Shifting Gears

I coach high school mountain biking, and one of the early lessons every student needs to learn (over and over again) is to shift gears in anticipation of, not in reaction to, the terrain ahead. The mechanics are pretty simple: if we're going up a hill and wait to shift until the gravity threatens to overtake us, we've already used up a bunch of energy and momentum before we decide to shift. A last-minute shift puts strain on ourselves and our equipment, leaving us slower and more tired at the end. Similarly, if we're going downhill and we choose not to shift, we're enjoying the descent but wasting momentum and control that we could be funneling into the ride. 

I am fairly good at applying a decent shifting strategy on the trail. And I am pretty bad at applying it to my life. In life, when I see a challenge up ahead, I tend to work harder rather than getting smart and using the tools and equipment around me to shift gears, make the climb a little easier, and get up the hill faster.

Shifting in life (and riding) is tricky because it requires both anticipation and realism. I have to pop up and look ahead at the terrain long enough to recognize that there's a challenge ahead. And I have to pause inside to recognize that perhaps rather than just gutting it out, maybe I want to find ways to make the proverbial climb a little easier. I am always glad when I do this, but I often don't pause in time to respond to the challenge I'm about to meet. 

What does it look like to shift before we hit the hill? For me, it can mean temporarily decommitting to regular activities until the challenge is over (or at least until I know how I'm responding ot the challenge). It can look like opting out of some meetings I regularly attend and asking a teammate or the organizer to send me notes to carve out a little more breathing room. At home, it looks like buying a few easy meals I can quickly prepare if the day runs away from me before I get to cook. Sometimes it looks like asking my kids to pack me snacks or veggies when they're packing their lunch, so I will have something healthy in my bag even if I didn't have time to put it there.

Can we gut it out and go up a hill in a tough gear? Yeah, often we can. But why? What are we proving and who are we proving it to? Might it be wiser and kinder to ourselves and everybody around us to shift gears before the hill?