When King Leonitis was nine years old he was forced to go out into the woods and was not allowed to return to Sparta until he brought back the carcass of a wolf, or at least that is how the movie 300 portrays it. It was a right of passage, something that was trained for and an opportunity that was coveted in the Spartan society. The first time I saw this film I was amazed that someone so young could complete such a task, but it is incredible what the mind can force the body to do when you are fighting for something greater than yourself. Of course, there is plenty of cinematic affect added in to the story, but the message is the same. Sparta would need a new leader, and if Leonitis were to one day fill that role then he needed to prove himself worthy of such a role. When my friends and I watched this movie again there were comments about this scene regarding how intense it must have been to have to complete something like this and how “badass” it must have felt to complete it. Throughout these comments I just had to sit back and smile because the fact of the matter was that I had gone through a family right of passage. While I didn’t have to fight to the death with a wild beast, I was, as were my father, uncles, cousins, and brother, put through a grueling test of mental and physical limits at the young age of thirteen.
When I was thirteen years old my father and I rode our bicycles across the state of Wisconsin, starting just north of Madison and finishing at our cabin outside Three Lakes. This tradition of biking to the cabin was started many years before my time, and it was a journey that I grew up hearing stories of. Every time a new member completed this journey it was celebrated in the family as aunts, uncles, and cousins excitedly asked questions about the trip to those who had completed it at the next family gathering. It was a journey I looked forward to throughout my youth, and when my time finally came I was ecstatic.
The ride always took place for the first time in pre-teen or early-teenage years. It took place at a time when, like every other Cates boy who had come before him, the rider was pre-pubescent and had a body type that better-resembled America’s Next Top Model contestants than the broad-shouldered, 200-plus pound being he would grow in to. But even though the first-time rider was often comically thin, the journey was completed each and every time. There are many lessons that can be learned from this, but I am going to highlight the five most important ones. These are lessons that can be applied to any task, big or small, that you are trying to accomplish in life.
The night before my father and I left on the ride my mother came up to my room to talk to me before I went to sleep. She told me that the trip the next day was going to be a lot harder than I was imagining and that it would be alright if I couldn’t finish the trip, that all I would have to do is let Dad know and he’d call her phone and she’d come pick us up wherever we were. I remember looking up at her and nodding my head as if I understood what she was saying, but in the back of my mind I was thinking, “What are you talking about? How am I not going to finish this trip? All we’re doing is riding our bikes, and a lot of the way is flat!” That moment right there is one of the best lessons the bike ride taught me, but until recently I was unable to put into words what actually happened. A few months ago, however, I found a quote from Martin Rooney and a light bulb went on. He said, “Have a beginner’s mind, because in the mind of a beginner anything is possible.” I was too young, inexperienced, and naïve to know how difficult this ride was going to be, and despite everybody’s warnings, in my mind I was still just riding my bike. I hadn’t spent a great deal of time on my bike in the past, but I felt I was strong enough to go for long periods of time if the pace was set to my liking.
Having a beginner’s mind is important for two reasons. First, it alleviates a lot of the stress that goes into the planning and allows you to focus on the doing. If I were to do this same bike ride today I would have so much on my mind in the weeks leading up to the trip that it would be difficult to enjoy the training and the experience. I would constantly be thinking, “Well what am I going to do if
X happens or if Y happens?” Granted, ultimately somebody does have to think about these details, and that responsibility was placed on my parents, but sometimes you need to quit worrying and spending so much time planning for all of the little things that might happen and just go out there and ride your bike.
Secondly, having a beginner’s mind allows you to not be constricted to what others think is good or what others think is possible. Honestly, how many little kids grow up thinking they are going to be professional athletes? Of course, anybody with eyes can see that the kid is as uncoordinated as they come, but in his or her mind they are good enough to make it. So what do they do? They go outside and they play and they work and they put forth effort towards achieving their goal. That type of blind effort is something that is lost in today’s society, the type of effort that is put forth regardless of what the probability of a favorable outcome is. Think about it this way: How many CEO’s are there in the US compared to how many middle-management positions? Now, how many people went from middle management to CEO by giving a middle-management effort? Even though the chances of making it to the top are slim, you’re never going to get there by putting forth a sub-par effort every day. Rather, you have to put forth a CEO effort and have that effort be fueled by the belief that one day you will make it.
I remember training for this bike ride one day and having my dad explain the route to me. He said that it would be a lot of miles but that we’d be stopping every fifteen miles or so at a gas station or bar to refill our water bottles and rest our legs for a minute. For some reason, all of the other numbers he told me about the trip went in one ear and out the other, but fifteen miles stuck with me. Fifteen miles? That was it? I could ride fifteen miles easy, so I knew right then and there that I could make it. It didn’t matter to me how many fifteen-mile legs there were, that distance was nothing. This ability to break large tasks up into small steps served me well then and continues to serve me well to this day. Similar to the points that I made in The Power Of The Pen, when you are trying to accomplish something of significance in your life it makes sense to break that task up into small steps that you can accomplish every day or even every hour or every minute. Like I said in The Power Of The Pen, give yourself steps to reach your goals that are too easy not to accomplish right now. When you break your big goals into small steps it allows you to feel like you are always making progress and makes big tasks seem more manageable.
These first two lessons are all I’m going to give you for now. Next month I’ll be back with three other lessons the bike ride taught me. In the mean time, approach new opportunities and tasks with a beginner’s mind, striving for what you feel is possible, taking action and getting things done instead of simply talking about what you’re going to do, and breaking your future goals down into immediate goals.
Charlie Cates is a strength and conditioning specialist and the owner of Self Made® (http://selfmadefitness.com/) in Chicago, IL. He has worked with competitive and everyday athletes of all ages and ability levels, from 9-year-old kids to NFL MVP's. He can be reached via e-mail at charlie@selfmadefitness.com.
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