Grit
After school, my son often reads on his bed while I work. My office has been in his bedroom since Covid, as it was impossible for my husband and me to work in the same room (my husband is basically in meetings every hour of the day). It does not seem to bother my son. Since his room has windows, unlike our office, I am in no rush to move out. My son asks me, “do you know what grit is”? My interest is piqued. I know what grit is, but what does he know about it? So I ask him: “What do you think it is?” “Grit is building self-toughness. It is about persistence and sticking with a long-term goal”.
I ask my 9-year-old where he has learned about grit. His school organized a special workshop to prepare kids for challenges. It was part of an anti-bullying module. It also taught them that life is not always fun, but that you can overcome setbacks by building self-toughness. I should really write a thank-you note to my kid’s school. I much rather have him follow more grit workshops over circling silent letters in words that the English language probably should have dropped to make everyone’s life easier (knock, pterodactyl, doubt - those words).
Thinking about it, grit is probably the one thing I am actually good at. I have been an allrounder my entire life. I am typically decently good at most things I do, but never get to the point of excelling. I vividly remember myself curled up on the couch during lunch hour. I must have been about eight or nine years old. I was upset because my best friend was, in my eyes, better at everything. She was better at math, the best at gymnastics, and prettier. My mom had no idea how to respond. “There are things you are good at”, she tried. “Like what?” I retorted. I’m sure she gave some examples, but I only remember I found none of them convincing.
About eight years later, I had a similar conversation (without tears) with my cousin. He’d joined us on a family road bike vacation in the French Alpes. When I shared I felt to never really be good at anything he said: “the world needs allrounders too, we can’t all be superstars. Being a superstar takes up all your time. You get to do a variety of things.” I mulled this over for a while and decided he was right. I thought about Ireen Wust, the most successful Olympic speed skater in history, who I raced against when I was maybe ten or eleven. She was three years younger and already much, much faster. I can imagine that being a top athlete means that you dedicate 98% of your time to becoming or staying the best. Instead, I played in an orchestra, played field hockey, and did a bunch of different endurance sports (road biking, speed skating, running). I also had a solid group of friends, loved my family, and did well in school and later in university. And in every single thing I did, I had grit.
I barely ever give up, to a fault. Ask my mom about the night she had to take me to the ER because I was determined to skate 83 laps in one hour. Afterwards, my body went on strike with esophagus spasms. Similarly, I biked up mount Seymour (12.5km, 887m elevation) last week on an empty stomach. Stupid. But, not reaching the top just wasn’t an option. So I got there. And I was hungry, and cold. But I still did it, and it was awesome.
I hadn’t reached the Mt Seymour peak since before my daughter was born. It gave me such a boost that I felt more confident at work too. I found the courage to dust off a theory paper that I started years ago. And finished it. A fellow scholar reached out with an idea for a possible collaboration. We explored it with energy and enthusiasm. Grit can work as an upward spiral. You accomplish something in one domain because you persisted. And it gives you the confidence to try in another domain too.
Still sitting behind my desk in my son’s room, I see my son flinch when he moves his leg. “What is wrong with your leg?” I ask. “It’s nothing, it’ll be gone in the morning”. He has his mind set on running over 100km at kilometer club at school. “Maybe you should take a break from running tomorrow”, I suggest. “No way, tomorrow is Wednesday, and we get to run during lunch hour”. That explains why he hasn’t been eating his lunch on Wednesdays lately. I sigh. I know that nothing is going to change the mind of this gritty boy. He is going to come home with that 125k ribbon.
