The Potential Conundrum

As employees, parents, athletes, friends, artists, investors, people, how do we know if we’re performing to our potential? More specifically, how do you know what your potential is as a runner or how do I know what my potential is as a writer? How do we know if we’re seriously underachieving or maximizing our potential?

Self-understanding is obviously a big help. The introspective person who knows herself well definitely has a headstart on the non-introspective person. But we can’t objectively assess our potential without other’s thoughtful input. Given that, we should be providing more feedback to one another. Me to you, “You’re really good at ‘x’. Maybe if you did ‘y’, you could accomplish ‘z’.” You to me, “You have a talent for y, if you applied yourself even more you could probably do x.”

The problem though is no one likes to receive unsolicited advice. So where does that leave us? Waiting for one another to ask for input. To a co-worker, “What do I do particularly well? What are some specific things I could improve upon?” To a fellow athlete, “What do you perceive to be my strengths? Where could I improve the most?” To a spouse, Tiger to Elin for example, “What do I do especially well? What are some specific things I could improve upon?”

The problem with that though is we’re insecure, afraid that our weaknesses outweigh our strengths. Consequently, we don’t seek outside opinions. Our own are negative enough.

In the end, I’m too insecure to seek objective feedback from those who know me well; as a result, I’m unsure of my potential in any given context, so it’s anyone’s guess whether I’m underachieving, maximizing my potential, or something in between.

Wealth Happiness Ratio

Interesting human interest article in the Wall Street Journal earlier this week about people struggling with their return to work. Largely focused on one man who took advantage of being laid off to connect with his two youngish sons in ways he never had before. A week at a special father-son camp, informal basketball games before dinner, etc. Over the six-nine months he was unemployed, he also began exercising and lost 25 pounds. Now he’s taken a time consuming job and is ambivalent about the loss of family and personal time. He said he gets home at 6:15 and the kid’s evening routine consists of dinner, homework, and bed. And so far he’s gained back 15 of the 25 pounds.

I’m giving the author of the article a “B”  because it was incomplete. Ironic that a journalist writing for the nation’s biz paper wouldn’t explore how the family might reduce their overhead in order to enjoy better balance. My guess is that man’s family, like all families I suppose, could cut expenses in myriad ways. For example, I couldn’t help but wonder how long his commute is and whether he could reduce it by moving closer to work. If I had to cut expenses in order to strike a better work-life balance one of the first things I’d do is try to move within bicycling distance of my work. Then there’s the “new necessities”, cell phones, cable television, expensive lattes in the Pacific Northwest, that few people think about in the context of how many work hours each requires. A related example that I always find odd, the triathlete with an expensive coach who complains about too little time to train.

It’s as if all of us are on a materialistic treadmill that impairs our ability to logically think through the time/material possession trade-off. I can’t downsize my life when the people on the treadmill to the right and left of me are seemingly living larger and larger. Of course their debt, like their treadmill, isn’t visible either.

Why don’t more people question “the wealthier the happier” assumption that powers the materialistic treadmill? Few of us can practice conspicuous consumption and also carve out the necessary time to enjoy close interpersonal relations with family and friends. Not everyone chooses conspicuous consumption, but most do it seems.

Why is that?

Ideologues

I have some close friends whose politics are almost the complete opposite of mine. Our friendships endure because their personal attributes trump their whacked out politics :). Occasionally, one likes to send me ultra conservative mass emails “just to keep you up to date on what we crazy right-wingers are passing around these days to keep our morale up.”

Sunday’s was a video mocking how successful Barack Obama has been considering he graduated from a “community organizer community college”. Occasionally, I’ll crack a smile. They’re rarely good, but this one was particularly bad.

For satire or comedy to work, there has to be an element of truth in it. President Obama has an impressive education history that I suspect some of my friends on the right would wrongly attribute to affirmative action.

