The trail is under water...now what?
Living comfortably with uncertainty is one of the hardest things to do. Two events this week reminded me.
First, Rob lost his apartment unexpectedly last Friday afternoon in a tornado while we were running Zumbro 100 Mile. We didn’t know it until the next day and only found out the day after that, while en route back to Tennessee, that he had to vacate the apartment in 5 days. He’s been dealing with complete uncertainty on where to live and how fast to get there. His plans have been changing several times a day due to factors outside his control. Tons of uncertainty.
Next, my dad announced that he had chosen to undergo neck surgery to reduce or hopefully even eliminate the vertebrae-related pain that has been plaguing him for several years now. While the outcome clearly carries uncertainty for him, the decision itself introduces a level of uncertainty into my mother’s life as well as mine, my sister’s, and that of everyone who cares about him. You can’t argue with his choice but it’s still a bit scary.
Uncertainty jars you out of your comfort zone. And yet, we shouldn’t be so surprised by it because nothing in life is truly secure. Anything can change at any moment and the longer you live, the more opportunities there are for uncertainty to rear it’s uncomfortable head and throw your plans out the window.
Take a 100-mile race. Let’s say you’ve done one before, have trained hard, and expect to finish this one with a personal best time.
It’s still a long way and there’s plenty of time and distance for the unexpected to occur. A freak ice storm keeps you from getting to the start on time. An unpredicted thunderstorm drops the temperature into hypothermia territory. The drop bag you’re relying on at night doesn’t arrive at the aid station. You fall and knock you hip out of alignment so that it’s painful to even walk. The course is longer than advertised and you are in danger of missing the tight cutoff time at the next aid station. You fall and break a bone. You get sick. You get lost. (these are ALL imaginary things that have never happened in real life, right?)
You may not choose to invite uncertainty into your life (“I’m lost???”) but at least you get to choose how to deal with it. You can either resist it or accept it and try to adapt your plans.
Most of us resist. It doesn’t make any sense but it’s natural. ”This can’t be happening. This CAN’T be happening. I trained so hard for a good race!” Unfortunately, resisting doesn’t change the fact that you’re still lost in the woods.
You can fret and fume all you want but it just wastes valuable time and energy. You trained hard and planned everything out…pictured yourself crossing the finish line…imagined what your friends and family would say…dreamed of the next race you could run even faster. Standing in the middle of the woods getting mad because you’re supposed to finish with a great time doesn’t do one thing to get you to the finish line. In fact, it might waste enough time to keep you from finishing at all.
So what about the other approach – accepting the situation and adapting to it instead? You might run out of time and not be able to finish the race before the cutoff time. It’s hard to tell but what else can you do? You’ll just have to backtrack, find the trail, get to the next aid station and see if they pull you from the course or let you proceed. Do your best and then adapt your plans once again when you get there.
Once you mentally throw up your hands, you get the sense that accepting uncertainty is relaxing and (dare I say it?) maybe even a little fun. Letting go of that personal best time means there are more possible outcomes to your race. You might see the majestic herd of elk everyone else missed. You’ll probably run more miles than anyone else. Whatever happens you’ll have a huge story to tell. And you’ll remember it better over the years than you’ll remember that finish time.
Without being in a situation like Rob’s, my dad’s and my mom’s, it’s hard to remember that we live in uncertainty. It complicates things in uncomfortable ways so we like to forget it exists. Maybe the next time it makes itself known, we should (however reluctantly) greet it as possibility instead. What do you think?
