I recently went for a walk with a friend. As I near the age of 60, walking has become my effort in delaying the mobility issues with aging. I should say, MY mobility issues with aging. Some people are still running at 60. I wasn’t running when both knees had full padding, so pretty sure I’m not going to take it up now.
Our walk started out at a brisk pace, to which I’m used to. Then we started uphill. Hills are my archnemesis. I can walk 100 miles on flat ground (or at least 60 as evidenced by the 3-day walk) but I return to my days of exercise-induced asthma when I hit an incline. This typically embarrasses me, so I try to regulate my breathing and not sound like I’m about to die.
As we headed uphill, our pace quickened. I did my best to keep up but half-way, I thought, this will not go well if I pass out. My friend had a dinner party to go to. It seemed rude to make her late by having to involve 911 and an ambulance. I stopped walking for a minute to take off my jacket and oxygenate my brain. Then came this startling discovery…
My friend said, “you’re walking much faster than I usually walk.”
Wait…what?
I was setting the pace? I thought I was fighting to keep up! Nope…I was driving us faster and she just kept pace with my madness. And she was looking good while she did it…not gasping for air like I was!
This brought me to thinking of other times that I set the pace. I spent 18 years working in Nursing Education, most of them being in some type of management position. At some point during those years, I developed the definition of being a leader as ‘first one in, last one out’. Oddly enough, “We Were Soldiers” came out the same year that I started in Education and Lt. Col Hal Moore says in the movie, “But this I swear before you and before Almighty God: that when we go into battle, I will be the first to set foot on the field, and I will be the last to step off.” Why I adopted this creed when I was not being shot at, I’m not sure.
During most of my time as Director, I arrived to work by 6:30am and didn’t leave until 6:30 or 7:30pm. I made myself available at all times – weekends, holidays, and even on my 2 week-vacation to Ireland. I was 8 hours ahead of San Diego time which made me feel like I was solving problems before they happened. I felt fully responsible for everything in my program, including my staff, students and at one point, even for plunging the toilet when it backed-up.
And who was setting the pace?
Me. I was trying to keep up with….myself. So I kept walking faster…working harder…staying longer. Pacing myself against this vision of what a manager should be. All things to all people at all times.
I actually enjoyed most aspects of my job. I enjoyed the interaction with the students. I loved being in the classroom. I had amazing faculty that were more than able to handle any needs that arose. But I still felt the need to be there all the time…because once again…I was trying to keep up with myself…with the image that I had created and couldn’t let go of.
In 2018, the school that I worked for shut down unexpectedly. Well, I say unexpectedly, but the writing was on the wall when I had to start plunging toilets. At some point, I’ll write about what the last three weeks were like – changing schedules, trying to get as many students completed as possible, finding good stopping points so they could get into different schools and fortunately, being approached by another school to teach out our nursing students. It was devastating for both our students and our faculty, who lost their jobs right before Christmas with no severance package.
For me, however, it was a bittersweet lesson. I could not prevent the tragedy by working 12-13 hours a day. I was not in control no matter how much I thought I was. It allowed me to reset. My students were taught out at the other campus in 18 months. My husband and I started a business. And I stopped keeping pace with the unrealistic expectations that I had for myself.
It’s 8:00am on a Thursday. I’m still in my robe as I write this. All of my work will be done from home today after I take a walk with my husband. I spent most of yesterday with my grandchildren. My pace is much more leisurely now.
But I’m so grateful for the reminder from my friend. If I’m determined to set the pace, at least set it at a healthy one. Or better yet, let someone else with more sense and boundaries set the pace. One that doesn’t require long term therapy or an inhaler.
I figured I would write this because I may not be the only one with pace problems. If you’re questioning who is setting your pace, do some self-reflection. Take it from someone that will qualify for Social Security in a few years. Make sure you’re not setting a pace based on an outdated or unrealistic expectation of yourself.
Oh…and if you find yourself having to plunge the work toilet because they got rid of all janitorial help…it may be time to pace yourself in a different direction.
Just saying…
Mothering, Marriage and Menopause 