We stand on the brink of another new year. If that sounds ominous, that is the point. We don’t mind the passing of each day; that’s a tiny sliver of our time. But milestones like New Year’s, birthdays, deaths, weddings and others pose reminders we find impossible to ignore. A huge chunk of life, our lives, seemingly vanishes in one gulp. Blink and it’s gone.
For an athlete, time is everything. It marks everything they do: how much time to put into practice, how much time in actual competition, time until the next break, time between seasons, time until the next contract. There is no slowing it down, no stopping it. Athletes, more than most, are constantly reminded of their humanity. That’s why they compete so intensely, the irretrievable expense they’ve put into it. The time and energy invested in getting stronger and better may have side benefits, but that wasn’t its purpose. Its purpose was to put you into a position to win.
Most of us feel a certain melancholy during Christmas and New Year. We feel a certain disappointment with ourselves, for how imperfectly we used up our time, a full year’s worth. In many parts of the world, suicide rates are highest this time of year. But it shouldn’t stymie us. It’s not the end of the game, but halftime.
Writer Malcolm Gladwell promotes the 10,000-rule, while master trainor Stephen Covey says to “eat the elephant one bite at a time”, and John Wooden reminded us not to let what we cannot do interfere with what we can do. Putting these three beliefs together may be a good idea. Time seems intimidating in big segments, not so much in baby steps. Ten thousand hours is three hours a day for ten years. That sounds more manageable. It’s like losing weight; you don’t step on the scale every day or it’ll get frustrating. And weighing scales don’t measure ounces.
For the rest of us, the New Year is a convenient hook to pin our reset buttons on. It signals fresh starts, new beginnings, all the old tropes. But it’s actually an illusion, an artificial setting we give ourselves to feel better.
College athletes try out every time. Injured athletes go to rehab as soon as possible. Teams practice every day. No occasion needed. We can restart, recommit, any time we choose. Tabula rasa. Clean slate. That’s actually the good news. We often look at today’s misstep or shortcoming as a devastating setback. It rained, so I wasn’t able to run. Traffic was bad, I couldn’t go to the gym, damn it. But at the very least, you still have an abundance of chances, later in the day or the following day. Don’t give yourself a back door to give up.
Subconsciously, New Year is also a chance to forgive one’s self for squandering opportunities the previous year. You can’t go back and change anything, anyway. The date becomes a celebration of hope, where we optimistically think we will do better. But an open door is useless if you don’t walk through it and close it behind you. That is the second step. They go together.
Failure is a part of it, more so for all-time greats. Michael Jordan recalls that he missed over 9,000 shots in his career, and famously had a TV commercials that recalled dozens of missed game-winners. Elon Musk once blew $100,000,000 of his own exploring renewable energy transportation through Tesla. No NBA team has swept an entire season. Everyone fails. Everyone loses. Everyone. It is what makes you better. During his Hall of Fame acceptance speech, Yao Ming spoke directly to Shaquille O’Neal, telling him that he was “the greatest reminder that what doesn’t kill me only makes me stronger”. It was a fitting acknowledgment.
Bottomline, New Year is what you make it. You can look at it as more of the same or as a chance to start anew. But let’s partition that into more of the same successes and a clean slate when it comes to failures, instead of the other way around. It’s easier to carry, and resounds with the spirit of the season. Cheers!