What’s Most Unreasonable is the Most Memorable
My wife and I have a saying that we love and perpetually repeat to one another in tough, weird, or uncertain times.
"What's most unreasonable is the most memorable."
It's an idea from one of my favorite books, The Power of Moments by Chip and Dan Heath. The Heath brothers write about the most meaningful, memorable, and transformative moments in life.
These are the moments that we remember on our deathbeds. The moments that make up the content of the stories we tell at barbeques and weddings.
And spoiler alert: it's not the moments where I'm tearing through an entire bag of popcorn like it's my last supper while binging a series on Netflix.
Usually, the moments we cherish are the ones that are challenging and involve suffering through or overcoming obstacles.
Some of my most distinct memories are of times I'd never want to return to.
When I was in middle school, my sister signed me up to do a "mini-duathlon" (4 miles running and 7 miles biking). My sister is notorious for signing me up for things and telling me the night before. This little treat falls into that category.
I remember arriving on a cold, rainy morning in North Carolina. I showed up in high-top basketball shoes that felt like ankle weights and with a bike from the 1980s that had a rusty chain that would pop off any time you peddled uphill. And fortunately, the entire course was uphill 😑. With zero training, high tops, and a crappy bicycle, I showed up at 6am and ran the course.
It. was. miserable.
I'll never forget coming off the bike trail heading into the final two-mile run. I was exhausted and defeated from the bike ride. Every 200 yards, I had to hop off the bike, flip it over, rearrange the chain, and walk it up a giant hill.
As I headed into the woods, I heard my sister shout "You got it, Dan!" and I almost started crying. Jill had already finished and was cheering me on just to keep putting one foot in front of the other.
With wet socks and heavy legs, I remember finishing and hugging Jill at the finish line. I was overcome with emotion and pride that I completed the gauntlet.
It sounds cheesy, but there's something about overcoming daunting physical or emotional challenges that changes you psychologically, emotionally, and spiritually.
I remember feeling the same way when I did other things in life that probably wouldn't be in the Key Takeaways section of your favorite self-help book:
Moving across the country for "some girl" (who ended up becoming my wife 😉)
High school basketball conditioning drills
Dropping out of college… then re-enrolling in college in my mid-twenties.
Running a half marathon
Asking for a 25% raise
Walking around without a front tooth for 9-months (long story)
Taking a car trip from Maine to Texas with my father, listening to nothing but "Irish rebel songs"
The Heath brothers have a great line in their book: "Speed bumps are reasonable. Mount Everest is not."
As adults, one core ethos we adopt is " being reasonable." We focus on efficiency, comfort, and convenience. Of course, there's value in being responsible, consistent, and reliable, but when these become the sole ethos of our lives, there are certain consequences.
At best, life becomes monotonous and unmemorable. Psychologists have identified a period in our lives called the "reminiscence bump" – an idea that most of our most memorable experiences occur between the ages of 15 and 30. This time in our life contains a ton of novelty – we attend new schools, make new friends, start new jobs, move to new cities, get married, etc. – which tends to slow down our perception of time, capturing the experience in our memory bank. Once we hit 30, we're drastically less likely to make new friends, try new things, or run a fucking duathlon in the pouring rain.
At worst, we face "diseases of despair." It's well documented that 38% of Americans are obese, and more than 40 million have mobility constraints. Heart disease and diabetes are on the rise, and silent killers like depression, anxiety, addiction, and suicide are all increasing. More and more of us seemingly lack a sense of meaning and purpose in our daily lives.
Although these issues are multi-faceted, scientists are finding that certain discomforts and stresses (called eustress) can help guard us from some of the physical, mental, and emotional diseases. Things like exercise or reading Nietzsche.
Reasonable, efficient, or comfortable shouldn't be the goal of our lives, despite the fact that it's in our nature. Humans are wired to follow the path of least resistance. We shouldn't strive not to have problems but to have better problems, not to avoid challenges but to be equipped to handle the challenges we face.
The Japanese have a concept called misogi, which (very) roughly translates to 'water cleansing' – a process where you immerse yourself in cold water or beneath a freezing waterfall to purify the mind, body, and soul.
The concept has expanded into the self-development world, where people challenge themselves to do something ridiculous once per year, like running 100 miles, climbing a mountain in their boxer briefs, or joining the cold plunge movement.
It's a way to physically push yourself beyond your comfort zone to expand your emotional, mental, and spiritual wellbeing. Especially in contemporary times, when you can work in your pajama pants while your soggy breakfast is delivered by somebody you don't even make eye contact with.
I saw a stat the other day that said Americans spend 93% of the time indoors. And if you're like me, you're probably not indoors doing a burpee challenge, developing your social skills, or being pushed beyond your physical, mental, or emotional limits. If you're truly like me, you're just sitting there inhaling popcorn, watching the NBA Play-In Tournament.
The point is that we now live in a time where we rarely, if ever, are being challenged in such a way that dramatically puts us face to face with the weakest parts of ourselves.
Researchers have found that engaging with adversity, taking risks, facing failure, and pushing ourselves beyond what we thought we could handle has tangible benefits for our wellbeing. People who overcome obstacles unsurprisingly have higher life satisfaction, are more resilient, have higher self-esteem, and seemingly experience fewer diseases of despair.
Instead, it's the quiet, persistent stress of deadlines, PowerPoint presentations, relationship strife, and calorie-dense foods that are leading us to a slow drip of despair.
This is important to remember for ourselves and for the people we lead. As coaches and managers, push your people beyond their limits. That doesn't mean emailing them at 1am and constantly piling onto their plate. But it does mean holding them to a high standard and providing direct feedback and direction when applicable. I'm the empathy guy. But we've over-corrected.
On a podcast I was listening to this week, a psychologist pointed to some research that shows more young adults than ever are cutting their parents out of their lives. Ironically, the parents who are getting cut out aren't the ones who were strict, authoritative, or even abusive. It was the well-intended parents who were over-protective. The ones who tried to shield their children from the pain and uncertainty of the world. It turns out that even if authoritarian-style parents weren't liked, they were respected.
I'm not entirely sure what to make of that. I don't think the next best-selling parenting book is going to advocate throwing right-haymakers to be respected.
But it's an important lesson: we're not going to like life's challenges and adversities that punch us in the face, but we desperately need them. They suck, but they're the things that make moments memorable and turn us into stronger human beings.
We all need a Jill in our lives to sign us up for nonsense we don't want to do, and as coaches and leaders, we can be that person for others.