Wednesday, January 2, 2013

The Power of Under-Thinking

I've heard that each of us builds the largest barriers to our own successes.  In essence, we don't usually have to wait for other people to stand in our way, because we're too busy making our own lives harder than they have to be.  I would guess that sometimes this is simply the result of leading busy lives and not necessarily making time or space for those things we should value more than we do.  But, more insidious, is the times when we put up our own walls to protect us from things we perceive may make us look silly, may hurt us, may embarrass us, or may simply be hard to accomplish. 

An example to illustrate this from the second lap of our South Carolina Mudder.  We managed to make the final start time, and were actually able to keep up with the group (give or take).  The amazing thing, though, was that the starter pointed us out as making a go at a second lap, which seemed to give us a certain reputation within that group.  Whether they thought we were insane or truly bad-ass is debatable, but it definitely made it easier for us to chat with the folks around us.  We ended up talking with a young married couple who were doing their first mudder together (short aside - my wife would NEVER run a mudder with me).  The guy was a pretty big dude who was a gunner in the military, and his wife was a petite, but fit housewife/mother.  It was clear that they were having a good time, but that it wasn't exactly a walk in the park.  We would pass them on occasion, and they would pass us at other times.  One of the places where we crossed paths was at Walk The Plank.  To give an idea of what Walk The Plank is, take a look at this video (watch for Brian doing a backflip):
 
We climbed up to get to the platform and found the young couple at the top.  The wife was in obvious distress, and wanted nothing to do with jumping from the platform. We told her it would be okay, and that it really was just a quick step off into the pool waiting below.  The water would be cold, we knew, but it was plenty deep enough to ensure she wouldn't hit bottom.  And, if she had problems with swimming, there were folks down there that could help her.  None of these things were the problem, though...rather, she was afraid of the height.  Every effort to provide rational reasons why she would be okay were rebuffed because she wasn't acting rationally at the time (fear causes this, I know).  The husband was gently trying to cajole her into jumping, but wasn't having much luck.  Understanding that this wasn't our fight, the three of us did what we could - we jumped off to, hopefully, show her that she'd be okay.  We swam to the other side, got out, gave a quick look, and ran off without giving it much more thought.  She was either going to jump, be pushed, or skip the obstacle, and we'd no doubt hear about whatever happened when they passed us again, which, eventually they did.  We asked how it had gone, and she told us that her husband ended up having to push her in - and she was NOT happy about that.  We asked if it was as bad as she thought it would be, fully expecting her to say "not really", but she actually said that it was every bit as bad as she expected.

As I reflected on this, I realized that one of Brian's, Danny's and my own strengths is that we don't seem to overthink the obstacles that come our way.  It's easy to stand on the lip of Arctic Enema, knowing how cold it will be, and freeze up at the prospect of even trying it.  It's very easy to stand on a platform 20 feet above the water and think about how scary it is to fall, and that realization makes you stand and stare at the water below.  In every case, the more time you spend thinking about the possible consequences, the more likely you are to give into the fear that holds you back.  After all, if we're honest, it's not like we're standing on the platform thinking about the positive outcomes...we spend way to much of our time thinking of all of the scary things that could happen.

I had a similar experience when I was younger.  My friends and I had gone to an overhang at the oceanfront near where we lived.  It was about the same height, but required a jump into the water below.  I successfully jumped a few times, but, the final time I was standing on the cusp I started thinking about how stupid it was to jump into the ocean from that distance and how I might hit the rocks on the way down.  I froze for what seemed like minutes, but eventually jumped.  It was the most liberating fall, because I realized that those things weren't really what was holding me back.  I was holding myself back by overthinking the situation.  So now, whenever I'm approaching Arctic Enema, I consciously decide to jump in as quickly as I can.  Ironically, it's the easiest way to not freeze when confronted with a dumpster full of ice-water.

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