Member Article

Wisdom - The Killer App

I was huffing and puffing my way around the course. The road felt harder than I ever imagined it could, and hotter. Boy, was I sweating. Uh — oh, I’m on my own now and I don’t quite know which way to go. Umm, I’ll head off in that direction, I can see some runners over there. So I cut through the tree lined median and join the back of the pack of runners. They were running too fast for me, so I was left in the dust pretty quickly. But, within minutes I was rounding a corner and headed towards what looked like the finish line. It was the finish line. Thank God! I don’t think my lungs could take any more, 5K was longer than I imagined.

Wait, what?

Their pulling a yellow ribbon across the line….for me?! I wasn’t first, so this was a little confusing. But, hey — I wasn’t going to argue. I sprinted the last 100 meters and burst through the yellow ribbon.

Just as I crossed the line, I was approached by a judge holding a trophy and accompanied by a photographer.

“Wow, that’s an amazing time son! We are glad to have you in our race. You have just won the under 16 category. Can we take your picture for the paper?“

“Of course!“ I say, through my heavy breathing.

But, in the back of my mind I am trying to figure out how I won my division on my first try when I was clearly behind many of the other kids at the start. Yep, you guessed it, that turn I made over the median took me from mile 1.5 to 2.5 in 50 meters. Elation turned to fear as I was thinking about giving back the trophy and admitting I had made a huge error. Or was I cheating? What would they think? And are those guys over there pointing at me, discussing my cheating ways. Dear God, get me out of here!

I quickly strolled over to where my Dad agreed to pick me up, a few blocks away and luckily around a corner. No, I didn’t take the trophy with me — I set it on the judges table as I got a cup of water and meandered away around the corner. Awkward.

I never went back to explain to anyone how I managed such a good finishing time and I never found out if they printed my picture in the paper. I suspect not. Well, I hope not.

———————-

I have been thinking about this story lately. A lot.

After recently coming out of a 12 month journey into the deep dark woods of fear, uncertainty, and doubt, I failed. I failed at my first attempt at a start up in 3 years. I failed in my Kickstarter campaign for a book I wrote while coming out of the woods. And I failed again miserably at my second attempt of a start-up a few months later. I could feel my mojo, what little I had regained after my trip into the woods, slipping away like a boat floating away from a dock.

But now, I’m onto something awesome. I broke things quickly and pivoted with greater speed with each fail. And all of this failing took 6 months. Hardly a blip in the scheme of things, but each day seems to have lasted a lifetime. Now that I have found my groove, the days are too short!

And the reasons for the fails, even with my considerable experience? Lots. But, I think they all shared a common trait. Impatience. Yep, that friend of the young, but enemy of building the remarkable. Once I dumped the idea that start-ups have shortcuts, like in my ill-fated first running race, everything seemed to start working again. And I felt better.

And then I read an article today with a 19 year old worried that no one is reading his writing on Medium.

Really? Is this what we are doing to our bright sparks. Are we telling them that success is only a few clicks away? Or are they just kids with no idea about the world?

I think it’s the former. We own this problem. I’m sorry, we do.

If you read an article about Instagram being valued at $1,000,0000,000 after 12 months of trading — what are you supposed to think? Sure, they may have reached that valuation in 12 months of trading, but we don’t think it’s sexy to tell you about the 5–8 years it took to arrive at the idea, gather the team, and most importantly reach this place in time. For some reason, we do not value the journey — just the result.

We are setting the wrong expectations for our young bright sparks. So how do we fix this? No. I’m not in favour telling stories like:

“I walked to school uphill both ways, in the snow, with no shoes.“

But, I wonder if we could try to share a bit of wisdom with young people. Heck, us oldies control much of the media — we decide, to a large degree what their brains eat.

What would that wisdom look like?

I’m not exactly sure, but the things I tell my 11 year old when he is not playing minecraft (which is a great game for building patience) include:

There is value in doing meaningful work. There is value in the journey. And there is no such thing as a destination, only so many hills and valleys to explore. And most importantly — remarkable doesn’t happen overnight, because anything worth doing is usually difficult.

I hope it signals to my son that there is a lifetime of adventure ahead and not to worry to much in the short term. But I worry he can see what we couldn’t 30 years ago; everyone else. When you can see everyone else and they can filter your perception, you might end up a little disappointed in your own efforts — because their achievements seem to occur without effort.

Perhaps we could try an experiment. Let’s talk to young people in a way that is optimistic, positive and yet laced with wisdom they can absorb. The kind of wisdom they will only acknowledge in private, but will use — a lot. The kind of wisdom that helps them create a world of their own making.

Wisdom that helps them stay on the journey, not cutting across the median.

What is this origin of this wisdom and where does it come from?

————- I’m Todd Hannnula, and I write about the education revolution, entrepreneurship, and an eclectic mix of stuff you might like. Check me out on Medium or simply google me to get going.

This was posted in Bdaily's Members' News section by Todd Hannula .