What I learned from 100 miles on a bike in the rain.
I was a fat couch potato. I was that kid who was told to stay inside and read rather than go outside and play. I dabbled in activities as I grew up, playing high school sports to have something to put on my college application. I went to the gym in college with my friends a few times and loitered near the treadmill.
Once I hit that horrid mid-to-late-20s phase (when you’re supposed to be a grownup but really have no idea how to do that) I realized that I was unhappy and needed to make changes in my life. I started exercising. Not one for moderation, I decided to run a marathon not long after running my first race. I loved it. I turned myself into an endurance athlete, running six marathons and two 50k races in my 30s. Then I broke my foot, had surgery and had to find other ways of staying sane. I ended up on a bike, and due to my previously mentioned avoidance of moderation, I went from not owning a bike or riding regularly to doing a century (100-mile ride) in under 3 months.
My first century was fine. As good as a full day on a bike can be for someone who’d rather be running. So I agreed to do it again the next year.
The day of the ride came and the weather forecast didn’t look great. The forecast predicted rain starting right around the time the ride began. The forecast was correct. The rain started right on cue. And continued the whole day. I’ve never experienced so many different kinds of rain. Mist to pelting downpour, I rode through it all that day.
I had a lot of time to think while in the saddle, and have thought about that day often in the years since. Here are the life lessons I took from the experience, in addition to a soggy head full of road dirt:
Know what you’re getting into. I knew that there was a chance that Chicago in the fall could be rainy, or cold, or really really hot (as thousands of Chicago Marathon runners will attest). I decided to take a chance on not having a perfect day, and agreed to do the ride. Similarly you should understand the risks and rewards around a project before you agree to do it.
Not every project is going to be great. Not every minute is going to be fun. But if you said you’d do something, you should finish it, unless you have a really really good reason not to (being wet and sore isn’t a good reason to not finish a bike ride).
Breaking the huge into small makes it easier to digest. I focused on the next 20 miles, or the next hour. In work situations I focus on the next deliverable or the next week. But…
Don’t lose sight of the end goal. Don’t use all your energy (or resources, or budget) to hit an interim goal leaving yourself exhausted (or short staffed) for the final phases.
Plan rewards for intermediate milestones. Just like I allowed myself a break under a shelter at a rest stop at mile 50 where I enjoyed a bowl of soup and some cookies (this event had really well stocked rest stops), create small celebrations at key points along your team’s journey (I suggest something better than a bowl of soup. Unless your team really likes soup).
Don’t do it alone. I did that ride with my husband and his uncle. While we didn’t ride together the whole time, we checked in on each other, and we knew that we were all in it together. Find allies on your project team, and check in with each other.
Know that we each have our invisible challenges. I rationalized my slow ride and sub-optimal fitness on my foot and the rehab process. No one would know that by seeing my plodding along on my bike. I reminded myself that everyone out there had their own scars and hurdles, and that I couldn’t possibly know what they’d overcome to get to this point, or what they were going home to. I remind myself of that in the office as well. We all bring our lives with us, and each have our own distractions and struggles. I try to remember that whole people are working on teams with me, and that they have whole lives. And today might not be a good day for them. I just don’t know, so I try to give the A.
Remember why you’re doing it. Whatever IT is. I was riding to once again be the athlete that I’d turned myself into. I was riding as the culmination of a summer spent on long rides with my best friend. I was riding to show myself that my injury wasn’t going to win. Remember why you do the job you do.
Perspective is key. Yes that day was awful. But it was one day. And my awful was riding through safe neighborhoods on a nice bike and stopping for plentiful snacks. And I was healthy enough to ride for a full day. I know that millions of people would consider that a good day. And I know that many of my bad days look better in comparison to that day. Boring four-hour meeting? At least it’s not eight hours riding in the rain! I know that my bad days are not truly bad. And I bring that to work. My hard days at work are still better than most people’s good days. I remind myself how lucky I am.