Do you remember winter?
For those of us in the US, it’s becoming a distant memory (if we had it at all). But one particular winter experience has stuck with me even into spring.
I never imagined hiking in the snow, but it was one of the great discoveries of Colorado living. It amazed me that you can put spikes on your hiking shoes and confidently stride on icy, wet slopes or an inch or two of snow.
So there I was in Rocky Mountain National Park hiking past beautiful snowy frozen lakes. It was going along fine until we were crossing the side of a slope and my foothold became uncertain. Every step felt like a calculated risk.
This, I thought, is not fun.
Do I keep going and hope for the best? Or say something? There were so many reasons not to speak up. I wanted my new hiking friends to see me as capable. Easy to hike with. Worth inviting back.
But I did speak up: “Hey,” I said, “I’m not comfortable on this terrain. Can we go back?”
Everyone was gracious, and as it turned out, we were almost through the tricky section anyway.
But for a moment I felt like I’d failed a test.
Nothing about that situation required me to prove myself. No one was evaluating me. And yet, I felt it – that pressure to get it right.
It’s like at work when this pressure can make you feel like you’re always giving a performance. Like you need to have the perfect answer, be absolutely prepared, or prove again and again that you belong.
And, it can become a vicious circle because the performance mindset can get in the way of what actually makes your endeavors effective – and enjoyable.
The antidote to performative pressure? I’ve coached it, and it came back to me on that hike:
This is not an audition.
It’s practice.
My first time hiking in these conditions – new terrain, both literally and figuratively. Of course it felt uncertain. Of course I didn’t know exactly what to do. Over time, I’ll learn the equipment, the footing, the feel of it.
This is practice, and it sounds like:
I’m here to learn.
I’m here to contribute.
I belong here.
At work, and as a leader, it’s probably unrealistic to assume you aren’t being evaluated, because you usually are to some extent.
But you can still practice practicing, in small moments:
What would you do if you weren’t trying to prove yourself?
What would you ask directly – or not have to explain?
What would be different if you walked into the meeting assuming you belonged?
Over time, you may find it easier to choose practice over performance, and potentially enjoy yourself more in the bargain.
Back to the hike, something I didn’t expect: after I spoke up, someone in the group thanked me. They appreciated that I’d said something. It was better to be real.
It turns out that practicing Rachel is also better company than performing Rachel.
