Why Do We Do Hard Things?
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September 6, 2024 |
Why Do We Do Hard Things?
This article was originally published on LinkedIn.
Why do we do hard things? This is a question that rolled through my head for hours pushing a bike through the South Chilcotin wilderness on Friday. For those who don’t know, this area is extremely remote, spectacularly beautiful and also serves as a grizzly habitat. Most people who venture into the region do so in a large group with a guide. I consider myself lucky to have a group of friends that like a challenge. So it was no surprise when I got a text from my friend who simply sent me a Trailforks Map and said “Here is the Chilcotins Big Ride Plan.”
I waffled a bit. It was a big ride. Four mountain passes. 100kms on a mountain bike with over 4,000 meters of climbing, 30 degree weather and, of course, the grizzlies. The plan was to drive up the night before. Camp. Wake up at 530 and ride at 630 to maximize daylight. Likely ride time was about 12 hours, and we would expect to be out for a total of 14-15 hours. But, why bother with this? I’ve been to the area several times before. It is unforgiving. That timing is tight and will leave me not only physically tired but sleep deprived. Still, for some reason, I committed.
Committing to the ride meant arriving to camp at 1 am after a full work day and getting one of my two kids to bed. It also meant driving the Hurley Forest Service Road at night. Moreover, this isn’t a ride you just “do”. Planning and preparation for a ride like this is serious. Being unprepared could literally mean death. So I had to whip up a checklist between meetings and parent duties, swap ideas with my other friends on the trip (who are all experienced, and we have done many trips like this together) and make sure that it all fit on the bike.
After a few hours of non sleep in a tent, we got rolling. The ride was nothing short of epic - the Chilcotins always deliver. We had unreal scenery. Difficult hike a bike. Ribbons of flowy singletrack. Rushing creek crossings. Epic bugs. Windy alpine peaks. Beautiful alpine flowers in bloom. In short, all of the good. None of that could mask the physical effort, however.
At one point, high up on Deer Pass, our group was in a precarious position. Extreme fatigue was setting in. Our jerseys were salt encrusted from the heat. Daylight was running out, and we still had one more pass to conquer. As a group, it was unclear given our physical condition whether we could actually safely finish the ride. But unlike being near a city, you can’t just turn down and go home. There were no shortcuts. So under a fog of fatigue, we had to make some decisions. Can we ride it out? Do we turn back? Do we call SOS at the top of a mountain and get rescued? These are choices that are being made under extreme pressure and all the choices are all suboptimal. Our decision was simple: we finish. And we use all the food (and especially caffeine) we have in stock right in that moment to get us there.
Things started to turn around. The final pass was less arduous than the previous one. Spirits were being restored. We knew we would finish. And then, thick in forest, a giant brown head shot up from behind a stump. I was in front and my friend Jamie called it out. The biggest grizzly any of us had seen (and we had already seen one that day) was standing right in our path. It was silent, but curiously watching us. We formed a tight circle, spoke to the grizzly calmly but firmly, and brought out our bear spray - careful to remove the safety clips. Adrenaline was pumping and we were ready. Throughout this moment, we all were communicating to one another. “Double check - do you have your safety off?” “Remember, we aim down and then go high” “Bikes in front”. There was no time to panic. Just action. After what felt like minutes, the big grizzly ducked into the woods and disappeared. We waited a few more minutes, and then continued our journey. That adrenaline lasted us the final hour or two back to the truck.
We finished right as the sun was setting with smiles on our faces. Cold beer and cokes and chips were waiting in a cooler. We did it. Four passes. Three alpine lake swims. Two grizzly sightings. Many, many, stories. This all happened on a Friday that I was supposed to be in the office.
So why am I writing this? I couldn’t help but circle back to the original question - why do we do hard things? Assuming it isn’t just hardwired, is there a benefit to doing something like this? My thinking is “yes” and here is why.
Hard things require preparation. Being better prepared for a challenge leads to thinking about probable and foreseeable outcomes. I know I will be hungry on this ride. How much food do I need? What if things go sideways? Do I bring food for that? What about clothing? We know the weather, but we are covering a lot of ground. With big elevation changes. What do we need for that? What happens if we need to sleep overnight due to a problem? You learn to think through the preparation, build a checklist, seek feedback on the checklist, refine it, and execute on it.
Hard things require choosing your Team wisely. I did this trip with three lifelong friends, all of whom have done something like this with me before. I would never do it for the first time with someone without experience. We knew that we had each other to lean on should we encounter any unforeseen problem. Isn’t that a lot like choosing a spouse or a business partner? What do you know about your counterparty? If things get hard, is the person you’re with the one you can rely on to help you navigate your way out? Assembling the right Team can make or break your success.
Hard things require you to make decisions under pressure, often when they are not optimal ones. You also run a full suite of emotions from euphoria, to fear, anger, sadness, resignation, among others. So what will your emotional state be when you have to make a decision? Using an example, who hasn’t been in this situation before: “If only things were like ‘this’ then it would be different.” Well, they are not. You have to work with what you’ve got. Sometimes, in life or in business you have to choose the best suboptimal path. And often, when paths are suboptimal, you are probably under pressure and in an emotional state of mind when choosing the path. You get to learn to be comfortable being uncomfortable and regulate your emotions in the moment. Hard things help you practice this.
Hard things require us to admit that we are small, and the world is big. Our problems are rarely existential in our day to day. How many times do you get upset over something like spilling coffee? Maybe being in a meeting you don’t like? Choosing something for dinner? Facing a grizzly sharpens your focus immediately. Suddenly, choosing what to have for dinner isn’t a big deal when you are trying to make sure you are not the grizzly’s dinner. It is a meeting you don’t want to be having, but you don’t have a choice. You have to deal with it - a lot of things are bigger than you. It is important to be reminded of that. You gain perspective.
Ultimately, hard things teach us that they will pass. I am writing this drinking a nice cup of coffee with my family, comfortably sitting by the lake, day dreaming about the next challenge. I also feel a sense of appreciation for the little things. The more hard things you do, the more you realize they are temporary. You get better at them the more you practice. Hard things help you face new challenges with grace.
Do the hard things. It will lead to good things.
Thanks to my wife and family who let me do these hard things, the amazing Team Neighbourhood Holdings for understanding and covering for me, and gear from my friends at 7mesh Industries and Bici.cc. And of course, to Rob Britton, RYAN ANDERSON and Jamie Sparling for riding along with me on this one.