Go Big (but please stay home)
Lessons in taking risks, especially when everything tells you not to
When I was 16, my first ever hiking experience was in the Alps and Pyrenees. A year later, I explored my limited artistic abilities by traveling through France painting with a group of teens who all went to private art schools. I was a public school band nerd. After graduating from college, I moved to San Francisco without a job or apartment. With every one of those experiences, I grew and learned more about myself. As we get older, we lose that sense of adventure and willingness to “go big or go home.” We tell ourselves that there’s too much to lose. For example, I’ve always wanted to learn to play soccer, but I felt like the risk outweighed the reward. This past year, I decided to chuck that mindset out the window.
I’m the sole UX Writer on the AppDynamics Design Team — but I’m so much more than that. My coworker recently described me as a “go big or go home” type of person, and it made me think — is that true? I overanalyze everything, but ultimately make the leap most of the time. Take this job, for instance. I was working as a Community Manager and Editor at AppD when this role became available. I had been interested in UX Writing for a couple of years and had even taken an online course. Still, the idea of jumping into a new role, especially one that had never existed at the company, was risky. However, I knew it would be worth it (spoiler: I was right).
The job change wasn’t the only risk I took recently. Here’s the thing: I love soccer. My friends have accepted that I can and will bring it up in any conversation. I’m a late-in-life fan who never played growing up. When I learned that my favorite player, Ali Krieger, was hosting an adult soccer camp in Orlando, I wanted nothing more than to go despite being terrified of humiliation. It felt like my dignity was on the line, but I signed up anyway. This camp was an opportunity to learn a sport I love from a player I admire, so it was worth the risk. It just so happens that Krieger is German for “warrior,” which embodies everything that she stands for and what I strive to be. She is resilient and has an incredibly positive attitude and unrivaled work ethic. I like to think that I have that same strength to push through my self-doubt and (potential) external judgment.
One month after signing up, I hopped on a plane to Orlando to learn how to play soccer. You can read a play-by-play of my experience in an article I wrote for the AKFC website here. I went into the camp with so many expectations of what could happen or go wrong. What surprised me, though, was how much I ended up getting out of it. I learned how to score a penalty kick, but I learned so much more about myself.
Lesson 1: Embrace being uncomfortable — you’ll be okay
I signed up for camp, not knowing anyone or even how to play. I had to fly across the country and drive through a state not known for its safe highways. I’m an introvert with limited foot-eye coordination and cardiovascular strength. More than that, I can be incredibly hard on myself (see above) and I hate failing or being embarrassed, so you can imagine how uncomfortable I felt going into camp. This is all based on a fear that I’m not good enough and that everyone will finally see it too. That makes going into anything that much harder because I feel like I have to pretend so people will trust me. There have been several times when this fear held me back, but there have been more times when I’ve pushed it aside to get the job done.
To make it through the weekend, I had to learn how to handle these feelings. Part of being comfortable with being uncomfortable is your willingness to put yourself out there, make mistakes, and learn. When you’re a kid, this seems so easy. As an adult, not so much. The camp started with a happy hour, during which I walked into a room of 40+ strangers. All we (seemingly) had in common was our support of soccer and Ali Krieger, but that was enough to kick off conversations. I forced myself to interact with the first few people I saw, all of whom are now good friends. My pulse raced the entire time, but the more I put myself out there and talked about soccer, the more comfortable I felt. Ultimately, it felt like a relief to be able to ramble on with equally enthusiastic fans on a level that I don’t usually get back home. Learning to live with and not give in to that discomfort made it easier to embrace the situation.
When it came to the soccer field, I made mistakes left and right. For example, I hit a coach in the butt with the ball. I accidentally ran without the ball when practicing our ability to explode with the ball. I even got hit in the head once, and I wasn’t even attempting to head the ball.
I was a bundle of mistakes, all wrapped up with a bow and a smile because I showed up ready to learn, accepting that it might be a bit embarrassing but that I’d be okay in the end. This entire experience serves as a positive reminder any time I flub at work, on the field, or at home that it will be okay. When I start doubting myself, I can think back and say nothing terrible happened then, so I should assume that I will be fine now.