Much of the credit probably goes to his no-nonsense mother who demanded excellence. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, and the President and his wife, whose parents were equally demanding apparently, are holding their daughters to the same high standards. The right won’t acknowledge this, but the President hasn’t used race as an excuse for not achieving. What’s more traditional and conservative than two married parents holding their daughters to very high educational expectations? The power of their personal and parenting examples seem lost on the right.

I don’t know, but my guess is my conservative friends can’t bring themselves to acknowledge that Obama’s well-educated and a committed and caring parent because it doesn’t fit into their intensely negative narrative they’ve crafted. Acknowledging these points might lead to a slippery slope of having to concede other things that might compromise their conservative street cred. Short of eliminating taxes, privatizing everything, and doubling the size of the military, there’s nothing Obama can say or do over the next 2.5 or 6.5 years to change their negative opinions.

For someone who sees subtleties, nuance, and ambiguity around every corner, this is exasperating, but I have to concede that for every right-wing ideologue, there’s a left-wing one somewhere that, because of their passionate dislike of his policies, never could bring themself to acknowledge George Bush the man had redeemable qualities.

Somewhat related to this, can’t help but notice an increasing percentage of lefties are becoming disillusioned with the President. He’s brought some of it upon himself by raising expectations so fast on so many fronts. Take all the references to a “post-partisan era” as just one example. And there’s some truth in the overarching criticism that too often he acts as if he’s still in campaign-mode, trying hard not to offend instead of leading boldly. And I still wish he’d narrow his focus.

Our collective expectations for our presidents are probably too high. Maybe our problems have become too complex and our politics too corrupted by special interest money for any president to achieve Lincoln or FDR-like greatness anymore. Maybe we’d be better off pursing personal excellence closer to home, in the ways we listen, parent, educate, care for other others, work, and conduct our lives more generally.

Ambition Reconsidered

Unfortunately, I seem to need a steady stream of reminders that life is fragile. I want to live fully conscious of my mortality to avoid taking my health, my wife, my daughters, my extended family, my friends, my work, and nature for granted. It’s a work in progress.

This week I received a postcard with information about my 30 year high school reunion (insert joke here). A few minutes later I had created a minimalist profile and was catching up with classmates via their profiles. Eight classmates have died, two that I knew. Had I been thinking like a mathematician, that wouldn’t have been too surprising, but I wasn’t, so it was.

Equally poignant, an older neighbor-friend died suddenly in his sleep a few weeks ago. Bill was a hardcore cyclist who rode year round no matter how shitty the Pacific Northwest weather. Tough as nails, he conquered RAMROD twice by himself. He wasn’t fast, but everything is relative. His memorial was Saturday at Olympia Country Club. I was the second or third person to sign a poster his widower had laid out on a table surrounded by touching family pictures. Not sure what to write, I peeked at what the elderly gentleman that went right before me wrote. “Bill, you don’t have to go at my pace anymore. You were a good friend that always understood me.”

I think that was and is moving.

In Sunday’s sermon, Pastor John touched upon what he referred to as our society’s three “A’s”, affluence, appearance, and ambition. Maybe ambition gets a bad rap. At the memorial I joked to L and J that when I go they’ll have the same RAMROD t-shirts hanging from my memorial table. My ambition is for some friends to be there and for them to say I was a good friend.

In Defense of Eavesdropping

I can’t help myself.

If I’m waiting for an airplane, eating at a restaurant, walking out of a movie, setting up at a triathlon, I tend to listen in to other people’s conversations going on around me. Awhile ago, when eating out, my better half “caught me” smiling at someone else’s conversation and shot me her elementary teacher “disappointed in you” look. I suspect she would prefer it if I focused lovingly on her eyes all the time, waiting patiently for whenever whatever is communicated. 

But her disapproval is misguided because eavesdropping is a form of curiosity, a positive attribute. 

Admittedly, one’s curiosity in the form of eavesdropping can take publicly acceptable and unacceptable forms. I don’t sneak onto the phone as family members are taking calls, I don’t sneak into their email accounts, and I don’t move closer to you at the airport or in the restaurant so that I can hear your conversation. 

