba. It can be as simple as spending a night at a nearby hotel, hiking a new trail, taking a photography class, learning to play an instrument, or immersing yourself in any activity that demands your full attention.

The common thread is that these activities promote what psychologist Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi called flow — that deeply satisfying state of complete engagement in a meaningful challenge. We’ve all experienced it. Hours seem to disappear while we’re running, painting, woodworking, gardening, learning a language, or tackling a project that stretches our abilities just beyond our comfort zone.

Flow isn’t simply enjoyable. It has measurable benefits for mood, cognition, and psychological well-being. More importantly, it offers a striking contrast to the way many physicians spend their workdays.

Medicine has become a profession defined by task-switching.

A typical day might look like this:

Patient visit → inbox message → documentation → laboratory review → insurance appeal → staff meeting.

Repeat.

Psychologists refer to the mental cost of constantly changing tasks as “switch costs.” Each interruption reduces efficiency while increasing cognitive fatigue and stress. Modern medicine asks physicians to spend much of the day bouncing between unrelated activities, making sustained concentration — and the satisfaction that comes with it — increasingly rare.

Medicine has become a high task-switch, low-flow profession.

Ironically, some of my happiest years in medicine were also among the hardest. During residency, I routinely worked 80-hour weeks with little sleep. Yet I rarely felt burned out. Looking back, I suspect it was because every day presented new challenges. Morning report, bedside teaching, and difficult clinical decisions demanded complete engagement. I was constantly learning.

Flow requires challenge. As our skills improve, the challenge must evolve. Think of trying to learn a new language, how to play a musical instrument, or trying your hand at gardening. These tasks require focus and attention.

That may explain why surgeons often describe losing track of time during a complex operation. Three hours in the OR can feel like 30 minutes. Yet even for those fortunate enough to experience flow at work, it can vanish with a single inbox notification, contentious patient interaction, or unnecessary meeting.

Think about the last time you were “in the zone.” Chances are it wasn’t at work. Perhaps you were jogging, painting, playing an instrument, or even trying to fix your sump pump based on a YouTube video (while the flow state was nice, I should’ve just called a plumber). Now wouldn’t it be nice to have regularly scheduled times to pursue these activities?

Can vacations solve burnout? Perhaps — but only partially. Longer vacations are difficult for many physicians with busy practices and family responsibilities. Even when we do take them, research suggests it takes about a week before we truly relax, and many of the psychological benefits fade quickly after returning to work.

Perhaps we’ve been overlooking a simpler solution.

Regularly scheduled microretreats give us repeated opportunities to disconnect from the constant demands of clinical practice and reconnect with activities that challenge and restore us. Microretreats are most effective when they a) occur in a different setting than our usual day-to-day activities and b) involve a cognitive or physical challenge that we enjoy.

Equally important, we should strive to create more opportunities for flow during the workday itself. AI-assisted documentation, better inbox support, and team-based care can reduce unnecessary task-switching and allow physicians to focus on the aspects of medicine that first drew us to the profession.

My father’s generation certainly worked hard. But they also seemed to understand that longevity required regular time away from work — not after years of exhaustion, but on a regular, frequent basis.

Maybe they were onto something.

A change of scenery, even for a day, can help us reconnect with curiosity, creativity, and purpose. Those aren’t luxuries. They’re essential ingredients for a long and fulfilling career in medicine.

Do you incorporate microbreaks into your schedule? Share in the comments.