I Do It My Way

How strong is your perfectionist streak?

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I don’t need to be good at everything. Hell, I know I’m not good at a lot of things. 

I don’t consider myself competitive. Some might, but they mistake drive and dedication for needing to “win.” I don’t need to win. The person I compete with most is myself. Trying to take home a prize usually leads to disappointment. If I’m focused on the task/challenge, then I’m doing something I really enjoy. 

I dated someone awhile ago, only to discover that all along, there had been someone else. His words were, “I wanted us to win.” And my response was, “I don’t race.” I will not compete for someone’s love. I will not compete for a trophy. I will be the best I can be (which, in that relationship, was not very good to be honest) and give my full effort. But if it’s a matter of winning or losing, well–I tend to just not give a f***. 

But I hate to quit. Well, sometimes. Well, depending on what it is. ;) 

When I was a kid, I quit everything. And my parents didn’t mind. Mom detested sitting on the sidelines at practices or doing anything that required forced community interactions. So, when little me whined that she didn’t feel like going to gymnastics/dance/karate/piano/etc, she was met with little resistance. 

As a teen, I can’t count how many times I started a diet and quit a few days later. How many Special K diets, Slim Fast diets, diet pill diets did I give up on? Hard to say. I wanted the weight to vanish; I didn’t want to work for it. Like many people, I told myself if I could do it for two weeks, I would have a different body, a different life, and be golden. 

Oh, friends. That is never how it works. Weight loss journeys, like any journey, have no end point where you go back to the habits that kept you stuck. You don’t go back to eating bulk candy by the fistful after popping pills for two weeks and expect to have a new metabolism. It will never work that way. And now? I don’t want it to. But that’s another post. 

Once I figured out how to change my body for real, I discovered the power of actualizing goals. I realized that I could make things happen, and that was intoxicating.

As an adult, I developed a passion for taking on challenges that I deemed worthy. Sometimes I got in over my head without realizing. Sometimes I say yes to too many things. But I love discovering a passion and working on it. I will not walk away simply because something is challenging. 

I will walk away because it is not rewarding. And I am comfortable saying when something isn’t rewarding to me. I will also walk away if I am asked to; see the paragraph above about dating. I never want to be in a space where I am unwanted, and I don’t like to waste time.  That isn’t quitting. That’s knowing where to put your energy. 

So, I have quit hobbies. I have quit jobs. Quitting teaching was hard because I was wanted there, and it was incredibly rewarding. But it was not the right place for my energy anymore. I have quit relationships, including a marriage. I have quit food plans that didn’t work for me. I have quit exercise routines. I have quit board games aplenty (don’t ask me to play Settlers of Catan, please!). 

When something is rewarding to me, however, I tend to bend the rules if necessary. One of the songs I want played at my funeral is, “I Did It My Way.” I make things my own, and I’m comfortable doing so.

Spartan racing, for example. I love it, but I know I can’t complete every obstacle. So, I ask for boosts if I need help (not allowed if you’re a competitive racer). I take the burpee penalty for anything requiring me to move using only my upper body, like monkey bars. That doesn’t diminish the fact that I am a Spartan. That doesn’t detract from my love of race day. It simply means that I finish feeling like the boss I am because I did everything I could. 

Quitting is an option. But generally, I will see a good challenge through, especially if I can do it my way.

What does this have to do with skiing?

Basically, I can’t bend the rules, but I’m not ready to quit. 

I skied again last month. Colorado this time. If you haven’t read about my first skiing attempt, check it out. At the end of the first trip, I walked away from the slopes confident that it was the right thing to do. I also knew I would have another go on the Colorado trip. How did it turn out?

Aside from the leg cramps and a panic attack, not bad. 

Seriously. My second day of instruction started with locked muscles. Those had just gotten sorted when I froze up in panic at all the people zooming around me down this mountain. Panic attacks are so strange. I rarely get them, but they freeze you to the spot. Breathing and time are the only remedies for me. I was fully aware that there was no logical reason to freak out, but I had to coach myself back to that reality for sure. 

I have a fear of crashing into people. Living in Brooklyn, I always worried that a little kid on a Razor would plow into me, and of course I’d be the asshole. Similar fear on skis. I worried that my slow, careful pace would result in a collision with someone careening down the hill behind me, and I’d not even see it coming. On top of that, I am still very much a newbie. And skiing has rules of physics that I can’t make my own and stay safe. As they day progressed, I got freaked out a few other times, but no more cripplingly severe moments.

Even with all of that, though, I can’t say that I hate skiing. That I don’t want to do it. And that puzzles me. 

On paper, skiing should be right up my alley. It’s physical, it’s outside in beautiful scenery, as this pic from the gondola confirms. It’s something you can do all day and then feel great about having a beer after.

So everything about skiing except for sliding down a mountain on sticks is a perfect fit for my interests. But that sliding down part isn’t vibing for me yet. Can’t I just hike, please? Can’t I just do it my way, please??

View in Vail

The real question I’ve asked myself is, do I not enjoy skiing because I actually don’t like it? Or do I not enjoy it because I’m not yet proficient enough to do it confidently? Getting to the bottom of that quandary is why I’ve not yet given up. 

A lot of people I’ve discussed this with are baffled. “Let it go, Skye. You don’t have to do everything, you know,” is the general sentiment. But the perception there is that I feel like I need to like skiing. Rather, I want to like it. The misconception is sensible, given my A Bit Much personality, but I promise that I don’t feel like I have to do this. I just can’t figure out why I’m so ambivalent. Usually it’s a yes or a no. This one isn't. 

One of my soul mates gets me. Instead of encouraging me to let it go, they said, “The benefit of working hard isn’t about doing everything yourself. It’s about being able to choose what you want to put your efforts towards and what you don't. Not every mountain needs climbing, if you will. Only go after the ones that offer the best views or the most fun.”

So, do I want to put my effort toward skiing again? Yes. Do I think it’s a mountain that must be climbed? No. But I am willing to keep trying–a bit more, at least–to discover if this is my kind of fun. If I’m up for understanding the rules enough to enjoy it, or if indeed this will be a mountain I don’t climb anymore, literally and figuratively. 

Your Turn!

Name something you know is not for you.

Looking like I know what I’m doing.