A frequent dilemma that we all struggle with to some degree is that our intentions don’t lead to actions, for both important and trivial matters. Either we get started and don’t sustain, or we don’t even begin at all. It is such a common occurrence that sometimes we don’t even realize that it has happened, such as when we start doing a task and hours or days later we realize that we are way off course and may have completely forgotten what the task was altogether.
There are many reasons why this is the case, but one of the most common, and yet least understood, involves our perspective towards this curious notion of will. Simply stated, many of us have been taught or socialized to believe that “if I just will myself to do it”, it will (or should) get done. Of course, this often isn’t the case, and I contend that it is for one huge reason: we as people are way too focused on the will, and not the power, when it comes to willpower.
Consider this. Let’s say I have a brand-new lawnmower, and I set out to mow the yard. But I soon discover that despite everything being in place, and the lawn yearning for a good mow, there’s one problem: the lawnmower has no gas and no oil. Despite having this perfectly good machine, a clear need (overgrown yard), and my intentions in the right place, nothing is going to happen until the proper fuel is put in the mower.
Our lives are much like this, but obviously in a more complicated, multi-faceted way. We are often so enamored and focused on the idea of will that we frequently neglect or don’t fully consider just how important it is to harness (will)power not just in a singular way, but from those four dimensions of our being: social, psychological, physical, and spiritual. My newest book, co-written with Vanessa Jodlowski, goes much deeper into the science, theology, and experience related to this, complete with nine areas of WILLPOWER (corresponding to the acronym) that are available and accessible to all of us daily, no matter our resources or prior experience. The book is entitled Turning Free Will Into Willpower: The Opportunity of a Lifetime
But in the meantime, I want to go back to the issue of power as it pertains to will, and our tendency to neglect this oh, so important piece. To illustrate the multi-faceted nature of (will)power, I am going to use the example of a century bike ride, which over the course of the 100 miles ridden, no doubt taps into these facets in many ways. Having recently been blessed with my 17th year in a row of at least one century ride, I have learned that these adventures teach me as much about life as they do about cycling.
For starters, beyond the goal (100+ miles) and machine (good bike highly recommended), we need to start with the motor, which happens in this example to be, well, me. As a long-time training partner, Dennis, said years ago, it doesn’t matter how expensive of a bike you have−having seen many cyclists and triathletes that look the part, but don’t actually act the part−it’s the motor (you) that matters the most. As it pertains to a century ride, it obviously requires a fair degree of fitness (promoted through regular exercise, natural diet, good sleep habits), but where aspiring century riders often go wrong is that they forget that fitness without regular fuel (hydration, salt intake, dense/digestible calories) from the beginning can turn an auspicious start into a long, slow, painful ride home (or an abbreviated ending altogether).
The same thing applies in life as it pertains to our motor and fuel, in the physical sense. We often simply don’t set up our lives in ways to provide for a level of endurance, and actually the 3 E’s, so that we don’t just start something but that we can see it through. As a super busy, married father of eight kids who is a VP and training director of a sizable, growing program/department, I get the challenge here. But what I have found so often is that people have way more time than they realize. It’s just that we don’t use it in ways that can be both joyful and productive, and thus really miss out on both fulfilling the roles that we are called and embracing the adventures we would enjoy.
But beyond the physical world, there is a huge amount of opportunity that can provide fuel, no matter what kind of athlete or person you are. Back to the century ride, the next critical piece of this was my plan. Although I have done these rides in almost all conditions, this time around I was at a level of fitness in which I could a) do the ride in reasonable temps and b) I could plan the ride (with two brief stops) that would bring me home with the wind either at my back or at least not straight into a headwind. Knowing that the day was going to be quite breezy, I charted a course that took on the wind early, which meant that miles 13-19, over a rather flat, wide-open expanse, turned out to be my toughest miles of the day. While I wasn’t thrilled about this, I knew that this plan would pay dividends on the back end. And it did, when riding that same stretch of road coming back home (now miles 81-87), it was the easiest segment all day, both physically and psychologically.
When it comes to willpower in real life, we often are either in a hurry or we don’t take time to discern a plan that would accomplish the same thing but in a much easier, more enjoyable way. Having been guilty myself many times, it’s almost like we take pride in doing it the hard, stubborn way, and “beat ourselves” (or others) up when it either doesn’t get done or it turns out much different than we hoped. Whether this involves broaching a difficult conversation with a close friend, or how (and when) to engage in helping family members through a difficult situation, it’s ironic (and sad) that we are far more planful when it comes to a vacation, party, or renovation than when it involves the most critical aspects of our lives.
