The Danger Of Knowing

Fully immersed in the salt water, the world seems so still. So gentle. Yet, I know this feeling is temporary…

When my head emerges above the surface, I gasp. Then I quickly orient myself.

I am about a thousand meters off the coast of Barcelona bobbing up and down in the Mediterranean Sea. The pressure of a rope tied around my right ankle lets me know that the other end of the rope is still attached to my 20-foot long surf-ski kayak. Next, I quickly swim towards my kayak paddle before the sea currents carry it away. 

"What ever happens, do not lose contact with the boat and paddle," I tell myself.

With my boat and paddle in hand, I catch my breath. The open water swells feel like they are sweeping through me. In my distant sight are a few big sailboats but no sight of my fellow competitors.

This kayak race is not going as expected.

The next step is to get out of the water and back onto the surf-ski, a narrow and sleek but tippy ocean racing kayak, and the kind of craft I was paddling before I capsized around halfway mark of the competition.

Since you sit on top of this boat as opposed to inside of it, there is a technique for climbing back onto a surf-ski in open water. However, I have never performed this technique. I have not even ever tried. 

Think of a seal that climbs out of the water and onto a piece of ice. The seal launches out of the water, lands its belly on the ice, and attempts to stabilize.

Similarly, with my paddle in hand, I do this technique. Push out of the sea and over the side of the surf-ski, keeping my center of gravity low. Now laying across the surf-ski, I kick my back leg over the boat, briefly straddle the craft, and fall into the seat. Just as I settle in, I am no match for the next incoming swell and a surf-ski full of water. 

I instantly capsize and am back in the sea again. 

This process repeats itself three more times only to fall back into the sea with each successive effort. 

Frustration and fatigue set in. Then doubt. 

The difference between the literal and figurative meanings of “over my head” narrows.

Floating in water, the question I can not shake is, “How did I get to here?"

Just a year earlier, I participated in my first Barcelona Paddle Race. It was my first surf-ski race but I told myself, “I know how to paddle and can handle big river rapids and currents.” 

I traversed the 15 kilometer course through the sea that day without incident. In this second attempt, I told myself, “I know how to paddle and can handle big river rapids and currents. AND, I know what to expect because I did it last year."

The troublesome words here are “I know.” Sometimes, we utter "I know" over and over to ourselves as if we are an expert in the desired action. 

• I know how to sell.
• I know how to lead. 
• I know how to get healthy.
• I know how to get unstuck. 

Slowly, each declaration of “I know” converts a space in our head previously reserved for growth into a state of dormancy.

My own “I know” omits:

• Knowledge of the equipment I am using.
• Knowledge of how to correct big mistakes.

"I know" dismisses more than what we do not know. It dismisses what we can learn. 

Now, instead of racing, I am in the sea trying to conserve what energy remains.

On my fifth attempt to re-enter the surf-ski, I make it to the seated position. I am far from balanced though, with my legs pointed straight up towards the sky and my arms outstretched with the paddle in my right hand. The next swell approaches and I am perfectly positioned to be launched back into the sea again.

In a stroke of luck, as the boat begins to capsize to my right side, I am able to fall on the weight of the paddle in my right hand, which briefly stabilizes the surf-ski… a second to slip my feet under the foot straps, get my left hand onto the paddle, and take a stroke that generates just enough speed to soften the impact of the next incoming swell. 

Upright and in motion again, I am humbled. 

Not because I escaped the danger of the sea. Because I escaped the danger of knowing.

With gratitude,

-Joe

?Performance Coaching With Olympic Gold Medalist, Joe Jacobi

Perform your best at what matters most without compromising your life. Let’s design your simple and clear plan to get you and your team outside of the day-to-day rush of life and bring focus to what truly matters most.