Tonight, I had dinner with a girlfriend. She and her hubby have ridden bikes for pretty much ever. They’d just completed a big trip out west just last summer on his bike. Her husband had wanted her to get her own bike. He thought she would really enjoy the extra freedom it would offer her. It had, understandably, set off a whole string of emotions for her. Her girls were all in various degrees of resistance to the idea which was upsetting to her. Yet, they were all grown and out of the house, now, and she was missing the risk taker side of herself that was set on a shelf while she was raising them.
For me, riding a motorcycle had never even been a thought for my ginormous bucket list. It had just never crossed my radar for some reason. After her trip, my girlfriend had been the one to say to me, “You’ve never really experienced a place in the same way you do as from the back of a bike!” Her words came back to me after my euphoric West Virginia experience.
So, here we were, two girlfriends chatting our heads off over dinner salads, talking about this motorcycling learning/riding adventure I’d been on the past couple of months. She expressed that she’s sure I endowed with super-human abilities and/or an extraordinary amount of courage. From this remark, and our ensuing conversation, I’d had an epiphany – I knew a book had to be written! I needed to convey to her that it’s exactly the opposite, that I’m of average abilities all the way around, but that I’ve worked out an approach to learning new things that has allowed me to progress at a blistering pace.
I explained how I approach all the new things I’d been learning during the past couple of years – the snowboarding, speaking French, motorcycle riding, climbing – that it is an approach, not any sort of special aptitude on my part, that has made me capable of all of these very quickly. I could still see the disbelief. I explained how I do everything slowly, methodically, how I stretch my comfort zone in a comfortably uncomfortable fashion, how I practice each little piece of the skill set until, basically, I’m bored, before moving on.
I heard her fear of being too old, of it taking too long, of not having enough time, of getting hurt. I told her, I have a method that handles all that. I explained how I laid out all the incredibly small, baby steps that I took, and how I gave myself an out at every step along the way. All the self-talk for each tiny step I took towards my goal of riding a bike.
-Can I search online for a motorcycle safety class to take? Yes, and then I can decide this isn’t for me and walk away.
-Can I go sign up for the class, just go over and fill out the paperwork, and hand them a check? Yes. And, if I never show up for class, who cares!
-Can I read the manual that they gave me for the class and fill out the answers to the questions in the booklet? Yes? And, if I never go to the class, what does it matter? Will I have more information to make the decision if I even want to go to class? Yes. Ok, I can do that.
-Can I get the clothes together that I would wear to the class if I do go to the class? Yes. They’re sitting there in a pile, waiting for me to decide if I want to go or not.
-Can I make sure I know where I’d go to take the class if I decide to go? Why, of course! It’s queued up in my Google Maps.
-Can I set my alarm to get up for class tomorrow? Absolutely! And, if you say, “This isn’t for me,” and roll back over and go back to bed, will it be the end of the world? No.
-Can I just drive over and sit in class? You’re very good at taking classes. Yes, I can go sit in a classroom.
-Can I go do the first exercise on the bike with all these other students, some of whom are even older, and look much less athletic, than me? Well, heck, if they can do it, surely, I can do that too. And, I can always walk away at any time, right? Right!
The overarching question was always, “What will I lose, if at any point, I decide this is not for me?” Not much – a little time, effort, cash, maybe a pinch of my pride, but nothing terribly serious.
On and on this went, until here I stand, well, more accurately, ride, still seeking out my next stretch, in order to progress with my riding.
I explained to her the need to “slip under the radar of our own resistance,” to only take such tiny steps forward that you don’t set off your internal resistance.
I watched her bounce back and forth between hopeful, fearful and doubtful.
I articulated that that is normal – to experience a mix of excitement and fear, but that I have a way to circumvent the negative emotions significantly.
I explained to her that she needed to get herself into the competence/confidence loop and that, then, the process becomes self-reinforcing. Because, you take such tiny steps, working below the radar of your own resistance, you have so many more successes to celebrate, it fuels your progress the towards your larger outcome.
I let her in on my little secret -I told her that I had zero, Zero, ZERO confidence in achieving my outcome, but that I did have 100% confidence in the process that I use to get me my outcome, a huge distinction!
We parted for the evening, her still, alternately, shaking her head in disbelief, but more importantly, grinning at the possibility!!
Smarter-Not-Harder U 