Dance parties and rock climbing

A few weeks ago I was babysitting my nieces. On this particular night, they decided that a dance contest would need to be part of the evening festivities. Therefore, they brought out their Barbie stereo, started blasting the pop music, and began to get their groove on. Once they'd all had a turn to do impromptu routines, they wanted me to tell them who had been the best dancer. I compromised and told them each one which category they were best in.

If they'd been normal kids, they may have accepted that and just moved on. But of course, these girls are Slades, which means that part of their DNA tells them their main objective in life is to be the winner--not a winner. The winner. We tease my older sister about her competitive streak as a ten-year-old when she'd play herself at Monopoly; one of her pieces would be for Kashia Winner and the other would be for Kashia Loser, so that even when the rest of us kids didn't want to play, Kashia could make sure she'd have a competitor she could dominate.

It's taken many years for me to realize how competitive I am. I think the main reason I'm not a huge fan of playing sports is that I'm not naturally athletic which means I usually won't win. I guess as much as I'd try to say "I'm in it just for fun," I really haven't tried out many activities where I felt like I'd always be losing. There are exceptions, but in general I've avoided things that might have been fun, not because I didn't think I'd enjoy them but because I couldn't be one of the best, or at least one of the better ones at it.

Last week I went rock climbing in Rock Canyon with some awesome people, and after making our first climb, we went to a portion called "the Kitchen." I was so tired that I couldn't get all the way to the top, even though it's a fairly short climb that takes most people 30 seconds at the most. I definitely tried about 20 times. After I finished my attempts, I watched other members of the group tackle the Kitchen and reach the top in about 30 seconds. Then I watched as one member of our group took on a part of the wall that was more difficult. He was using handholds and footholds that I couldn't have used, and of course he had a whole lot more muscle than I did.

Still, in that particular run he would get to some point, try to move up, fall off the wall, then try again.

Eventually he made it to the top. When he came down, I told him I was impressed with his climbing. He said it just came down to failing again and again, but working through the failure and trying again and again. I keep thinking back to that climb, and I realize that failing and trying again is something I'm not very good at. I like to win on the first try, or at least do all right--which I think everyone does. But instead of acknowledging that it would be nice to be great on the first try but not very realistic to expect that of myself, I just avoid activities that I would fail at. Rock climbing is one of the first things I've picked up a little where I can fail and fail and fail but still keep working on; it's one of the first activities where I've been able to see that just consistently putting in effort does pay off.

I'm really kind of sad for all the opportunities to fail that I've lost over the years. Really, I am sad--while I know I might have tried something out and just hated the experience partly because I was failing at it, I could have learned a long time ago that it's okay to fail. That is a lesson that I'm still learning. I'm not sure that my nieces are quite ready to be told they fail at something, but at least they have something going for them--I'm almost 20 years older than them, but they're already better dancers than me. Maybe when they're my age they'll be ready to fail also.