Josh Waitzkin, chess prodigy and author of The Art Of Learning, once described a conversation he had with skiing legend Billy Kidd, in which he asked Kidd about the three most important turns on a ski run:

… the three most important turns of the ski run are the last three before you get on the lift. And it’s a subtle point. That’s when the slope is leveled off, there’s less challenge. Most people are very sloppy. They’re taking the weight off the muscles they’ve been using. They have bad form. The problem with that is that on the lift ride up, they’re unconsciously internalizing bad body mechanics. As Billy points out, if your last three turns are precise, you’re internalizing precision on the lift ride up.

And so it goes with flow. When we walk away from our work drained, dazed, and confused, we internalize those feelings. That all-nighter where you worked until you literally couldn’t anymore? It may have yielded production, but the brain drain you felt when you walked away followed you back to your desk the next day.

The bitter gambler will always tell you the same story, “If it wasn’t for that last hand, I’d be rich!” But the gambler who laughs all the way home after doubling her money knows it’s because she walked away before her luck ran out.

Hemingway knew that flow wasn’t a ghost to be strangled to death on every chance encounter. He walked away from his typewriter while he still had gas in the tank and inspiration on his side.

Many artists and entrepreneurs think of beating their head against the wall in search of inspiration as a rite of passage. But Hemingway never allowed those feelings to enter his workspace. He walked away long before those feelings of brain drain could be internalized. This helped him return to his work knowing exactly where to start again.

I always worked until I had something done, and I always stopped when I knew what was going to happen next. That way I could be sure of going on the next day.

—Ernest Hemingway

There is still a strong undercurrent in our society, particularly amongst entrepreneurs, that continues to celebrate and glamorize the grind. Just like with conversations around how much sleep is best to have each night, there is an unspoken competition around who can stay in the pressure cooker, working the longest and the hardest.

But anyone can learn how to outlast the others. The real discipline comes from walking away before you’re cooked. It takes a cool, Hemingway-like confidence to tell the muses, “We’ve worked enough today. I’m sure I’ll see you around tomorrow.”

So the question remains, for athletes, creatives, writers, producers, and thinkers alike: When you find your flow today, will you have the discipline to walk away before it’s all gone?