Still, in coming back to the bike ride, there is even more power that is just as mysterious as it is potent. And this involves the power of perspective. I learned long ago that 100 miles truly begins and ends with the number 1−one mile, one segment of road, and even one pedaling revolution. While it’s important to not let go of the ultimate goal, focusing and even obsessing over this can derail you from the beginning. Instead, I offer two critical notions of perspective that translate beautifully into real life: segmenting and mountain climbing. With regard to segmenting, the best way to take on a century is to be planful about what is to come, but put your heart and soul in the segment that is now. As it pertains to my century, I mentally broke up my ride into 12 segments, the longest of which was roughly 12 miles in length (the shortest being 6). In doing so, the century ride quickly became not about 100 miles but rather about just taking care of that segment, which mentally was so much easier. With each segment done, the final goal became that much more real.
Relatedly, I learned a really neat perspective trick years ago involving climbing the mountain (of any part) of life. Whenever you set out on a long adventure (planned or unplanned), never, never consider that the adventure will be complete when you reach the “top of the mountain.” Rather as all mountaineers know, it doesn’t end until you are back at the bottom. If you have never used this visual and mental trick, I promise that it really works to make tough situations easier. So, when at the point when I reached the turnaround at 50.2 miles, I immediately visualized myself reaching the peak, giving thanks for this, and then starting down the mountain, until I reached the bottom again. Throughout the ride, visualizing myself at different places climbing and descending, I could palpably see the progress being made.
Segmenting and the mountain perspective are so important in finding the power of will in our daily life. It’s so easy to get overwhelmed and disenchanted by all the demands and tasks in front us, or even the aspirations or meaningful life events that lie ahead, and feel that it is just too long and arduous to finish. Instead, when we seek to find joy in the simplest of tasks that are broken up accordingly, and can envision a “finish line” standing above instead of below it, suddenly the marathons of our lives seem all that much more attainable.
Still, as our pyramid of power goes even deeper, I will end with the indomitable, indefatigable power of connection and love. The morning of my century ride, Rose Weiss was being laid to rest after almost a century of life on this planet. Rose grew up in the small town of Cynthiana, less than a mile away from where I passed twice on my ride. As a staunch German Catholic who became the valedictorian of the long since shuttered Cynthiana High School, her family would undoubtedly say that her work ethic, persistence, and humility were just a small part of the incredible legacy that she left to so many that she loved. As I spoke with my aunt Tammy about Rose’s final days, in which she seemingly “hung on” so that all of her family members had an extended excuse to spend time together, I was struck by the undying power that a life such as hers has. For 100 miles, I could feel Rose’s presence as I prayed for her and her family, and reflected on what her life meant to me and others. As each of the miles passed by, I envisioned her life from birth on through the ages, until she finally passed her last breath with her beloved at her bedside.
And if that wasn’t enough, as I was rolling through the countryside that she had come to know so well, I imagined a bright, white line of spirituality being laid down on the road with each revolution of my tires, from the moment I left my home, to when I turned around just before Bonpas Creek just south of the tiny hamlet of Cowling, Illinois, on Highway 1−and then back home. As I turned around for the second half of my ride, I could literally see the line that had extended a half of century from the early morning twilight when I was seemingly all alone but never was. Through all of the toil, the wind, the hills, the miles, and even the nagging discomfort of my sciatic nerve, I never lost sight of that spiritual line that started with one revolution out, and came with one revolution back in. As I arrived at my house, the Mass of Christian Burial for Rose was coming to a close. The family was preparing to say their final goodbyes as the westerly breeze blew through the hills of St. Joseph where she would be buried that day. I wasn’t there in person, but in many ways, I was there more than I could have imagined to be.
In life, it’s great to have good intent and a strong will. But without a pyramid of power, grounded on a base of spirituality that’s always coursing through those physical, psychological, and social dimensions that make us so real and so raw, we are going to repeatedly find ourselves staring at a starting point, or frustrated over a finish line, that seems unattainable. But when we heed God’s design of the most precious, malleable gift−that of free will−we soon realize that the hundred miles, or a hundred years in front of us (if we are so blessed), need not be a marathon of mundanity (or even misery) but rather a pyramid of possibility.
I’d like to think it was for Rose, even through all the trials and hardships she faced. As she was passing from this life to another, surrounded by family members in those final moments, I dare to consider that she was undergoing one final, earthly moment of lucidity; that from the first light of a new life to the closing darkness of one that is passing on, that the possibilities of humanity were transforming into the promises of eternity, all one unbroken line in the twilight of a new dawn.
