Long Distance
So much of stamina has to do with not thinking about what you’re afraid of and never looking up to see how far you have to go. Letting fear in your head generates the kind of panic you can feel in your chest and arms. Seeing the finish line far in the horizon – or worse not being able to see it at all – drains the confidence right out of you like a plug pulled on a very fast drain. I say this like I’m a marathon runner or something.
I’m not.
This picture is of me getting out of the water after a half-mile swim for the Danskin Triathlon in Pleasant Prairie about four years ago. Aside from childbirth, this is about as physical a feat I’ve ever attempted. And I did it – swam across the lake in about 20 minutes, all the while fighting off my panic about being in deep water, in the weeds, with other women splashing and flailing about, people in kayaks telling me I was off course, and the other side looking like Tinker Bell’s light hovering several miles away.
Diana Nyad – long distance swimmer – talked about how she just focuses on the here and now, breaking a long distance into small chunks and keeping her head full of songs and ideas totally unrelated to the fact that she’s in an ocean with gigantic creatures and currents and chop, not to mention the Portuguese Man o’ Wars that eventually did her in on this last swim.
What I didn’t understand when I was swimming across the lake I have understood for a long time when it comes to work.
Almost since the beginning of my career, I’ve had enormous projects due in short amounts of time. I have felt the physical panic that comes from looking up to see the finish line pages and pages away. I’ve been defeated before I started thinking about all the dangers, the mistakes, and the risks. I’ve frozen in place looking at a blank computer screen, cursor flashing, the outline of a federal proposal in the wee-est possible print on my desk, the points for each section stoking my fear and paralysis. Sounds bad? Yeah, I’ve had some bad ones. But I learned from them. One step at a time, that’s the trick.
When Diana Nyad described her strategy for swimming 103 miles from Cuba to Key West, it was actually kind of familiar. But not in a sports way – in a work way. On a big project, I always break the work into chunks, constantly work a list, keep focused on the task at hand, and don’t think about the sharks and other evils lurking – like bad data, lackadaisical colleagues, and indecipherable proposal requirements. I also make sure I’ve got the best equipment (no computer failures for me), solid connections to great resource people (a carefully tended Rolodex – metaphorically speaking), and a strong personal support system (husband who cooks).
Chunk, chunk, chunk. Stroke, stroke, stroke. Don’t look up until it’s time to walk on shore.
It works. It really does.

