Most traders think edge lives in the chart.
Patterns, indicators, setups.

But this week reminded me that edge often lives in time.

I’ve been trading Tokyo mornings with smaller probes.

The pattern is clear: the first 90 minutes tell the truth. Moves are clean, the flow is directional. After that, the market slides into chop. Price flicks above and below VWAP, nothing sticks, and the mental cost rises with every candle.

The difference between those two windows isn’t subtle.

In the morning, I can place a trade with structure. Stop above anchor, target at a nearby high. If it works, partials are booked. If it doesn’t, stop gets hit clean and I’m out. By midday, the same logic doesn’t hold. Levels blur. One candle takes back the last three. There’s no reward for discipline, only noise.

It’s tempting to keep pushing. The screen is open, the tools are ready, the itch is there. But edge isn’t available all day. Recognizing when your edge is present and when it’s gone is as much part of the job as entry or exit.

This isn’t just about Tokyo. London opens give similar clarity.

Early, when volume is fresh, the market declares itself. Later, the grind takes over. I’ve learned it’s better to shut the book after the first clean hand than sit through a long, messy game.

The same pattern applies outside trading.

Writers know their sharpest hours.

Runners know when their stride feels easiest.

Builders know the window when focus comes without friction.

That’s where the real work gets done.

The mistake is trying to be “on” all day. Edge doesn’t scale like that. It narrows. It asks for respect.

So this week’s reminder was simple: my edge isn’t just what I trade, it’s when. Tokyo mornings. London opens. That’s my window. My job is to guard it, trade it cleanly, and step aside when it closes.

The rest isn’t wasted time. It’s preserved capital, preserved energy, and preserved clarity.

Because the window is the edge.

Not every trade is meant to be a winner. Some trades are meant to ask a question.

This week reminded me of that.

A few setups looked ready to run, and I stepped in with small size to test the waters. The market’s response wasn’t there. Instead of forcing it, I cut them quickly. On paper, those trades were scratches. In practice, they were wins for discipline.

What a Probe Trade Really Is

A probe trade isn’t about profit. It’s about information.

When I talk about “probes,” I mean the small, deliberate entries I take to see if the market will confirm the bias I see. They’re light, low-risk, and designed to answer a question:

“Is the flow with me, or not?”

If it’s with me, the probe turns into a signal that I can press size when structure lines up.
If it’s not, the cost is minimal — I step aside and reset.

Why They Matter

The obvious reason is risk control. A probe that fails costs next to nothing. But the bigger reason is psychological.

Probes protect mental capital. They stop me from bleeding slowly in chop. They keep me from turning stubborn when the market isn’t ready. They act as a buffer between “having a bias” and “betting the farm on it.”

The probe lets me test my read without needing to be right. And that’s a huge difference in trading mindset.

A Week in Reflection

Take this Friday as an example.

Price pushed through a level that often sets off momentum. I took a small long — half of what I’d normally use, because the entry was away from my base. For a few minutes, it looked like it might run. Then it fizzled.

The old me would have held on, hoping it came back. Or worse, doubled down to prove the point. This time, I scratched it at break-even and moved on.

That’s a win. Not because of PnL, but because I executed exactly what a probe is for: I asked the market a question. The answer was no. That was enough.

Letting Probes Fail Quickly

This is the hard part.

A probe isn’t a position you defend. It’s not something you justify or fight for. It should either:

• Work quickly and give you confidence, or
• Fail quickly and be scratched.

Anything in between, the waiting, the hoping defeats the purpose. The moment you start treating a probe like a conviction trade, you’ve lost the edge it was meant to give you.

Carrying the Lesson Forward

What I carry from this week is simple: probes are discipline in action.

They don’t exist to make money. They exist to keep me aligned with the market without bleeding, without tilt, and without ego. They’re a filter that stops me from turning every bias into a big bet.

Over time, the ability to separate probes from production trades is what creates consistency. The probe asks the question. The production trade presses the answer.

Closing Reflection

A probe is just a question to the market. Sometimes the answer is yes. Sometimes the answer is no. Either way, you’re further ahead than you were before you asked.

And in trading, progress often looks like restraint.

Have a good weekend,

Gav