“If you can’t fly, then run. If you can’t run, then walk. If you can’t walk, then crawl, but whatever you do, you have to keep moving forward.”
—Martin Luther King Jr.
Put me on a treadmill and my running is questionable at best, but if you were to dangle a shiny goal in front of my past self…no question about it, I’m sprinting.
As I shared in There, I used to throw myself into achieving a goal the moment I knew what I was aiming for. I applied this mentality to all areas of my life—career, relationships, business, even my healing journey. Slow and steady was never my mantra until I learned my lesson the hard way.
Reflecting back, I think there were several reasons why I approached marathon endeavors with the intensity of someone running the 100-meter dash.
I strongly disliked being in a state of limbo/stuckness; rushing towards the finish line helped me get out of said uncomfortable state.
I approached life the same way I approached studying for finals. Nose to the grindstone, all-or-nothing devotion to get the best grade possible.
Running towards something kept me busy. After a lifetime in rapid motion, I didn’t know slowing down was even an option.
My impatient self wanted results and she wanted results now.
Perfectionism meant my feelings of self-worth were on the line. This pushed me to sprint as hard as I possibly could to add to my growing list of achievements.
In A Smaller Lawn, I wrote about capacity. As we evolve, so does the size of the metaphorical lawn we are able to properly take care of. Sometimes, we need to give ourself permission to scale down what we can reasonably and sustainably maintain.
Rather than talking about how much load we can take on, this article will focus on the speed at which we move towards our dreams. I’ve already written about scaling, now I’d like to share my thoughts on pacing.
“Patience is compassion.”
These words were spoken to me by a monastic at the meditation retreat I attended last month.
As I was driving to the retreat, I was listening to an episode of The Happiness Lab podcast titled How to Fight Perfectionism. In the episode, Yale law graduate Jordana Confino shares her own story of running the high-achieving rat race, one I deeply resonated with. One line in particular stood out of me.
After graduating top of her high school + law school and going on to earn a coveted spot at a prestigious firm, Jordana finally hit her own burnout point. Upon returning to work, her therapist asked this one potent question—”If a racehorse were to break down from fatigue and exhaustion, would you continue whipping it to make it go faster?”
When I heard this while cruising along the highway from Jersey to New York, my jaw dropped.
What led to the seismic shift over the last few years that makes my past self look like a workaholic stranger I can barely recognize?
What got me to finally embrace slow and steady after a lifetime of fast and furious?
I believe the simple answer lies in the art of self-compassion.
In Reversing the Golden Rule, I shared tidbits of my own self-compassion journey. From changing the way I talk to myself to writing long letters of self compassion during harrowing times, I have rewired my brain one conversation at a time to choose words of love and understanding over harshness and criticism.
If compassion is the trunk of the tree anchoring me to the Earth, then patience is one of the branches that emerges from the sturdy foundation. As I strengthened my compassion towards myself, my poisonous tendency to whip myself to go faster and faster wilted. Once upon a time, slowing down would make my skin crawl. I used to believe that if I wasn’t squeezing as much as I could out of 24 hours, I wasn’t doing life right. Then I learned that a life of unrelenting productivity, while capable of producing astonishing results in a short period of time, was far from sustainable.
The more I think about the words “patience is compassion,” the more I believe them to be true. Perhaps my slower pace isn’t a reflection of my inability to perform, as I had incorrectly judged it to be, but rather a growing sense of kindness and responsibility towards myself. And with all things, you have to foster it in yourself first before you can extend it to others. In allowing myself more grace in my days, I’ve found it easier to extend the same understanding and compassion to those I care about.
Below are some things I’ve used to check my own pacing from time to time.
At the end of each week, I ask myself— What does my motivating fuel consist of? Do I need to slow down or speed up?
Through meditation, I have developed keen awareness of my physical, mental and emotional states. If anything starts sending signals of overwhelm, I listen.
I understand pacing is fluid. There’s never going to be a single speed on which we operate on cruise control forever. Life happens. We’ll need to adjust accordingly. Similar to pacing travel, it’s a constant turning of the velocity dial.
I recognize I’m not going to be able to run every single day. Some days I’ll have to walk or even crawl. And that’s okay. As long as I keep showing up. As long as I give it my best, even if my best is at 15%, then I will give that 15%. Nothing more, nothing less.
Journaling
Imagine you are driving the car of your life. Which of these four components does the fuel consist of: love, duty, fear, and/or desire?
If you were to shift your motivations towards love and duty, how would the speed of your car change?
Is your current pace sustainable in the long term? If not, what are some small changes you can make this week to decrease the velocity?