One reason I don’t do those things is I don’t have to. To generalize, relative to many other people around the world, Americans are loud, so a lot of times people consciously make their conversations public. I trust you’ve met Loud Cellphone Person once or twice. “I’M DOWN AT THE GATE! Pause. WHEAT! ONION! GREEN PEPPER! BUT NOT TOASTED!” I’m not as fond of eavesdropping on LCP because 1) the content is usually inane and 2) I don’t like having to imagine what LCP’s friend is contributing to the conversation. It’s like watching Serena hit the ball without Venus on the other side.

Listening to talk radio is a form of eavesdropping. Reading is a form of eavesdropping on other people in other places and other times. When we go to a theater, pay $10 to see a film, we sit down with a hundred other people and in essence say, “Let’s all eavesdrop together, shall we?” Why is listening to the radio, reading and watching film, all windows of sorts into other people’s lives, perfectly okay, but listening into a conversation in the chairs, booth, lobby, or bike rack next to me is not? I don’t think all the people on the radio, in print, and on film have given their implied consent.

When I listen in to what other people are saying, and by extension thinking, I’m expanding my perspective on the different ways people interpret their surrounding and make sense of the world. It’s a natural activity of a social being. 

All of us do it, in different forms and to different degrees.

I’m okay, you’re okay.

Whither Fitness Friday?

Here’s the “Fitness Friday” dilemma. Of course I love the alliteration, but dislike the five day delay it requires. And yes, I HAVE to start the week with Monday. So I’m planning on posting updates of the previous week on Mondays thus necessitating a name change. If I call it “The Week that Was” can I get half alliteration credit? Twelve day update on Monday. 

 

In the meantime, let me provide a more qualitative update on the September 12th Cutter Battle Royale. Most people mistakenly think the sport of triathlon involves three race segments, but in actually there are six: 1) the swim leg; 2) the swim to bike transition; 3) the bike leg; 4) the bike to run transition; 5) the run leg; and 6) the trash talking. 

I’ve been neglecting the sixth segment.

Here’s Lance’s view of me at the finish line.

 

I've fallen and I can't get up

"Ron, I'm sorry I called you old. Please take your foot off my chest. You da' man."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I’m rounding in to good swimming, cycling, and running shape, but I’m worried about one substantive psychological hurdle. Lance has three of the cutest, nicest kids in todo del mundo and I know he’s going to position them along the last miles of the 35 mile course. It’s one thing to ignore that wimp ass voice that says, “You can’t keep running this fast. Your heart rate is too high. Slow down.” But it’s another thing altogether to ignore this one, “How can you break these kids hearts? How can you knock Lance off the pedestal his kids have him on. You’re the lowest form of life.” 

So my mental imaging recently has focused on his son and daughters in tears as I do my Usain Bolt-imitation over the last mile. As a result, I’m slowly getting comfortable with the reality that they will never look at their daddy with the same innocent awe.

Also, since Lance is a trooper, I feel I should make it known that I will be packing heat as well. Here’s my weapon of choice.

When I pass you the picture will be much more blurry

When I pass you the picture will be much more blurry

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I know what you’re thinking. That bike isn’t set up for triathlon. Where are the aero-bars, the disk wheel, the bling? My admittedly low-tech approach is my way of leveling the field and making the race more fair.

Here are some of my tools of the trade.

Tools of the trade

Tools of the trade

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

If I didn’t have a few syllabi to finish, I’d continue going Gary Payton on Lance, but I don’t want to run the risk of Lance deciding not to show up at the show down.

CA Vacation by the Numbers

Pac Northwesterners Loading Up on Vitamin D

Pac Northwesterners Loading Up on Vitamin D

9:  Chickens in Dave’s and Joy’s Santa Barbara backyard.

500: Days of Summer from the film we saw.

50: Meters of the San Luis Obispo (or SLO if you’re cool) outdoor pool we swam in.

25: Yards across said Olympic pool since it was set up for short course.

35: Times I used my new tiny neoprene camera case with a velcro belt loop as a pretend cell phone.

