BEATING THE HILL, EMBRACING THE WIND

I was laid off from my job – caught in the proverbial “reduction in force” or “RIF”. Because I’ve chosen to follow the “start-up trail”, this is nothing new to me. I’d worked at six start-ups in a row, including my own business. So the experience of being either “RIF-ed” or fired was, unfortunately, something I had known.

I tend to think of myself as a flexible, resilient, adaptable kind of guy with a very positive outlook on life. I’ve survived inju-ries, tumor, heart attack, business stress, relationship chal-lenges, family issues, and so on. And every time I’ve come up with a smile and a good attitude. So I expected no less of my-self this time, terrible economy and depressed job market not-withstanding.

Imagine my (unpleasant) surprise when I found myself strug-gling – both professional and emotionally – to deal with my un-employment!

“I’ve done this before,” I said to myself.

“I know what to do,” I said to myself.

So why was I not doing it? Why was I finding myself waking up anxious or discouraged? Why wasn’t I employed yet?
If you’ve been in this situation, you can probably guess at my feelings. And perhaps you’ve felt those feelings yourself. Far too many of us have, these days.

This persisted for several months. So now I’d added to the dis-couragement of being unemployed the frustration of not being successful about changing my situation and my attitude. Bummer!

One Sunday morning, I was riding my bicycle through the neighborhood. I try to get out on my bike at least three times a week for the cardiovascular workout, if nothing else. I’ve got my usual route through the neighborhood, taking advantage of the main street and all the little side streets to make each loop as long as possible.

On this particular Sunday morning, I had made my wait out-bound from home, and was on my way back. There’s one side street that is slightly hilly – lots of little ups and downs along the way. And at the end of this street, there’s a hairpin turn on a short but steep hill. On the way out, this is fun – go as fast as I can around the sharp downhill turn, with the wind in my face and my legs pumping hard to set a new speed record.

On the return trip, this same hill is quite the challenge. The first time I reach it, I’ve normally ridden five or six miles, and just finished the up-and-down stretch I talked about earlier. There’s a dip down to the bottom of the hill, then the climb.
So on this Sunday morning, while I was riding I started think-ing about my employment status and my emotional state and my attitude. The frustration was feeding on itself, since I was frustrated about being unemployed, and I was frustrated with myself for being frustrated, and the frustration was getting in the way of a successful job search! Not a fun time for me, I can assure you.

And as I was riding over the up-and-down section of this street, I realized that that’s how I’d been feeling – short ups and downs for the past few months. Discouragement followed by a short burst of excitement when a lead would materialize. Then back to discouragement when the lead didn’t pan out.

Up and down.

Down and up.

Of course, on my bicycle the up hills – the harder parts – are just a challenge to be attacked and overcome. And that’s how I usually think of myself – attacking and overcoming chal-lenges, whatever they might be. And as I rode my bike up and down that morning, I realized that somehow I’d fallen into some kind of emotional trap. I realized that the uphill climbs – the challenges – had somehow become much bigger in my mind. Each time I reached one of these challenging times, I was allowing myself to become intimidated, overcome, and subdued by the challenge.

Who is that? That’s not me!

As my legs pumped and my lungs drew the air in and pushed it out, a sense of confidence and strength began to return to me. Each little hill, each small challenge overcome, restored a bit more of my sense of self, my feelings of my ability to do whatever needed to be done to meet and beat the challenges of life.

And then I hit that short downhill stretch. It’s that moment of total freedom and effortlessness just before the big climb. It’s that moment when I have to make a choice. Am I going to take it easy and pace myself all the way up? Maybe I’ll stop along the way to catch my breath and ease my legs. There’s no rush, really. I can do this easy if I like.

Or maybe I’ll go at it, as I do every time, giving it everything I’ve got and beating the hill!

Why do any less than I’m capable of doing? Why take it easy? Why stop along the way?

And I had another realization at that moment. Isn’t that part of the problem I’ve been having? Haven’t I been allowing my-self to attack the hill slowly, resting along the way?

So pumping and puffing my way up that small hill, sucking water from my pack, I attacked. I climbed that hill as though getting to the top in the shortest possible time was the most important thing I would ever do!

And having dealt with the ups-and-downs, and having dealt with the bigger, but never final challenge, I climbed that hill and made that turn.

And now, I’m facing back the way I came, having completed the hill and the hairpin turn. And as there always is at that point, there was a headwind! Sometimes stronger, sometimes weaker, but almost always there – the headwind.
Here I am – I’ve overcome a series of small challenges and a bigger challenge. And just when I thought I was done – just when my legs are burning and my lungs are heaving and I’m ready to drop my head and my arms and give a great sigh – WHEW – there’s the wind.

And I’m faced with decision again. I’m faced with choosing to give in, give up, or attack. Or…

I could do what I almost always do when I finish climbing that hill…

I can sit up straight, throw out my arms, and embrace the wind.

"The reason most people never reach their goals is that they don't define them, or ever seriously consider them as believable or achievable. Winners can tell you where they are going, what they plan to do along the way, and who will be sharing the adventure with them."

Denis Watley

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