I went to a wedding last weekend. It was lovely in every way, which is representative of the sweet bride, my cousin Kristen. Her groom seems like a stellar person too. At the wedding reception I was placed at a table with my brother and sis-in-law, my mama’s cousin and spouse, and a friendly couple close to my aunt and uncle. The husband in this last duo summed up his occupation as a “therapist for executives.” He drilled me with unconventional, probing questions that left my brain aching. I’m not used to plunging right into deep stuff like that. Questions kept firing. One that I’m used to answering is “how have all of the attributes you picked up in your 15 years of swimming helped outside of the pool?”
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| the gorgeous bride! her blog is awesome- http://www.secureandstrong.com/ |
The first thing I said was not my scripted answer, but it made me take pause. Because of the high level I reached in swimming, I feel like I’m a failure in most of my new endeavors. If I cannot be among the best at something immediately, my pride causes me to be frustrated, impatient, and downright furious with myself. I’m also alarmed if I am not motivated to be better at something. If I am restocking items at Anthropologie, I have no ambition to be the best at restocking. I actually hope they find my restocking abilities inadequate so I no longer have to do it 😉 But restocking items well doesn’t really have a tangible reward. I will not make more money. I will most likely not earn extra recognition. I will not be promoted. In swimming, I was highly motivated because I saw those five interlocking rings on the top of the ladder and everything I did was inching me closer.
If my passion was in retail, perhaps I would see the culmination of these mundane tasks as a way to show myself worthy of a promotion. But I don’t see it that way, therefore I conclude I’m not passionate about retail. Not shocking…
Swimming is redundant in every way. So many strokes, so many laps, so many practices, so many lifts, so many aches, so many leg hairs! It’s no surprise that the passion I had for my sport got lost in the ebb and flow of my everyday repetitions. Now I can stand back and see that throughout I knew all those repetitions were worth something. Very seldom did I miss a practice because I could feel progress and there is no greater feeling. I now see what a rare thing it is to attack a goal with intention each day. I venture to say most people work to make a living, but not always with higher aspirations. I think the rare breeds that do love their jobs do because they feel the progress embedded in the daily grind. Productivity is rewarding and addicting. This explains why I feel antsy in a job that does not feel productive to me.
Thank you swimming for giving me an addiction to tangible progress. Yeah, sometimes it leaves me feeling like my wheels are spinning in the mud, but when I get on the road again I’ll be anxious to make up for lost time.
