Give Yourself The Gift of External Perspective
I’m not techie enough.
I don’t read enough.
I don’t work out enough.
I don’t work hard enough.
I’m not smart enough.
I’m not good enough.
My entire life I’ve been acutely self-critical. Whether nature or nurture’s to blame, I don’t know (I do, but that’s a post for another day). I can trace this feeling back to fourth grade. I was the third fastest runner in my class (the fastest went on to play men’s rugby at the international level, but that’s beside the point).
The fact isn’t that I wasn’t fast. It’s that I wasn’t fast enough.
When I was in middle school and high school, I found myself among a group of high-achieving “A” students. There I learned that I wasn’t smart enough. I felt this way even after I “skipped” grade six — it’s a long story — and I have trouble giving myself credit. But, for those few hours, little ol’ me was smart enough to trick the district school board and skipeth a grade. While normal people would celebrate and cherish these achievements (oh and do I envy you), I’ve relented my mild successes to luck or “a better time” when my brain wasn’t in what seems like a constant state of mental decay.
Most days, I feel like crap over the shit I do not know. I know it’s not healthy. But the more I learn, the more unnerving it is to look down that bottomless pit. It gets darker with each passing year. Like all of us, I am fallible. Fallible to the idea of the ideal human. Reading about Da Vinci does not make me feel better.
This brings me to something that I came across this weekend that for many would be so unmemorable but has instead lingered on in my head — like the smell of curry to a ski jacket (if you’re South Asian, you know exactly what I mean).
I came across a candidate’s resume for a vacancy in our company. Of course, as one would expect, it had all the “accoutrements” of a well-put profile (say it in a French accent or don’t say it at all).
As I flipped over to the second page, this individual highlighted some accomplishments that he was proud of — as he should be. One of those things was in humour (which I appreciated), and the other was legitimate (or at least I hope it was; otherwise the whole basis for this post is garbage).
This (younger) guy mentioned that he could run a 5K in under 25 minutes — and he seemed pretty chuffed about it.
Now for those who don’t run, running 5km in under 25 minutes is good time. It’s not something that’ll get you to the Olympics or a special ribbon at your local meet, but it does show that you’re a healthy specimen with a certain amount of physical strength/stamina.
Why is this important? Around six months ago, a friend got me into running. And despite my somewhat sporadic schedule, without fail, I almost always finish a 5K in under 25 minutes. About a week ago, I finished one in under 23.
Until I came across this accomplishment, I frankly thought I was a garbage runner (I have no idea why I’m gravitating towards trash but let’s go with it), constantly comparing myself to a younger self in high school or better athletes.
For me, this totally uneventful experience momentarily made me stop, think, and consider the deprecating internal narrative that I constantly feed myself. Never satisfied. Always in the pursuit for more — to do more — to do better — to be better.
But alas, I am a hypocrite. The yardstick with which I measure others’ accomplishments is far shorter than the one I use to measure mine. Perspective is wonderful but it’s not something that I’m used to, especially when the outcome of any deliberation favors me. God forbid, that’s almost like accepting compliments. It’s awkward.
Almost always, I think about how much better my life is compared to 95% of the world’s population. Broken bone? No problem. Depressed like Eeyore? No worries — after all, I have no right to quibble about anything. My issues are inconsequential; and so, by default, so too are my victories.
I have no idea about the fitness journey of this kid or what it took him to accomplish this task. Perhaps he recently got into an active lifestyle or perhaps it’s as simple as him being stoked about shedding off a few minutes. Whatever it is, I’m glad he’s proud.
And I should be too.
Sure, I don’t know how much more difficult his journey was than mine (or vice versa) — however, objectively speaking, finishing a 5K in under 23 minutes, is dare I say, pretty good.
So, as we hang up our boots for a year that seemed like a dystopian future out of a sci-fi novel, join me this holiday season and cherish the small wins, no matter how trivial they may seem. Cut yourself some slack. Try and see things from the perspective of others. You may be pleasantly surprised when you do.
