progress

When Progress Means Backward Motion

Progress.

I’ve always liked that word because progress feels like I’m doing something. Something important. Something that matters. Progress means I’m going someplace good.

And making progress is fun because it’s the physical embodiment of that up-and- to-the-right graph that’s prized by researchers the world over.

But thinking about progress can also invoke fear. As a kid, I dreaded the progress report sent home by teachers every four and a half weeks. Was I “on track?” Was I “a joy to have in class?” Did I “spend too much time talking?” That report told me exactly where I stood at that exact moment in time.

So progress is good, but also scary. How much progress we’ve made has implications in a wide variety of fields. We want to see forward movement. That’s why I was surprised a couple of weeks ago when I heard Adam Grant as a guest on Hidden Brain talking about how progress sometimes means going backward.

Wait. What?

Going Back

He said that in order to progress, you need to imagine alternative realities, and sometimes that means you will have to change the way you do things. For example, he said, suppose you want to become a faster typist, but you’ve spent your whole life hunting and pecking. You can hunt and peck all you want, but you’ll never be as fast as the person who learned how to use the keyboard by memorizing the home row and going from there. When you’re introduced to this new way of typing, you’re going to be pretty slow…at first. And that’s okay. You WILL get faster because the new and improved process of learning and the system it utilizes insures a faster typing speed.

Adam said,

Progress rarely happens in a straight line. It typically unfolds in loops. Day by day, it can feel like you're spinning your wheels.

The Downside of Accountability

After a fancy dinner at The Optimist last week, I told my family I was going to “up” my cooking game. No doubt there will be many kitchen disasters on my way to gourmet chef. To be sure, every meal doesn’t have to be a culinary work of art—even though I want it to be! Trying new techniques might feel like wasting ingredients. Taste is nuanced and personal. Everyone in my family can’t be expected to like everything I make.

I used to be a part of a cohort of entrepreneurs. The people in that group proved to be great accountability partners, but our monthly meetings left me feeling pressured to report only what was going well. That wasn’t the intention, of course. My own insecurity is what kept me from being totally vulnerable about the things I tried that didn’t work. But now I know what it means to “fail forward.” What we learn through failure makes the next step possible.

If this is the year that you’ve resolved either to try something new or to get better at something you’re already doing, I hope you find the idea of going backward for a time as a bit of encouragement. I know that doing so feels like the opposite of progress, but when you approach the experience with curiosity about what you can learn through the process, the pain of going backwards feels a little more bearable.

The Science Behind the Theory

I want to leave you with this final thought, and it’s a scientific principle that we can apply to life. A lot of people think speed and velocity are the same thing. The reality is that speed is how fast you’re going, but velocity is how fast you’re going in a specific direction. Adam Grant said that progress can feel like spinning your wheels, and it can if you’re not paying attention to direction.

We all want progress. But..if you are on the wrong road, progress means doing an about-turn and walking back to the right road; and in that case, the man who turns back soonest is the most progressive man.—CS Lewis

Keep going, my friend. Just remember that going backwards might be just the direction you need to take right now.

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Keep Going

We just moved, and you haven’t heard from me in awhile. I’ve been busy unpacking boxes and hanging pictures. In between all that boring stuff, though, I’ve taken a few walks. We live right by this amazing trail system, and the other day I took my dog out for a hike. Lots of people were out and about—kids on skateboards, couples holding hands, and families on bikes.

I passed a dad and his two daughters on bikes. One of the daughters, about six years old, was walking with her bike, had just thrown it down, and was crying, “I can’t! I can’t do it! I’m not going!” And she sat down right in the middle of the path and let it wail. I came upon the family at exactly this moment. The dad sighed. He got off his bike. I kept walking, but I could hear her crying even from a long way off. And it wasn’t getting any quieter.

The thing is, I knew something that this little girl didn’t know. I knew exactly how far she had to go to get to the end of the trail. I also knew that there was no way her dad could manage his own bike, his daughter, and his daughter’s bike. No matter how long she sat there and cried, eventually she was going to have to get up and get moving. No one was going to carry her. The only way forward was to pick up the bike, get on it, and pedal.

And I began to think about all of us, grownups participating in some version of this hissy fit. Tired of wearing masks. Tired of taking meetings via Zoom. Tired of everything being either canceled or delayed because of Covid 19.

But let’s be honest. We were complaining about our lives long before we had time on our hands to really get upset about it. I can think of lots of times over the past year when I’ve wanted to press pause on my life. None of us needs a pandemic to catapult our lives into panic mode. Have you ever said, “I can’t! I can’t do it! I’m not going to go!” ?

But not going isn’t an option. The only way forward is through.

Ultimately, that must have been what happened with our friend on the pavement because by the time I got to the end of the trail, turned around and came back, the bike family was nowhere to be seen. My guess is that the dad laid down his bike and offered his daughter a hand. Perhaps he held her for a few minutes. Wiped her tears. Gave her a kiss. Offered her a drink of water. And then with renewed sustenance and vigor, she got back on the bike and kept going.

Pain is temporary.

And so, as with all journeys, there is something to be said for taking this approach: just keep going. I know I will have to pause at times. I know I won’t always be able to go as fast as I want to go. I know some hills will appear too tall to climb. Perhaps I will have to get off my bike and walk it for awhile. Or maybe I’ll have to find an alternate route. But if I keep going I can imagine that in a few months or a few years, the world won’t always feel like this. And if I keep pedaling, I can guarantee that in a few months or a few years I will certainly be stronger than I am today.

One of the most fascinating things about life is that we willingly inflict pain on ourselves in order to increase our strength, but when pain is inflicted upon us, we want to sprawl in the road and cry.

So keep going. The only way forward is THROUGH. Pain is temporary, but progress makes us stronger.

And strength is a valuable virtue.

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(Special thanks to our friends at Boosterthon for making it possible.)