My husband bought one of those fancy expensive bikes a few weeks ago, part of his I-hit-40-and-better-get-in-shape quest. He started biking every night, slowly increasing his mileage and decreasing his waistline. I noticed the change, noticed my own not-so-trim-as-it-used-to-be waistline and decided to get a cool bike, too.
So, last night we went out together on the bikes. And he kicked my butt. My little, used-to-the-sofa thighs simply couldn’t keep up, no matter how much I wished to do it. I’d imagined going from zero to Pamela Anderson body in one bike ride or less, and I basically went from zero to zero-point-one. In fact, I might have even taken a step back, considering how my thighs are feeling this morning.
It made me think about how we try to keep up with everyone. The neighbors who landscape better than we do. The people who drive a better car, live in a better house. The authors who get better contracts, the guy in the next cubicle who makes another dollar an hour. A lot of times, I, too, get the feeling of being on that constant bike, pedaling and pedaling to get…
Where, really? I’ll never pass the guy next door. Maybe never even catch up, to be honest. I’m going to go at my own pace, the pace that is meant for my path, and if the guy next door goes faster, so be it. Worrying about him and where he’s going isn’t going to get me anywhere but distracted. And that, as we all know, will make you crash into a tree. Not a pretty sight.
So why do we do it? Why do we feel compelled to keep on joining the race? I don’t think it’s just advertising, which is what the media likes to blame that compulsion on. I think it’s plain old human nature.
When I was out on that bike with my husband and he pulled ahead, the instinct to pull up beside him–maybe even pass him–kicked in, even though my thighs were burning and my body was screaming no way. I pedaled harder, messed with the gears, trying to find a way to do what my mind wanted and my body fought. Sometimes, I did it. Sometimes, I didn’t. In my opinion, it was all due to that instinct to keep up, sometimes to pass, the other person. That competitive spirit is what has driven the world, created businesses, fueled success…and sometimes burned people out. It can be a good thing, and a bad thing when taken too far.
For me, I think I’ll try to keep my worrying about the other guy to a minimum and concentrate on doing a good job at what I do best. And when I want to race, I’ll grab the hubby, get on my bike, and see who reaches the finish line faster. But next time, I’ll make sure there’s a better reward at the end–like a Dairy Queen. 
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I agree. Ambition is a wonderful thing . . . taken in moderation.
Bettye Griffin
http://www.bettyegriffin.com
Great column. And I love the analogy; getting distracted will crash you into a tree.
Yep.
Competition is definitely a standard install with human nature, and I agree that it’s perfectly healthy so long as you keep it in perspective. If competitiveness pushes me to do as much as I can of the best that I can, that’s good. If it pushes me to obsess over what I can’t do and get bitter or depressed because someone else can, that’s a problem.
Charlene — I love the crashing-into-tree comparison.
Definitely a good way of thinking about it, that you need to keep most of your focus on what you’re doing and where you’re going yourself and only a little on what the competition’s doing.
Angie
Yep…I realized recently that I have to write at my own pace. But I do find that I compete against myself each time to write a better book.
I’m naturally competitive, but for some reason I’m only that way for certain things and with some people – like my husband. I’m a competitive word counter – I love making a huge word count and having it higher than anyone else’s. That works well in the writing biz!
One day not too long ago I sat down and listed what I actually needed to make me happy. Not wanted, needed. It ended up being a very short simple list and included such things as hubby, kids, books, internet, comfy chair, good bed, chocolate. I looked at the list and wondered if that made me a pathetic person or just one who finally had realised that I was never going to be that person who lived the high life. In fact, if it was offered, could I even be bothered going to glitzy parties and stuff more than say .. once or twice a year. I do know that I loved the realisation that I didn’t have to kill myself to achieve something I didn’t even really want. Contentment and comfort were allowed to be goals and bloody well achievable ones too. Doesn’t mean that I still don’t get that hankering after the newest gadget or car occasionally, but I still have that list and I get it out frequently to remember.
Chez, I think you’ve hit the nail on the head.
I have a mood-maker flip thingy that has a saying ‘true contentment is being appreciative for what you already have’. In many ways this is so true. In our lives today we can get so busy trying to do the best, be the best, make our kids the best–and all for everyone else. How often do we take the time to simply sit down and reflect on, and take pride in, the achievements we’ve made on the journey to where we are now?
There’s nothing wrong with competitive spirit, so long as the spirit itself isn’t harmed in the process. For myself, I think I’ve actually reached a happy place in my life. I do things (most of the time) to please me and I rarely have to do anything anymore that doesn’t. Does that make me selfish? No, I don’t think so. I believe it has made me a better writer, a better wife, a better mother. There’s no shame in teaching your kids, by example, to have perspective in their lives.