Sunday, June 10, 2012

Leaning In

Sports are constantly compared to life. In games such as football, tennis, and soccer, it is impossible to go even a year without someone bringing up the seemingly uncanny similarities between sports and life. Eventually, it becomes common knowledge that athletic competition, endurance, and even good footwork directly correspond, in one's mind, to real-world adversity, persistence, and preparation.
So it's not surprising that people credit their good life skills to techniques and lessons they've learned from sports.
I had one of those "ah hah" philosophy moments a few weeks ago during a tennis lesson. Even playing short-court with my coach, it was evidently apparent that I was transferring my weight incorrectly as I hit the ball. So, then came the wise coachly response: "JORDAN! You need to lean in to the ball a little more if you want to get it over the net," my tennis coach hinted to me.
It was such a silly thing to do wrong, and yet that one incorrect motion--falling backwards instead of pushing my weight forwards--had enough impact on my playing to taint my game, weaken my strokes, and render my movements inefficient.
Naturally, moments like this on the tennis court make me want to slap myself in the face for stupidity. But they also make me stop and think (and thank my coach.... thank you :)   ).
I'd been wasting an inmeasurable amount of energy falling back as I hit my shots (seeing as you aim to hit the ball directly forward, having your weight go backward during a stroke is extremely counterproductive), and changing that one simple logistic ameliorated the situation considerably. I was no longer wasting energy. I was no longer doing a half-you-know-what job. I was no longer holding myself back from hitting a powerful stroke and putting all my efforts genuinely toward that one goal of getting a good shot over the net.
It was in that moment that I realized that in many things, we hold ourselves back without even realizing it.

I could conclude this post with an idyllic statement about how I now perfectly and fully commit to everything I attempt to do in my entire life, but that's not really true. I now try to lean in as much as I can. And I recommend that you do the same--not only is it effective, but it is also exciting and engaging.
If you decide to try something new or begin a new daunting project at work or school or for fun, jump right in and be sure to give it your all. However, that does not mean expending energy and being overproductive like the Energizer Bunny on caffeine; it means taking a minute to think about what you are doing, and how much effort and value you think it's worth.
Use your time and intentions accordingly. Sometimes we fear success, or fear the consequences that our actions can have if they become contagious and surpass the measures of our abilities and control. Oftentimes, we regard this possibility with fear, but perhaps instead, we should consider this risk to be something worthwhile--both in terms of the potential for growth and learning it offers and for the simple curiosity it procures.
I decided to start leaning into my shots because I genuinely loathed the idea that I was preventing myself from playing as well as I could. In my mind, such a waste of effort is inexcuseable. The same holds true for everyday life; when you do karaoke with a friend, don't back down from those high notes--belt them as loud as you can, and if you're voice breaks, too bad (your friend should really love you anyways, despite your singing faults). If you have a summer goal, don't just set it--make a list/schedule and commit to achieving every item on that list to the best of your abilities. If you want to learn a new language, practice even if your accent is something terrible, because until you understand your faults and weaknesses, you cannot truly improve them.


So don't be afraid to lean in! Even if you overhit or aim incorrectly, at least you aimed and tried for something. And in this case, something is always better than nothing!

Who wouldn't swing for a face like this?


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