Being an amateur can feel like we don’t know what we are doing. That we have a lot of work to do. But when we see beginnings as opportunities and adventures, we can relax and have fun; enjoy our progress and the learning curve.
I wasn’t bothered when the first cyclist raced around us. But when the second one zoomed past us, I started laughing.
And I couldn’t stop.
We had been on the Katy Trail for less than 30 minutes and already I was feeling like an imposter. Wondering what we were doing this cool spring morning as we started our 500-mile bike ride across Missouri and back on this former railroad bed turned gravel trail.
I pulled my mountain bike to a stop. Unable to laugh, pedal, and process my thoughts of doubt.
My recently graduated daughter pulled up alongside me.
One glance at her, and I laughed even harder.
What were we doing?
Standing in her tee shirt, plaid button down shirt, tennis shoes, cotton socks, and baggy cotton gaucho looking capris, she looked at me with concern.
“Did you see them?” I asked. “They are serious bikers.”
They had both looked the part and had the speed and bicycles of serious cyclists. Not to mention, the colorful padded bike shorts and bright graphic jerseys sporting multiple back pockets. Their clip-on shoes were whirling their tires a lot faster than we were plodding along.
I laughed, waving my hand to indicate her and then me. “And then there is us.”
I looked at my tennis shoes and cotton socks. My polyester athletic pants, the ankles circled with white Velcro to keep them from being eaten by the chain, and my long sleeve striped exercise shirt. All topped with a long sleeve button up shirt that was keeping the chilly breeze from biting.
The only professional cycling gear either of us sported was my pair of bike gloves. I wore them to keep my hands from burning.
We looked like we had emerged from the local dustbin with our mismatched clothes and gear. Not like we were cyclists who knew anything about what we were doing.
And no, we didn’t know what we were doing.
Oh, I had planned our trip. Reserving accommodations in small towns the trail rode through. Plotted how far we would ride each day.
I had looked into bike panniers for our gear, decided they were too expensive and made our own from plastic flip-top containers from Walmart. I added specialized hooking hardware so they hung from our rear tire bike racks.
As for training. I hadn’t been on a bicycle ride since last summer. Though I had been walking and exercising. My daughter had been on only one short ride.
We were amateurs in every sense.
Between giggles, I explained to her questioning glance. “What if the trail police come along and tell us to go home. That we don’t belong on the trail.”
“Oh mom,” she said. And then started laughing. “We do look pretty silly.”
And that’s when I realized even our headgear wasn’t correct. “We don’t even have the right bike helmet,” I laughed.
Not only did we have the wrong helmets, we wore baseball hats under our helmets to keep our heads from burning. (I know the slots on bike helmets are skinny, but I have gotten burnt through them). The baseball caps served a dual purpose, because they also kept our faces from burning to a crisp.
Did I say that we both burn easily?
That is why we only wore long sleeve shirts and had no leg flesh showing the whole trip. Even though some days it was in the high 80’s. We couldn’t carry enough sunscreen to keep us from turning beet red from the sun, so we covered our skin.
“The right accessories and gear don’t make you an expert,” she said. “And besides,” she added, “that’s not your or my look.”
And I knew she was right.
We got back on our bikes and started down the trail. We had about 24 more miles to pedal on our first day. Our shortest day.
Tomorrow’s ride would be double the miles.
Do you ever feel like a beginner who doesn’t know what they are doing?
Can you relate?
Maybe you are attending your first exercise class and you feel like everyone is looking at you and noticing you don’t know what you are doing.
We don’t like being the one out of sync. The one twenty seconds behind the others who all know what they are doing.
So, we make great effort to not look like the beginner.
We buy the right clothes, gather the right gear, and watch YouTube after YouTube to make sure we don’t look like the newbie.
We research, read about it, and then take a how-to class, spending so much time learning the fine details that we never get around to actually doing the thing.
We practice for hours in the privacy of our closed and barred bedroom before we start doing it around people. Because we want to look like we know what we are doing.
We perfect and then perfect more and more, before releasing something out into the world or showing anyone.
We don’t want to try new things, for fear people will laugh at us. Call us out for not being expert enough. Or give us tips on how to improve.
We have this need to practically be perfect in our new endeavor, so we don’t appear like we might not know everything there is to know.
But how can we be as good as those who have spent years doing it, when we are just beginning?
And how can we learn without making mistakes and practicing. And practicing some more?
All this fear and embarrassment and need to do it almost perfectly, takes away our joy, our discovery, our pleasure in the activity itself. The fun sizzles to nothing. And instead, it becomes work. A chore.
Don’t buy into this lie that we have to do everything well. That it is bad to be a beginner. That we need to look the part. Know what we are doing. And almost be a professional before we can share it with others.
We don’t start with mastery, but slowly move towards mastery. Often never obtaining it.
Being a beginner or amateur is not a bad thing. It is opportunity and adventure.
What fun would it be if we started our first piano lesson being able to play Mozart? We would have nothing to strive for. No pleasure of learning and improving gradually until one day we look back and see all the progress we made and feel proud and a deep sense of satisfaction.
Focus on fun, not perfection.
Everyday on the trail we learned more and more. Gained new muscles, and insight. And slowly with each rotation of the tires, we rolled out of beginner.
After about 5 days of being on the trail, other newbies were asking us for advice. Asking us questions about towns, the trail, and tips.
And you know what? We were able to answer them. And encourage them. Even if we were only a step ahead of them.
Sure, we didn’t look like the wise bike sages we were turning into, that is if you looked at our outfits and bikes (we even had kick stands on our bikes which we learned just added extra weight), but we were slowly learning and growing.
