A few years ago, I had an opportunity to go on a guided rafting trip together with a dear friend. Along with other random strangers, we had paid a well-respected company for the privilege of going down the south fork of the American River in a raft. It was a good spring for beginning rafters with significant rain over the course of the winter to fill the river and there were only a very few class two rapids on our journey.
For those of you, like myself, who aren’t familiar with rafting, rapids are rated on a scale from 0-4, with 4 being the most turbulent. So class two rapids were going to require some coordinated paddling by the group, managed by our capable guide, but they certainly weren’t dangerous or require any technical skills in rafting beyond what our guide was providing on behalf of the whole group. Before departing, our guide went over a few paddling techniques and some terms. The most important rule was that if he said to do something, our job was to DO it… to follow the expert’s guidance right away without hesitation, analysis or question. Okay, I thought, we can do this… and I’m cautiously excited for this!
To help paint the picture, I am NOT an adrenaline junkie. I’m really good at forecasting and seeing far down the trail or river or across the lake. I’m typically the one in the room, or on the trail, asking questions about how this piece of the plan is going to play out or what tools or knowledge we might need to successfully execute that piece of the plan. Historically, I’ve been the last one in the group to ante up and say yes, I’ll do the race or the project or the adventure… after I’ve thought everything through, imagining and planning for any number of possible outcomes.
What I learned that day was that often our anticipation of the unknown, an event or a task or a conversation, is the hardest part of doing something unknown, untried, untested, unplanned… not the actual DOING of that unknown thing.
That afternoon on the river, as we approached the first set of rapids, our guide began telling us about it. He told us that everyone should have their paddle ready and those on the left side were going to need to paddle hard in the beginning. Despite never having been rafting before, my mind began trying to imagine and solve many what-if scenarios. As he continued talking, I could feel my apprehension level rising; my heart began to beat faster, my breathing became shallower, my muscles began to tense up and I began to regret having said yes to this adventure.
Then, all of a sudden, we were IN the rapids! We were paddling, then not paddling, then paddling again while our guide gave instructions. In a matter of under a minute, we were through the rapids and the water was calm again and our guide told us to relax. And my body began to relax, too; my muscles relaxed, my breathing slowed down and my mind quieted. Well, I thought… that was wasn’t so bad; nothing terrible happened. Nobody lost a paddle, we didn’t end up in the water, nobody got hurt, nobody got separated from the group… none of the possible scenarios I’d imagined played out. Huh, I thought after another minute or two of floating… that was actually kind of cool.
A short while later, the next set of rapids could be seen up ahead and our guide began to talk to us about what might happen in this set of rapids. Again, my body began to prepare with adrenaline, tensed muscles, shallow breathing and my mind imagined and tried to solve all the possible permutations of possible outcomes and how I should react in each one.
And just like the first set of rapids, we were through it with the directions of our able guide in short order. And even though a few of us, including yours truly, fell out of the raft, not only did I think it was cool I even began to think maybe this was fun.
Rinse and repeat a few more times, including once where all but one of us fell out of the raft (hats off to my friend Kirsten for staying IN the raft), and I was convinced rafting was FUN… and I wanted to keep doing it.
Later as my friend and I rehashed the day and the trip, I realized that the anticipation of the rapids was far worse than actually being IN the rapids. In fact, the most difficult part of that rafting trip was the ANTICIPATION of the rapids… not the rapids themselves. The anticipation lasted far longer than the actual rapids. AND, there’s something about the ACTION required while being IN the rapids that is far easier than the planning and anticipation before the rapids, too.
What if that’s true for other things in life too? Is the hardest part of doing something new, different, untried actually the anticipation and planning before the new thing? If that’s true, can I use that knowledge to help myself lean into new things in a different way? Can I remind myself that the anticipation is the hardest part? Can I shorten the planning time so I’m not in the anticipation state as long? Can I afford myself some more grace when I’m in the planning stage to acknowledge the discomfort of anticipation? Can I develop a new set of tools to help myself in the “before” stage, the anticipation stage?
What’s your experience? What’s the hardest part of doing something new for you? And how do you afford yourself grace when doing something new? Write me an email or comment here… I’d love to hear from you.
And keep living the examined life… the examined life takes energy and it is ALWAYS worth it!