Recently while contemplating the conclusion of my upcoming book on friendship I backed into a realization that caught me off guard.
For years I’ve been actively choosing not to get better at something.
As someone who strives for continuous improvement in every other aspect of my life, this felt strange to say the least.
I’m choosing to stay mediocre, and the reason surprised me in the best way.
Beer League
I didn’t start playing hockey until I was about 30. Funny enough I couldn’t even skate when the concept of playing first entered my mind. I had to take adult skating lessons just to learn how to stop!
But once I achieved some level of comfort in that regard I bought the gear and joined a beginner’s league called Hockey Finder. There’s no coach, just a captain whose role doesn’t extend much beyond ensuring that enough people show up to play the game and bringing beers for the parking lot afterwards. In my first game, I’m pretty sure I went offsides at least a half dozen times, and I thought I knew how the rule worked!
But I kept showing up, and twelve glorious years later I’m still at it at least twice a week. It’s become one of the few activities where I lose track of time and forget about all of the stressors of life.
And rather unexpectedly, I made some friends along the way.
The guys you nod at in the locker room, chirp with between whistles, grab a beer with after the final buzzer. And over enough Tuesday nights, that starts to add up. Twelve years of showing up to the same rink with mostly the same people turns into a kind of belonging I didn’t plan for and couldn’t have manufactured if I tried.
The Realization
Sure, I’ve improved over the years. But in the realm of hockey players, I’m mediocre at best. The urge to improve is real, but if my skills jump too far, I’ll be asked to move up to the next level. That means a new team. New faces. And I’d lose the collisions with the guys I’ve been playing with.
So I’ve been purposefully holding back. Skating hard enough to stay sharp and contribute, but not seeking out the coaching or clinics that might skate me out of the group.
The part that really caught me off guard was this. Without really consciously deciding to, I had started prioritizing friendship over my competitive drive. I was already living the thing I’ve been writing about and suggesting to other people. And I hadn’t even noticed.
I’ll be honest, there’s a lot I haven’t figured out. I could probably be doing more to take some of these friendships beyond the hockey container. That’s something I’m working on. But the fact that I was protecting this thing at all, without anyone telling me to, feels like it’s worth paying attention to.
Most of us spend our adult lives optimizing. Getting better, moving up, moving on. It’s just how a lot of us are built.
The question I keep sitting with is simple:
How many other parts of my life am I unconsciously optimizing away from?
