Tag: learning

No Bad Runs

Posted on by Carl Weber

DSC_0780-L

Running can be hard.

Some runs feel amazing.

Everything clicks, your body responds, and you just go.

Other runs don’t feel so great.

Your legs feel like cement, that weird [knee, foot, ankle, back, thigh, or toe] pain is back, and you struggle.

Sometimes you feel young beyond your years.

Other times you wonder if you are getting too old to run.

Sometimes you get a personal best.

Other times you are afraid to look at the time.

We can be tempted to label these “other” runs.

“Today was a bad run.”

“I can’t believe what a bad run I had today.”

“I have had a bad run three times this week.”

Who said every run would be easy?

Who said we wouldn’t struggle, doubt, or wrestle?

Each run means that you actually went out and ran.

Each run is another run under your belt.

Each run becomes part of your history, your experience, your life.

Each run doesn’t limit the next one.

Some runs feel amazing.

Other runs don’t feel so great.

There are no bad runs.

 

The Decade of Training

Posted on by Carl Weber

Wander Tag(Image Courtesy of Etsy.com)

Through a combination of coaching conversations, and reflections on my own life I have noticed a pattern. Many of us wish we were further along in our lives, careers, or relationships. We speak as if there is some place we should be, but we are behind in the race. We speak with regret and sadness as if we are currently missing out and life would be somehow different.

“I have been in this job for 6 years now and am in a rut and it feels wasted.”

“I didn’t really know what I wanted to do, and moved from job to job and didn’t make progress.”

“School was not a focus for me, and I wasted those years.  Now I have to go back again.”

“Just imagine where I would have been if I didn’t squander those years.”

These conversations made me think of that quote from J.R.R. Tolkien. Maybe it is okay to wander for a little while, because those years are not always lost.

Instead of seeing those years (however long it has been) as a waste, maybe a perspective change would help. Perhaps we could view that time as the Decade of Training.

The Decade of Training helped form who we are today.

The Decade of Training helped us create goals and start to pursue them.

The Decade of Training helped us try different things.

The Decade of Training helped us know that failure is part of the journey.

The Decade of Training helped us learn to get back up and keep moving.

Those years in the Decade of Training are not necessarily lost, unless you give up and assume that it is too late to pursue the goals for your life, career (or second career, or third career), or relationships.

Most of us today will live into our 90s. To put that in perspective, when we reach 60, we will still have 1/3 of our lives ahead of us.

The real question is now that you have been trained, what will you do with it?

“I am good as possible”

Posted on by Carl Weber

I live in New Hampshire. With the exception of my time in the Navy and a few years of grad school, I have lived here my whole life.

Every winter, it snows here…a lot. The world slows down, and we tend to hibernate and stay inside more.

I have a confession: I never learned to ski.

Combine this fact with the fact that I agreed to chaperone my daughter’s ski club helped prompt me to do something that I have been meaning to do for years: learn to ski.

At 44 years old, I decided to stop putting this off and start taking a lesson (the Sunday before a Wednesday ski club). Despite my initial fear, of falling and/or making a fool of myself, the lesson went well and I had enough skills to chaperone. Enough skills to get by. I stared to wonder if I needed additional lessons.

I told this story to a friend. This friend had a story for me. Years ago when their young child was learning to ski, their family would spend days on the slopes. Most of the day was spent in lessons, and occasionally they would “free ski” afterwards. Their child had good skills and some natural talent for skiing and could out-ski most of their peers. The lessons continued.

After lunch, most of the family was going to ski the slopes and the young child had to return to their lesson. The child wanted to ski with the rest of the family, but the lesson continued in the afternoon. A meltdown ensued with this youngster trying to find a reason why they didn’t need to continue the lesson.

“I don’t need another lesson. I am good as possible!” they screamed.

We laughed at the story, but those words remained. “I am good as possible.”

How often do we think we are good enough at something and fail to continue to learn and challenge ourselves? When does “good enough” satisfy us so that we stop refining our skills? Lessons can be boring, especially when compared to skiing down the slopes.

For me, I decided to continue with the lessons. But this story and those words caused me to look to at my own life to see where I have shouted “I am good as possible” instead of realizing that I could improve with just a few more lessons.

Learning to Ski

P.S. For anyone who thinks they are too old, tired, experienced, afraid, (insert word here) to try something new, my instructor told me about a 78 year-old grandfather who decided to learn to snowboard so he could go down the slopes at least once with his grandchildren. And he did!

The “My Way” Blind Spot

Posted on by Carl Weber

We all have blind spots.  You have them, I have them, we all have them.  The hardest part about blind spots is that we do not see them.  I suppose that is why we call them “blind spots.”  When this happens while driving, another car can essentially disappear from view, yet be right beside us. If we turn or change lanes, the damage will be immediate and severe.

When our blind spots are personal, the damage is no less great, but they can occur gradually…almost without our notice.  Until we discover our personal blind spots (typically because someone else points them out) we tend to just plug along not realizing the damage we are causing by this inherent flaw in our perspective.

Recently I discovered that I suffer from the “My Way” blind spot.  This was reluctantly pointed out to me by my team after I wanted a project to be done a certain way.  The banter between them went something like this…

“You mean you wanted it done the “Carl Weber Way?”

“Yeah, it is like Carlito’s Way, only with less violence.”

“Most of the time when you assign a project we will end up doing it your way in the end, even if we have other ideas.”

I was stunned.  I resisted the natural urge to defend myself and just listened.  Arguing about your blind spot is as foolish as turning your car into that crowded lane because you just know there is no car there…while hearing the crash.  Instead I listened.  I really listened.  It became clear that the “My Way” blind spot was real and having an impact on others.  My tendency to delegate without freedom created tension and a lack of trust.  Over time, this can create followers who feel unable to be creative or do things their own way.

Identifying the blind spot was the first step.  The next, and much harder step, is trying to figure out how to change a pattern of behavior that I didn’t know existed.  It will not be easy, but leading well never is.  I will have to check those mirrors a little more often before changing lanes.

What is your blind spot?  Where are you speeding along without seeing what is right beside you?  Are you causing unaware damage?

My advice today is simple: Listen and look.  But be prepared to deal with what you find.