The Risk of Success

I went over the instructions in my head as I waited apprehensively in the water.   Sitting position.  Arms straight.  Knees bent.  Skis tipped up.  I repeated these commands to myself in a chant-like fashion.  It wasn’t that the instructions were that hard to remember it was that I was trying to drown out the other chant that was beating like a bass drum.  I can’t do this.  I can’t do this.  I really can’t do this.

It was a beautiful Saturday afternoon on Lake Cumberland.  From my vantage point, the water looked as smooth as glass, just as the other skiers had described it.  The boat slowly circled around and the rope was tossed out to me.  I grabbed it and tried to focus on my instructions.  My heart was beating wildly in my chest.  My breathing was too rapid and shallow.  Calm down, I told myself.  It’s just water skiing. 

The mantra in my head continued.  I can’t do this.  I can’t do this.  I really cannot do this!

The up-until-now quiet boat motor suddenly roared into life.  Angry frothy white water churned in front of me and the boat tipped its nose up and out of the lake.  My rope went taut. 

Sitting position.  Arms straight.  Skis up.  And for God’s sake calm down.  Just breathe.  All of this went through my mind in the split seconds before I found myself being dragged up and out of the water.  And just like that, I was up on my skis.  That is the precise moment when I dropped the rope.

The boat quickly circled back around to me.  “You were up! Why did you drop the rope!?” my friends called out exasperated.  They tossed the rope to me again, insistent that I could ski on the next try.  We repeated this same procedure over and over until I finally convinced them, and myself, that I simply could not waterski.  To say that I was bull-headed back then would be an understatement.

My husband has told this story many times over the years with the same exasperated tone in his voice.   He has never understood why I dropped the rope over and over again when I was so close to succeeding.  Frankly, I never really understood it myself.  Until recently. 

You see, I never really believed that I could ski and I was petrified of trying.  So I didn’t try. Sure, I went through the motions so that everyone would believe that I made an attempt.  But I knew something that they did not.  I knew going into the water that I was not going to give this endeavor a fair shot.  I knew that I could outlast them in my failure long before they could ever force me into succeeding.  Even with their best intentions and encouraging words they could not lure me out of my firmly entrenched belief of not being able to accomplish something.

I have thought about the significance of this incident many times over the years.  The story comes up occasionally among friends and on the surface it is a funny story.  It’s funny because I know that I frustrated the hell out of everyone on the boat that day. 

But it has also been a pain point of mine.  For years I told everyone, including myself, that I didn’t want to ski and that’s why I continually dropped the rope.  But the glaring truth is that I wanted to ski more than anything in the world but my fear of trying was greater than my risk of success.  Yes, I said the risk of success.  Because success can be a risky thing.  There is safety in staying where you are.  There was safety in staying in the water.  And you cannot be pulled into success by someone else.   You must believe in yourself first for your belief in yourself is the foundation of every success you will have in the future. This lesson has taken me a lifetime to learn.  As I said I can be stubborn.  But now I channel my stubbornness into commitment.  A commitment to believing in myself and not letting the fear of trying disrupt the incredible and delicious riskiness of success.