The 1 THING You Need to Start

I can't join that gym, it's full of athletes.

He was in his sixties, a bit over five feet tall, and almost the same around.

He had a big voice, a huge personality, and an monstrous belly.

He lived large and had the profile to prove it.

He was my friend.

He bellowed at me from across the office: "I can't join your gym. It's full of jocks! I'm just going to join at the hotel across the street so I can have a steam and a glass of wine." 

Then he laughed.

Just start.

I was at the gym again this week.

The weight room was full of hockey players and yoga instructors. Young, lean, strong, fit.

Powerful kids doing complicated exercises with grace and ease.  

There was a older man working out with a trainer. 

He was 70? Maybe more?

He was 100 pounds overweight. Easy.

He was sitting on an exercise ball doing exercises under a trainer's watchful eye.

And he was sweating. Hard.

I could tell by the trainer's instructions this man was new to working out, possibly the first time he ever set foot in a gym. 

His movements were stilted and jerky. His breath was labored.

But here's the key: 

• He made up his mind. 
• He ignored the hockey players. 
• He asked for help.

And he started!

I don't know how to start!

I often advise people to just Start by Starting.

Somebody told me recently they don't know 
what...
...or how...
......or where... 
they are supposed to start.

I paused. 
And smiled. 
And this is the story I told her: 

Just start.

Many years ago our family construction company won a contract to build a courthouse. It was by far the biggest project our company had undertaken at that time. 

And we were nervous.

The project was just starting, and our foreman was staring at the mountain of drawings. He later told me he was paralyzed at the sight.

In that moment he heard a concrete truck, backup signal beeping. He poked his head out of the office window and yelled: "what are we pouring?"

"South stairs", the answer echoed back.

He opened the drawings and saw a plug in those stairs. 

He collected his materials.
He calmly walked across the site.
He installed one box for one plug.

With that simple action the project was started. 

You can't climb a mountain in one step.

As he retold the story years later our foreman described how he tried to build the whole building in his head, tried to eat the whole elephant in one bite. 

And it caused him to choke. 

But that first step... 
to install that first box...
broke his paralysis...
propelled him into action...
and put him on the path to climb the mountain. 

Start by starting. 

Now you.

What have you have been putting off? 
What is haunting you or daunting you? 
What is your first step to start?

• Dial their number.
• Draw the first sketch. 
• Type an opening paragraph.
• Approach that person.
• Send out your resume.

The first step is always the worst step. 

But no one ever won a race they didn't enter. 

I may start in the wrong place!

It sounds crazy but it doesn't matter where you start! 

It only matters that you start. 

It's possible - even likely - you will start off in the wrong direction. But the sooner you start the more time you will have to adjust your sails. 

And the sooner you will be celebrating at the finish line.

Just....start.

I'm going to the gym. 
Maybe that old guy will be there.

A Line in the Sand or A Line on the Scorecard

I love golfing with my father. Well, more accurately, he golfs while I spend my time trying to find my ball and scanning the horizon for the beer cart.
But for me those hours together have traditionally been a time for me of learning, listening, sharing and laughing. And it is in those moments of unhurried relationship where he has honored me with some of my most cherished life lessons.

He has a peculiar habit, my father, when he is playing poorly. If he happens to string together several holes of less-than-ideal golf, he will announce "it's time to put a line on the scorecard". And immediately upon recording his score for that hole he will draw a heavy pencil line on the card for all to see. The first time I saw him do this my curiosity got the better of me and I asked the reason. "This marks the hole where I bear down, concentrate more, and play better." And it's the craziest thing: more often than not his score starts improving hole over hole.

I have tried it more than once, putting a line on the scorecard, but it seldom seems to work for me. Probably because I am truly an awful golfer and the mechanical action of drawing of line doesn't make me hit the ball any straighter. As with all other golf appliances, maybe I need an expensive new pencil?

Despite the fact this little habit doesn't work for me at golf, I believe there are fundamental life lessons to be found in this:

1. Honesty: Keeping score in golf is very democratic. Everyone announces their own score and the scorekeeper records them. Consequently, golf is rife with cheaters. A five conveniently becomes a four. (Or in my case a nine would become an eight.) In all my years golfing with him though, I have never known Dad to cheat. And as a result his scorecard sometimes ends up with a string of sixes.
2. Clarity: As a result of his honesty, Dad is able to take an instant and accurate accounting of his game. If he scattered dishonest fives in a row of sixes the self-deceit would undermine the necessity to draw a line. Without honesty, there can be no clarity.
3. Intensity: Dad means it when he says it is time to bear down. The stare gets a little more focused, the concentration before his swing becomes more purified. It doesn't subtract one whit from the joy and fun we have together; it just means in the moments before his turn to hit, the rest of his world fades to black.
4. Accountability: Dad always announces when it is time to draw the line. Everyone in his group is aware when he decides to refocus on his game. Regardless whether his game improves that day, he creates a circle of accountability. 
5. Integrity: Sometimes in golf it just isn't your day. At the end of the game, whether his score improves or not, Dad is the same man. In this he has taught me that golf is a mirror of life: successes and failures should not define who we are, wins and losses should not affect our character.  

People commonly talk about drawing a line in the sand. The problem with drawing in the sand is how quickly the line can be blurred or disappear under the external forces of wind, water, and footprints (sometimes our own). Dad's line on the scorecard is a permanent record for all to see. I remember having lunch with him after a particular round, and laughing because his scorecard that day had TWO lines. And his score that day was as lousy on the last hole as it was on the first. 

Honesty bred clarity. Clarity allowed him to choose his intensity. The permanance of his lines created accountability. And at the end of an unusually awful round his character was intact. Integrity.

Golf is a game of dedication, concentration, execution, and repetition. Guess what: so is life.