Years ago...I read an article in a magazine devoted to mountain bikes. The article was about things that you could do to improve your riding skills. The part that stands out in memory talked about always looking where you want the bike to go to avoid spills. I kind of dismissed the thought as being kind of silly.
Several days later I was riding my bike through a parkway that led to an undeveloped area I liked to practice in. The parkway has concrete sidewalks with lots of curves. Crushed granite covered the ground on either side of the sidewalks. I enjoyed this part of my practice because I could go fast on the pavement. As I approached one of the curves I sensed I was a little closer to the edge than usual and I wanted to avoid going off into the crushed granite.
As I approached the curve, I allowed my gaze to wander into the crushed granite to the left because I wanted to avoid going there. Much to my surprise, the front wheel followed my gaze. Right off into the crushed granite and exactly where I wanted to avoid going! The front wheel left the pavement and the knobby tire fought to gain traction in the loose stones. The handlebars were jerked out of my hands and I went sailing over the bars, landing face down on the pavement, sliding another twenty feet on my chest, outstretched arms and fronts of my legs.
I immediately developed a bad case of pavement rash. Stunned, I slowly stood up assessing my condition. My palms and bottoms of my arms were starting to bleed. I looked down at my legs and saw something new on the front of my shirt. It was blood dripping from my chin. Of course the fronts of both thighs were beginning to seep blood.
I picked up my bike and decided to slowly ride back to the house and take care of my new rash. It was on the way back to the house that I recalled the suggestion in the article I mention at the beginning of this post. Instead of looking where I wanted to go, I looked at what I wanted to avoid. Half chuckling to myself, I realized the author was right after all.
Sometime later I re-read the article, probably while recovering from the road rash. I recalled another story I had read about someone who took a class on driving a race car. Part of the class involved intentionally putting the car into a slide and attempting to recover while keeping the car on the pavement. New students almost always failed to keep the car on the track the first few tries at this. The author said that the instructors warned students in advance to keep looking around the curve, focusing on where they wanted the car to go. They added that new students always looked off the edge of the pavement, exactly where they didn't want to end up.
The author thought this would be pretty easy until it was his turn and he found himself sitting in the dirt with the car facing the wrong way. When he played his mental tape of the spinout, he realized that when the slide began, his gaze went straight to the side of the track. To where he didn't want to go and it felt like some mysterious force pushed the car into the dirt. After several more trips into the weeds, he was finally able to avert his eyes and turn his gaze to the roadway ahead and was amazed at the result. He was accelerating out of the turn and on the blacktop. Exactly where he wanted to be.
These two examples of riding and driving are a lot like life. How often do we focus our attention on the things we don't want and wonder why we got exactly what we didn't want?
This peculiar phenomena has to do with the way our subconscious processes information. If you were to think, "I don't want to fail, the subconscious only sees "fail." It thinks that is what you want and goes to work trying to create failure. If, instead you think, "I want to succeed," then it goes to work trying to create success.
As I approached the curve, I allowed my gaze to wander into the crushed granite to the left because I wanted to avoid going there. Much to my surprise, the front wheel followed my gaze. Right off into the crushed granite and exactly where I wanted to avoid going! The front wheel left the pavement and the knobby tire fought to gain traction in the loose stones. The handlebars were jerked out of my hands and I went sailing over the bars, landing face down on the pavement, sliding another twenty feet on my chest, outstretched arms and fronts of my legs.
I immediately developed a bad case of pavement rash. Stunned, I slowly stood up assessing my condition. My palms and bottoms of my arms were starting to bleed. I looked down at my legs and saw something new on the front of my shirt. It was blood dripping from my chin. Of course the fronts of both thighs were beginning to seep blood.
I picked up my bike and decided to slowly ride back to the house and take care of my new rash. It was on the way back to the house that I recalled the suggestion in the article I mention at the beginning of this post. Instead of looking where I wanted to go, I looked at what I wanted to avoid. Half chuckling to myself, I realized the author was right after all.
Sometime later I re-read the article, probably while recovering from the road rash. I recalled another story I had read about someone who took a class on driving a race car. Part of the class involved intentionally putting the car into a slide and attempting to recover while keeping the car on the pavement. New students almost always failed to keep the car on the track the first few tries at this. The author said that the instructors warned students in advance to keep looking around the curve, focusing on where they wanted the car to go. They added that new students always looked off the edge of the pavement, exactly where they didn't want to end up.
The author thought this would be pretty easy until it was his turn and he found himself sitting in the dirt with the car facing the wrong way. When he played his mental tape of the spinout, he realized that when the slide began, his gaze went straight to the side of the track. To where he didn't want to go and it felt like some mysterious force pushed the car into the dirt. After several more trips into the weeds, he was finally able to avert his eyes and turn his gaze to the roadway ahead and was amazed at the result. He was accelerating out of the turn and on the blacktop. Exactly where he wanted to be.
These two examples of riding and driving are a lot like life. How often do we focus our attention on the things we don't want and wonder why we got exactly what we didn't want?
This peculiar phenomena has to do with the way our subconscious processes information. If you were to think, "I don't want to fail, the subconscious only sees "fail." It thinks that is what you want and goes to work trying to create failure. If, instead you think, "I want to succeed," then it goes to work trying to create success.
If you are frustrated or find your goals hard to meet or are constantly facing roadblocks to what you really want, ask yourself this question. "Am I focusing my attention on what I don't want?" You might want to change your focus and start focusing on what your really do want. If you don't know what you want, take some quiet time and make a list of some of the things you want to do, be and have.
Start by asking the question, "What do I really want?" The answers may surprise you. The results may surprise you even more.
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