35: Times I embarrassed my daughters talking really loudly into new “cell phone”.

125: Times I said “tru dat” to emphasize the absolute veracity of something.

9: Hours slept per day.

-1: My score relative to par for six holes on Wednesday (a bird and five pars).

Horsing Around the Pismo Beach Dunes

Horsing Around the Pismo Beach Dunes

1: Time 17 showed me around Facebook.

4: Extra miles run (and walked) in the hills after missing a turn.

5: Pieces of fruit eaten per day.

1: Time I stole a Harry Potter novel from 17 while staging a Pothead intervention.

164: Feet of elevation in about .25 miles on Equestrian Drive.

0: Times sleeping daughters requested a follow up guitar-based wake up song.

Lance's Worst Dream—Swimming on Vacation. . . Tru Dat!

Lance's Worst Dream—Swimming on Vacation. . . Tru Dat!

Who Are You?

Social gathering with ten people, eight know one another, two don’t. You’re one of the eight. Do you 1) talk exclusively with the other seven “insiders” without even really recognizing the two new people? 2) talk exclusively with the other seven insiders while conscious of the two disconnected people (who haven’t found each other)? 3) socialize mostly with the other seven outsiders, but at some point, briefly introduce yourself to one or both of the newbies? 4) realize early on that two people are new and consciously choose to spend the bulk of the time getting to know one or both.

I believe most people are predisposed to be 1’s or 2’s. I’m a 2 sometimes and a 3 others. My better half is a full-on 4 and that’s one of the things that I love about her.

Game On

This email just in from Lance.

Okay, game on, old man.  I figure it is only fair to give you fair warning that I am coming after you at Black Hills this year.  Beginning today I am laser-focused on the next five weeks of training with the sole intent of besting you by at least one second on September 12.  Don’t let my five mile, 40+ minute run this morning fool ya’; I’m registered and all in, baby.  This is it; the Cutter battle royale that everyone has been waiting for.  My youth, good looks, and smarts vs. your old age…No Excuses!

Remember the recent RAMROD Blues post where I wrote about giving up my active life for a sedentary one. Forget it. Game on now. How many times can a guy take being called “old” in one email?

In actuality, Lance is younger, better looking, and smarter than me, and I’m spending a week in California without my bike right in the middle of the five week-build. The Vegas oddsmakers will no doubt favor Lance, but I’m wiley, and I intend on making him earn the victory.

RAMROD Blues

This just in. Michael Phelps wrote me and said he doesn’t find me that interesting either so I guess we’re even. 

For the last three years, on the last Thursday of July, I’ve ridden my bike around Mount Rainier with 799 other gluttons for punishment. 152-154 miles and 10,000 feet of climbing fun. I just learned that this year I will be on the outside looking in since I will not make it off the waitlist. I’ve spent the last couple months impressively working my way through the waitlist peloton, but I simply started too far back.

Now I don’t know what the purpose of going on with cycling and even running and swimming is. I’m not entirely sure yet, but I suppose life is still worth living. If you’re wondering why don’t I do a personal version of RAMROD, it just wouldn’t be the same without Travis and Dave, the unrivaled scenery, and the Crystal Mountain sandwich food stop. 

That giant sucking sound you hear is my motivation to go long. In fact, why ride at all, why run, why swim, why move from the couch? I think I’ll just sleep in, stay in bed, eat, and smoke cigars. I’ll sell my bike on craigslist and use the proceeds to buy new pants and belts. It’s a nice carbon frame, 60cm, with Dura-Ace 7800 components. I’m now accepting offers. I also have a few pair of size 11 Mizuno Wave Creation running shoes still in the box,  some new goggles, a pair of zoomers, paddles, jammers, a gym bag, a Masterlock, some Infinit mix, a YMCA card, and wife who probably won’t have much interest in me in a few months.

Then again, there will be more of me to love. 

Take a good look at this picture of me at the Pre-Classic in June because the next time Dano snaps my picture, he’ll need a wide-angle lens.

The "Before" Picture

"Before"