The Difference Between Resting and Quitting?

Permission.

But first, a quick backstory. I had never really thought about this until today during spin class. After we’d been sprinting flat-out for about two minutes (at the end of an hour-long class), she said quite flatly, anyone who gives up is a quitter.

I said in my most matter-of-fact internal voice. Not where I come from. Stopping now would be about resting and preventing a potential knee-blow-out.

I have a habit of verbally asserting my point of view when anything is being presented to me as fact that sounds remarkably like opinion and bogus opinion at that.

I used to do this in church every time the minister would talk about the one and only son of God. It just always seemed unlikely that there weren’t also some daughters and maybe a few more sons – maybe even everyone. But, I digress.

At the time she said this I had my eyes closed concentrating on putting in my 110%. But after she said it, I opened them with the full intention of slowing down and resting. I can be, occasionally, contrarian.

But while still blazing full speed ahead, something surprising happened.

A parallel landscape of future universe opened up before me.

Our son Leo will be trying out for the World Series Lacrosse Team in our area. The odds are low. A lot of kids want it. And there’s only one try-out on a Sunday night after a late night Bar Mitzvah Saturday night. So, it’s a long-shot.

However, we are an against all odds family. We do whatever we are passionate about whether it makes sense or not. Whether we can afford it or not. Whether we have the experience or not. And usually, not.

As parents, we’re good either way. If he makes it, what an honor and we’d be planning a family trip to Denver. If not, frees up a lot of time that we get to spend in our beautiful town.

We’ve told him, his chance of making it is equal to his passion, practice and perseverance.

We are go-getters.

But as I opened my eyes in spin, feeling kind of wiped out and irritated by our teacher’s seeming insensitivity to how hard some of us might already be working, I thought what if Leo gets tired midway through try-outs, or feels somehow temporarily defeated… should he quit? Rest?

What should he do? What should I do?

So I asked myself to forget what the instructor said, to check in with my body, to see if beyond my immediate feeling of tired… if I had any extra reserve? Any untapped umph? But these questions just felt like more pressure. I felt tricked, coerced, whipped – like a misbehaving show pony.

And then I did something seriously radical for me.

I gave myself permission to rest.

Not the fake kind served with a wallop of judgment.

But the kind of permission that is an extension of genuine kindness. The kind, that if you are able, makes you want to double down and work even harder. And the kind, if you have nothing left, offers compassion and understanding.

And as I offered myself permission, my legs started pedaling faster and I felt a seemingly endless reserve of energy. A reserve I never could have accessed by pushing harder. Kindness.

To persevere with whole-hearted passion we must act with kindness.