This week, I was watching the Olympics with a group during
a break at a conference we were attending. As I listened to
the various conversations in the room, I picked up two
themes which troubled me.
The first was the familiar refrain, "If only I had that
kind of talent." I'm convinced that most people actually
have no idea whether or not they could compete in the
Olympics. Obviously, most of us don't have the training,
the youth or the determination, so we'll never know for
sure. But very few of us have ever committed to finding the
absolute limits of our talent and abilities.
The second familiar excuse was, "I never had the chance." I
heard stories about bad coaches, bad referees, parents who
weren't supportive, and on it went. "If only…."
In stark contrast, I'm amazed by the ordinary people who
have done extraordinary things once they decided they
really wanted to. A middle-age woman I know, Margo
Chisholm, climbed the highest mountain on six of the seven
continents (including Antarctica), and almost made it to
the top of Mt Everest…twice! Somewhere along the line, she
decided it was worth the trouble, so she "went for it."
I won't go into Margo's personal story except to say that
if you knew her medical background, you'd appreciate that
story even more! It was not easy, but she climbed very high
indeed!
Philip Humbert share, "Many years ago, as a much younger man, I ran marathons in
Portland and the famous Chicago Marathon. They were
grueling and I was pretty proud of myself, until I looked
at the runners around me.
The thing about marathons is that television usually
highlights the least interesting part of the story. Up
front--way out in front!--are the elite, world-class runners.
The TV cameras focus on them and, within the first mile,
they go away and leave the rest of us in peace.
Back in the pack is where the fun, the excitement and the
drama take place. That's where I got to meet women who had
just given birth, sometimes to their third, fourth or even
fifth child. And sometimes, only a few weeks before the
marathon!
In the pack is where you meet the Wounded Warriors, some of
them running on prosthetics. And the couples running with
their kids. Back in the crowd, I ran with retirees who got tired of
golf or fishing and decided to do something different. I met
school teachers, artists and guys like me, folks who decided to
see how far we could go.
This week, I saw a story about a young woman who picked up
a car that had fallen on her father, then gave him CPR to save
his life. If you'd asked her the day before if she could lift a car,
she would have laughed in your face! But, according to the
story, she did it when she "had to."
I hope the point is obvious. None of us really knows how
much talent, strength, ability and endurance we really
have. Until we are pushed to our limits, we rarely get the
chance to find out what can actually do. And, that's when a
critical decision has to be made.
For most of people, the decision is, "Since I never have, I
probably can't." But, there is another alternative!
The other possibility is to decide, "I never have, but I'll
give it my best shot and see what happens."
I've had the privilege of working with U.S. Navy SEALS, and
hearing about their training. What they emphasize is that
while physical strength is important, it is not the critical
factor for success. They tell me that mental attitude is far
more important than physical fitness. Some candidates
are determined, persistent and relentless. They become
SEALS. Others get tired or injured or worn-out and
"ring the bell"--they go home.
In business and in life, it's fun to watch the Olympics. We
love watching the very best athletes. We admire the best
entertainers, the best business leaders, the richest and
the most famous. We admire them, but instead of learning
from them or emulating them, too often we find excuses to
justify our own mediocre performance.
We say "I'm too old" or "they got all the breaks." Instead
of learning their techniques and copying their skills, we
dismiss them as unusually blessed and different from us. I
suspect that's a mistake.
a break at a conference we were attending. As I listened to
the various conversations in the room, I picked up two
themes which troubled me.
The first was the familiar refrain, "If only I had that
kind of talent." I'm convinced that most people actually
have no idea whether or not they could compete in the
Olympics. Obviously, most of us don't have the training,
the youth or the determination, so we'll never know for
sure. But very few of us have ever committed to finding the
absolute limits of our talent and abilities.
The second familiar excuse was, "I never had the chance." I
heard stories about bad coaches, bad referees, parents who
weren't supportive, and on it went. "If only…."
In stark contrast, I'm amazed by the ordinary people who
have done extraordinary things once they decided they
really wanted to. A middle-age woman I know, Margo
Chisholm, climbed the highest mountain on six of the seven
continents (including Antarctica), and almost made it to
the top of Mt Everest…twice! Somewhere along the line, she
decided it was worth the trouble, so she "went for it."
I won't go into Margo's personal story except to say that
if you knew her medical background, you'd appreciate that
story even more! It was not easy, but she climbed very high
indeed!
Philip Humbert share, "Many years ago, as a much younger man, I ran marathons in
Portland and the famous Chicago Marathon. They were
grueling and I was pretty proud of myself, until I looked
at the runners around me.
The thing about marathons is that television usually
highlights the least interesting part of the story. Up
front--way out in front!--are the elite, world-class runners.
The TV cameras focus on them and, within the first mile,
they go away and leave the rest of us in peace.
Back in the pack is where the fun, the excitement and the
drama take place. That's where I got to meet women who had
just given birth, sometimes to their third, fourth or even
fifth child. And sometimes, only a few weeks before the
marathon!
In the pack is where you meet the Wounded Warriors, some of
them running on prosthetics. And the couples running with
their kids. Back in the crowd, I ran with retirees who got tired of
golf or fishing and decided to do something different. I met
school teachers, artists and guys like me, folks who decided to
see how far we could go.
This week, I saw a story about a young woman who picked up
a car that had fallen on her father, then gave him CPR to save
his life. If you'd asked her the day before if she could lift a car,
she would have laughed in your face! But, according to the
story, she did it when she "had to."
I hope the point is obvious. None of us really knows how
much talent, strength, ability and endurance we really
have. Until we are pushed to our limits, we rarely get the
chance to find out what can actually do. And, that's when a
critical decision has to be made.
For most of people, the decision is, "Since I never have, I
probably can't." But, there is another alternative!
The other possibility is to decide, "I never have, but I'll
give it my best shot and see what happens."
I've had the privilege of working with U.S. Navy SEALS, and
hearing about their training. What they emphasize is that
while physical strength is important, it is not the critical
factor for success. They tell me that mental attitude is far
more important than physical fitness. Some candidates
are determined, persistent and relentless. They become
SEALS. Others get tired or injured or worn-out and
"ring the bell"--they go home.
In business and in life, it's fun to watch the Olympics. We
love watching the very best athletes. We admire the best
entertainers, the best business leaders, the richest and
the most famous. We admire them, but instead of learning
from them or emulating them, too often we find excuses to
justify our own mediocre performance.
We say "I'm too old" or "they got all the breaks." Instead
of learning their techniques and copying their skills, we
dismiss them as unusually blessed and different from us. I
suspect that's a mistake.
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