Lesson to Self #8: Learn to be trustwilling

As I was in the middle of a weight training session I listened to a podcast named Wild Ideas Worth Living.  As Erik Weihenmayer was interviewed, it was impossible to be amazed at his feats: climbing Mt. Everest, reaching the peaks of the tallest mountain on each continent, paddling through the Grand Canyon, ice climbing—and so much more. But here’s the thing. Erik is blind. Not visually impaired but blind. Like he sees nothing. Nada. Just blackness.

Whoa! How in the world does he do this? He has developed echolocation strategies to help him leap across deep crevasses. His fingers and feet help him identify holds as he ascends rock faces. And he listens intently—and follows—the instructions and cues given by his companions. In fact, he said “Yeah, one of the weird, hidden gifts of blindness is that you have to trust people to get things done. I will tell you straight up, blind people, as far as I know, do not climb mountains, do not climb Everest or kayak the Grand Canyon alone. Maybe I’ll be proven wrong someday, but to get big things done, you need this wonderful team.”

I submit to you the truth of that statement, blind or not. My tendency is to do things myself because it’s often easier than depending on someone else. It’s hard for those of us who like to lead, who like to do, who like to accomplish to put our fate into the hands of another. So, we push on alone to face challenges and struggle through difficulties. And yet, we miss the beauty of camaraderie and striving together. Hence, the contributions, strengths, and growth of potential teammates becomes irrelevant because we shut them out in deference to our own need to check off another box for ourselves. This is a tragic, missed opportunity.

Granted, it is very difficult to transfer trust to another when our self-reliance supersedes our desire to facilitate collaboration and cooperation. And yet, how successful would we be without this community regardless of venue? There is a reason why the most successful athletic teams display healthy doses of trust and dependence on one another. The most efficient business endeavors are marked by teams that share and optimize talent for the good of the whole. And even in the whelm of faith, meeting together with fellow Believers for support and encouragement is prioritized.

So here is the question. How can I develop trustwillingness today? It might be as simple as extending that courtesy to my own family. What about you?
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See prior posts for Lessons 1-7

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Lesson to Self #7: Be patient

Years ago when I was working as a perfusionist, I heard the operating room manager belt over the intercom, “I want patients and I want them NOW!” Those of us who heard her cries for quick and efficient patient transport to the OR stopped dead in our tracks. We had never heard this women exhibit such animated frustration before. But then, after a moment of astonishment, we all broke out in raucous laughter at the obvious but unintentional play on words. She was certainly not exhibiting much patience while waiting for patients.

Patience is hard. Who likes to waste a lot of time waiting around for something to happen? Absolutely no one.

But is the time spent waiting actually a waste? Even though it may feel that way, I propose there may be value in the wait.

I wrote about developing more resilience in Lesson 5 of this series. There, I shared about my mysterious injury to my right leg that came out of nowhere on Jan 12, 2025. Well, here I am, two weeks out from my steroid injection in my knee and no closer than I was to be-bopping merrily along country roads and mountain trails. I have increased my distance and effort level in the pool, have been diligent in the weight room, and tolerate the pain as best I can when I try long walks to gain time on feet. Still, I await the day when I can get back to running.

I am frustrated, no doubt, at my inability to run. And with my next doctor’s appointment two weeks in the future before a tentative diagnosis can be posited, I have no other choice but to carry on with alternate training—and learn to develop a healthy dose of patience.

Easier said than done, right? Right. But I have been trying to use those many hours in the pool staring down at the black tile line to re-imagine time spent in pursuit of fitness. Perhaps in the long run (no pun intended) it will prove beneficial to have had this period of non-running. Maybe all this swimming and strength training will give me a body less prone to injury in the future. Maybe I can learn to feel just as free in the pool as I do blazing down a mountain trail. And maybe, just maybe, my mind and desire to compete will hit the reset button to return intact and stronger at the conclusion of this present setback.

Can I predict how or when I will return to running? Nope. But in the meantime, to paraphrase that OR manager, “I want patience and I want it now!” Therefore, I can intentionally change my perspective from something negative to something positive. I can appreciate the benefits of a change-up rather than bemoan the temporary loss of a 35-year habit. And, I can be thankful for the circumstances that help me become more patient.

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See prior posts for lessons 1-6

Please message me if I can provide value to your team or organization by helping you think deeply about these character skills that drive performance. hashtag#betterpeoplemakebetteranythings

Lesson to Self #6: Accountability

My 10-year old granddaughter is a competitive gymnast. After missing last year’s entire season due to a fracture of her right radius and ulna that required 2 plates and 6 screws to fix, she has been making up for lost time. She has had some stellar performances, earning her podium recognition on every event as well as all-around in every meet this season. But that changed this past Sunday.

Her four routines were solid, scoring between 9.175 and 9.50. Those were not her best performances but they were certainly not poor scores. Admittedly, Addy was not perfect but avoided any major breaks.  Her execution was pretty, making watching her a pleasure. By the time the awards came around, we were pretty sure that the clinking of medals around her neck was sure to follow.

And clink she did, ending up with three shiny medals: beam, bars, and all-around. But for the first time all season, she failed to find a place on the podium in the other two events. Hum. How would she take it?

When I drove her to school on Tuesday morning, we chatted casually about this, that, and the other. When opportunity presented itself, I queried her perspective on the meet. She said nothing about the medals that did not find a place around her neck. Rather, she explained that though her scores were not bad, she failed to score higher because some of the required skills were performed at – not above - the minimal level. (For example, her cast from the high bar met the minimal horizontal standard but her body did not rise above that mark. Her first vault landing included a big step and her block off the platform on the second vault was not what it should have been.) Addy made no excuses, nor did she express jealousy for her teammates who threw down best-ever performances. I was impressed and relieved.

Even at her young age, Addy took accountability for her actions. She clearly understood the reasons for her lower-than-expected scores and missing medals. This honest appraisal allowed her to accept her scores without placing blame on judges or other circumstances. Practice the following day proved very productive because she went into it knowing exactly what needed to be improved.

If a 10-year old can accept accountability for her own actions, we should be so wise.