After about 300 miles, we were turning into quite a knowledge base of the Katy Trail and its delights.
We never did get to serious, though.
We were in it for the fun. The enjoyment. Meeting new people. Seeing new things.
Don’t despise small beginnings and where you are.
Sure, others farther along and more serious than you can cause you to question yourself, your progress, and your path.
But my advice is to keep your head down, your gaze on your own experience, and focus on your own ride and fun.
Thanks for stopping by. Keep remembering what’s important.
Theresa
Join the discussion: What have you been playing at as an amateur?
May link up at Crystal Storms (#HeartEncouragement), Maree Dee (#Grace & Truth), Anita Ojeda (#inspirememonday), InstaEncouagements ((IE Link-Up), and Jeanne Takenaka (#tellhisstory).
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Theresa,
I regret being a perfectionist when I was younger (I still struggle) because I missed the joy and adventure of learning new things because I thought I had to master everything I tried. What a defeating attitude. Thankfully you and your daughter were able to laugh at yourselves – always a good thing. As the saying goes, “Angels can fly because they take themselves lightly.” Enjoyed this post.
Blessings,
Bev xx
Oh Bev, I have never heard that saying. So good. We do need to take ourselves lightly. My childhood was spent so serious and afraid of not being perfect. I don’t want to go back to that. It took years to be able to laugh at myself, but now I can. Most of the time 🙂
What a sweet (and timely) reminder that we can ENJOY the adventure of being amateurs! I am not good at this at all, but I am learning little by little!
My recovering perfectionistic side that wants to appear like I know what I am doing has a hard time with this. But over the years, my laugh at myself side has given me the grace to see the humor in not being an expert and looking like the odd ball. And now my age has helped with the who cares sort of attitude. And through it all, God loves us, encourages us, and cheers on our efforts to take delight in learning and trying new adventures.
I was just thinking about this the other day, Theresa. The feeling that there are some things I want to do but don’t have enough experience in them to be the “expert” in the room. I have a very teachable spirit, but sometimes that’s not enough for those who want an expert.
But I love your encouragement to just enjoy the ride and learn what you can as your ride along. I don’t think I enjoy the ride nearly as much as I should!
Hey, and I didn’t know you lived near the Katy Trail! I live in Edwardsville, IL now and used to live in St. Charles County, Mo. So I’m very familiar with that trail. If you live close enough, I’d love to get together with you some time–when this whole pandemic thing is under control! Keep going down those beautiful trails with your daughter, my friend!
We want to be an expert, but without putting in the work. And yet the work can be half the fun. Maybe we need to change our mindset and not consider not knowing everything does not make us lacking in a bad way. I know I think that sometimes. I know what my dad would say, “We can’t all be teachers, or there would be no students.”
Yes, let’s get together. We used to live in Edwardsville. Small world.
Theresa, I so loved hearing about you and your daughters bike trip. It sure did sound like fun, and I liked the encouragement you shared about what you learned, starting from beginner to progression. I felt like you were talking to me when you spoke about beginning something, reading, watching you tube videos, how to’s and the like when I began blogging. I felt intimidated by all of the new people I was meeting through blogging. Will I ever be good enough? I reminded myself that even the experienced writers had to begin somewhere. While I have only been blogging since November 2019, I can see my growth. I have also learned a great deal from the great people I have met along my journey. Thank you for sharing this. Blessings.
Paula, so glad you jumped into blogging. By doing (blogging) you are learning. There will always be people ahead of us, and behind us. Keep writing and growing.
I had to laugh because I’ve been in this situation too. I often feel like a beginner. And often I am! 🙂 So grateful that it’s okay.
I love your advice, Theresa: “Don’t despise small beginnings and where you are. Sure, others farther along and more serious than you can cause you to question yourself, your progress, and your path. But my advice is to keep your head down, your gaze on your own experience, and focus on your own ride and fun.”
Yes, it’s okay to feel like a beginner. And have fun in the process.
I loved your story, and the trail sounds delightful! One of these days, I’d love to hike El Camino from France to Spain–your story reminds me of that one. Everyone starts out an amateur, but they gain wisdom as they travel.
I am getting better at not needing to ‘look the part’ in order to participate. I like to do things right, and fitting in is probably more important for me than I’d like to admit.
I shall look up El Camino. Hubby and I talk about walking across England or Ireland someday. France and Spain would be fun too. and a bit warmer.
Theresa, I love your points here. We all begin somewhere, and by the very nature of lack of knowledge when we begin something new, we’re going to be amateurs. And, I loved what you shared about knowing the reason behind why we’re trying something . . . and then there’s the whole pride thing we probably all deal with. I guess all this is to say I’m learning to own being an amateur in some activities, at least for a period of time. 🙂
Jeanne, we are often only amateurs for a time period. Soon we know more than the other beginners. But it can be hard on our pride. None of us want to look like we don’t know anything and be the odd person out. But often we start there. This, though, can give us empathy for the other amateurs.
‘Do not despise small beginnings.’
That’s grace, mercy, kindness, hope.
Meanwhile, you go girl! I’m so impressed with your energy …
It was such a fun trip. And I’d do it again.
What a wonderful mother-daughter adventure!!! We visited Missouri for the first time last year and ran on a tiny portion of the Katy Triail. It was beautiful! I want to go back. I think the amateur status you write about here is something yogis and meditation practitioners seek – beginner’s mind.
Come back again when you can, Laurie. The Kay Trial is so peaceful and scenic and it draws people from all over the US and even Europe. We met people from all over during our journey. I like that, beginner’s mind.