Tag: risk

“Ride or die?”

Yours Truly, commuting.

I fell off my bicycle right between a bus and a rickshaw, just as traffic started to move.

I only got a few scrapes, but it was scary. And I rode on. And again the next day.

Sometimes, moving forward is safer than staying still–and the only way to get where you want to go.

I had about a mile from my house to the office, along an artery road in a city of 20 million. Sometimes, the commute took 10 minutes by bicycle. Sometimes, it was 45 minutes. I was an aggressive minnow among the buses, cars, rickshaws, and motorbikes.

I hadn’t always been a cyclist. At first, I’d negotiated a rickshaw fare each morning. Starting the day with a stressful negotiation, and taking a long ride to the office on side roads, wasn’t sustainable. I needed a bike to cut through traffic.

My first day on a bike in Dhaka, I realized I needed to be more aggressive. For safety. People expected me to move into tiny gaps in traffic, but I was hesitating, and blocking the dance. That was a good way to get hit by someone, or cause an accident for someone else.

I needed to shorten my commute. Bicycling increased my risk, but to shorten my commute it was a risk I had to take–so I did. And I quickly learned how to reduce the risks. I learned to:

  • Look at the flow of traffic ahead
  • Claim my place in the flow
  • Recover quickly
  • Buy some cycling gloves

In life or in business, risk is sometimes unavoidable. Unless you give up and go home. But it helps to know where you’re trying to go.

Through Common Thriving, I help small-business owners see clearly:

  • where they are 
  • where they want to be
  • what they need to do next. 

And how to deal with the details, risks, and rewards of doing what’s next. Sign up for the Light Stretches newsletter for an idea and an action step to grow a bit each Friday.

It’s all practice

On quizzes and big exams

When I was in college, most of my grades were based on some combination of assignments, quizzes, and–heavily weighted–the mid-term and final exams. If I bombed a quiz, I wasn’t happy about it, but it wasn’t a major disaster. If I’d completely failed a final exam, though, it would have been a Big Deal.

In the years after college, I sat for the three levels of the CFA exams. Multiple months of focused study, a cost of $600 for a given exam, a six-hour proctored exam given only once* a year, driving up to Kansas City the night before to stay in a hotel close to the test center…for me, passing these exams qualified as a Big Deal.

The thing is, I didn’t actually sit for three CFA exams–I took somewhere between six and a dozen exams, across the three levels. Fortunately for my sanity, my work, and my marriage, most of these exams were “practice” exams–exams that I “proctored” for myself, that I graded myself, and that I used to figure out what areas I still needed to work on for a given level. By the time I sat for the “real” exam, I at least had a good idea of the “shape” of my knowledge, and a very general idea of how I might fare on the officially administered exam.

When I finally sat for a given level of the exam, failing it would not have been fun–but, if I’d failed and re-enrolled for the same level the next year, the first try would have given me both resources and lessons to help in the second round.

You see, life is practice. Very rarely is a “test” really a final exam. Losing a job, failing in business, damaging a relationship, missing a big opportunity–each is unpleasant, but each is recoverable

Galton boards and conscious navigators

I find it easy to think of life as though it’s a Galton board. You’ve probably seen one, though, like me, you might not have known what it was called. It’s a triangle of steel pins, where a marble dropped into the top of the triangle falls in a random sequence of “lefts” and “rights” on its way to the bottom of the board. And once a ball falls on the left side of a pin, a part of the right side of the board is forever closed off…and another leftward fall closes off more of the right forever. And there’s some truth in this. If you let yourself get addicted to drugs or alcohol, it’s really, really hard to move out of that section of the board.

Galton board
A Galton board

As like a Galton board as life may be, though, we aren’t falling marbles under gravity’s control. We can–through our own volition, and sometimes through others’ interventions, take unexpected paths through the maze. We can backtrack, take unexpected paths, sometimes even jump across gaps in the maze. We might be falling through Galton’s maze, and gravity and randomness can predict a lot about where we’ll end up–but they don’t necessarily get the final word. If I start with a couple of rightward choices, I could still end up at the far left of the board. Choices matter, but they’re usually much closer to quizzes than to final exams.

a Galton board with the ball taking unexpected paths
A conscious path

Practice well

Of course, your life will ultimately end, and it will be somewhere between “wonderfully lived” and “wasted”. But until the grades are turned in, it’s all practice.

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Feedback

Please let me know your thoughts. If you want to affirm or elaborate on what I’ve written, to express disagreement with it, or to help sharpen my writing or thinking, I’d love to hear from you.

Footnotes

* Actually, Level 1 of the CFA exam is given twice a year, in June and December; the subsequent levels are only in June.