How do you know when you're done?

Jul 26

One of my favorite interview questions has always been “How do you know when you’re done?” I want to know if you know when to say 'this will work', 'good enough', or 'safe to try' and get on with things. In my line of work, perfectionism is impossible. The teams I work with study and impact human behavior. Human behavior is imperfect and unpredictable at best. I need team members with sound judgement to be able to flex, roll, and adjust often (with compassion and humor whenever possible).

I’ve never considered myself a perfectionist. An excellentist…yes, for sure. I set high standards for most efforts. Perfectionists get paralyzed when the journey or potential outcome doesn’t look as they planned it to be. They endlessly tweak and expend much energy for little gain. Excellentists know that all plans are inherently flawed. They make larger decisions that resolve problems or invent a better way. The ability to evolve plans in the moment with the intention of still producing a quality experience or product is critical. Perfectionists need to follow a map. Excellentists are cool with a compass.

This triathlon training has been much the same. Our team of 58 women have practiced and trained and planned for 3 months. The race is on Sunday at 7:24am. It won’t be perfect, but I know it will be excellent.

I now ask myself, “How do I know I am done with training and ready for this triathlon?”

If we were hosting a party, I would know we were ready when the food was made, house was cleaned and the mailbox was sufficiently pressure washed (…oh husband…sigh).

Here are the top 10 signs that tell me I’m ready…

10. My coaches told me I was ready. I can swim, bike, and run/walk the distance needed …with minimal harm to myself and others. We have only ever completed two of the three athletic events during practice. These drills are called BRicks (bike, run, …ick!) They are intended to get us practiced at the transition process and comfortable with the fact that our legs will feel like raw boneless chicken once we dismount our bikes and begin our runs. I recently heard that those training for a marathon rarely run 26.2 miles during a single practice. They trust that their preparation and consistent training will make them ready for the whole of it.

9. My sports injury is healed. Yes, I received my first sports injury… ever… training for this triathlon. I was getting ready for strength training and wanted to remove my wedding ring. I dislocated my finger in the process. My husband’s concerned response… “That’ll teach ya.”

8. My transition bucket is packed. The ability to transition from one activity to the other (quickly) is key in a triathlon. Think of it like 'Athlete OCD'. Socks are rolled and placed in shoes, shoe laces are replaced with lock laces…no tying required, and items are laid on our homemade transition mats (thanks TP Sarah!) in the order of need and in the name of speed. The space you are given to display these items is tiny. Basically, you have the area directly under your rear bike tire once it’s elevated on the bike rack. Those who know me, know I like to spread out (read ‘head-butt Sweet Marie in swim lane’ blog). This has been a lesson in orderly minimalism. I’ll be packing Benjamin’s for teammates willing to sell their real estate.

7. I can swim in seaweed. Favorite Mermaid, Joan, says “it’s just salad.” I can work with that.

6. I know how to motivate myself on the running path. Another TP sister says to “just run to the next flower…and the next tree…and the next Starbucks.”

5. I have the vision, of finishing, firmly in my head. We have practiced crossing finish lines and taking victory pictures. I have been hugged, high-fived, and encouraged more in these past 3 months than in the whole of my life since Kindergarten. I have passed dozens of chalk drawings on pathways throughout southeastern Wisconsin telling me that “You can do it!” or “Almost there!” We have been congratulated for breathing. We have seen the pride on the staff’s face with the smallest and largest of accomplishments. If we took these lessons back to our families, our work, our communities (the White House)….wow… the possibilities!

4. I know that when I finish this race, my teammates will be there cheering me on. We have an agreement that the team stays at the finish line until every one of the 58 women crosses. Amazing right? Now, about that… in practice we have chanted the names of our teammates as they’ve approached the end of their journey. This is all for encouragement and support of course. Some of us thrive on that...others cringe. If I am last, I think I might prefer a more discreet victory. I just watched an inspiring video of a marathoner (John) in his last 200 meters of the race…clearly struggling. A spectator/stranger joined him on the course …running by his side while offering words of encouragement. All of a sudden, the race announcer starts calling out his name, home state, and more words of encouragement over an echoing loud speaker for all to hear …those in his hometown of Calgary heard this. It was a play-by-play to the end. The announcer was trying to be helpful, but this would mortify me. I was once locked in a Taco Bell bathroom while on a first date in college. Now, there are all sorts of things wrong with that sentence, I know. But bottom line, instead of pounding the door with the hopes that the 16-year-old burrito-maker would rescue me; I waited quietly until my date came to check on his date. Then Al, as a last resort, called the fire department where I experienced the full-on mortification of being rescued. John took the announcer’s efforts in stride in the video...but... if I'm last, this Bad-Bass wants to limp to the line incognito. Thus, several of my TP sisters have made a pact. If any of us finishes near last… our name is Norma (right Peggy, Joan, Carrie???). Shout ‘Norma’ as you see us coming in…and we will know we are loved.

3. I know there are rules to follow. There are a LOT of rules in a triathlon. You must wear the swim cap you are given on race day. Your bib number must be displayed during the run and in the front. Helmets must be fastened on your head before you touch your bike. There are bike mount/dismount lines that can’t be crossed. No help from non-race officials while racing. No drafting while on your bike (this one is for you, Joanie Pelotonie). Those who know me, know that I think most rules are merely suggestions. This will be a lesson for me. This entire journey has been a lesson in followership. One that I wish many leaders would get the opportunity to have more often.

2. I know how to eat before and during race day. All this time I have been trying to reduce sugar and eliminate carbs and these damn athletes eat the stuff straight out of a pouch! Who knew???

1. I received my Triathlon jersey...during an incredible ceremony where each athlete was called by name and handed their new uniform amidst cheers and tears. Coach Kristin (one who you expect to belt out "Do you want to build a snowman?" at any moment...) asked a classroom full of her 6 and 7 year olds what advice they would give to this amazing group of women who've worked so hard for the last 3 months. She then typed up the words on posters and as she read them, had our staff members hold them up in front of us. More ugly crying to be had by all. The symbolism of the jersey ceremony speaks volumes and the honor of being on this team, though it has the most horrifying of inclusion criteria …is humbling.

Bottom line, I know I am ready. I feel strong. I’m ready to have fun and earn my celebration. I’m looking forward to the experience. I want to be with my teammates on Sunday at 7:24am as we break into the water and perform like the athletes we were trained to be!

This blog is dedicated to my teammates. It’s been an incredible honor to meet you, to learn your heart-wrenching stories of bravery, and to train side by side with you. S.P.A.R. [F.]!