Lesson 2: Assume positive intent and don’t expect the worst
I often think about everything that can go wrong so I can be emotionally and physically prepared. If something goes wrong like I expect it to, my fears that I’m not good enough are proven right. It’s a self-fulfilling prophecy. If it goes well, I’m pleasantly surprised and prove to myself that I am good enough. It’s a form of self-preservation that adds another level of emotional burden to everything I do.
After signing up, I started running and attending spin class out of fear that I wouldn’t be able to keep up. No matter how much I prepared, I was still concerned about being the only one without experience and judged for it. Why would some girl come here without knowing how to play? She sucks. I realize it’s not fair to others to project my fears onto them, but it happens.
In reality, my expectations were off point. The camp placed me in a beginner group, a mix of different backgrounds, physicalities, and abilities. I was on an equal playing field (pun intended) where no one could judge me. At the end of camp, we participated in a “World Cup,” mixing up different levels of experience. I was especially nervous about disappointing people, particularly my team. There were certainly moments when my teammates yelled or I accidentally kicked the ball out of bounds or couldn’t keep up with offense. I was disappointed in my performance for those 10–15 minutes, but I left with my dignity intact. I gave it everything I had out on that field, and I was able to do that because I had put in the hours running and biking. I accomplished what I came to do — not pass out, learn from one of the world’s best right-backs, make friends, and prove to myself that I can do it, even if I’m not great at it. That’s something to be proud of in my book.
People may have been thinking Why is she here? But I was out there, and you can’t knock me for trying. I had to remind myself that people probably weren’t thinking about me at all. When I worry that my colleagues doubt my work because I’ve received constructive internal or user feedback, I tell myself the same thing. I’m probably being a lot harder on myself than anyone else is.
I went into camp expecting the worst, and it didn’t happen. I assumed people would be judgemental, but they weren’t. In fact, my new friends encouraged me with whoops and cheers when I started to doubt myself. No one really cared how I played (except for Ali when she joined my drill group), and I mean that in the best way.
Lesson 3: Once you start pushing yourself, you’ll want to keep doing it
Before camp, I worked out regularly but didn’t have a regimen that made me excited to hit the gym. This was not the case upon my return. After playing for hours in the Florida heat, I was panting and drenched in sweat, but I felt strong. For the first time in a long time, I was proud of what my body had withstood. Cards on the table — I surprised myself. A sense of power came from pushing myself close to the edge and it made me want to see how much further I could go. I didn’t want to let that feeling of strength fade away when I went home, so I made a commitment to myself to keep going.
When I returned to San Francisco, I followed through on that promise to myself. I hired a personal trainer, continued taking spin classes, and committed to weekly runs with a coworker. I also joined my company’s weekly soccer league as one of the least experienced players. I’m definitely not good at soccer but I enjoy the adrenaline of putting myself out there and the occasional “nice save” I receive from my colleagues. While the support of my new friends and coworkers means the world to me, the pride I’ve gained in myself — on and off the field — means even more. When I work out, I feel that flare of accomplishment that keeps pushing me to run an extra block, stay on the field a minute longer, and turn the bike resistance up another quarter turn.
I didn’t return from camp as the next Rose Lavelle (not that I expected to). I didn’t even expect to return as a mediocre player. However, I did return a more confident person. I learned how to settle into a temporary state of discomfort, knowing that something great usually comes from those moments. While playing on my company’s soccer team continues to be uncomfortable at times, I forget all about it when we’re all laughing after a game over a couple pints of beer.
I learned the importance of not assuming anyone’s intentions or projecting my fears on them. When I’m working on a project and get frustrated by a colleague’s questions and responses (or lack thereof), I remind myself that we’re all working towards a common goal. We’re just coming at it from different perspectives.
Through pushing myself, I learned that I’m a lot stronger than I thought I was — and now I want to feel even stronger. Whether it’s on the soccer field, at the gym, or in the office, when a situation feels too daunting or uncomfortable, when I’m doubting myself, or when I think others are doubting me, I repeat a mantra in my head: I am a badass — don’t underestimate me. I’ve accomplished more than you can imagine and I’m still going.
I encourage anyone reading this article to go big, especially when you want to go home. Go big when everything tells you not to.
