The Inspiration Cafe

I am tired at the start of this week’s ski class. My mind is racing: will my legs last today; will I hurt myself if I’m too tired; will the instructor push us to something I don’t want to do; and on, and on. I take a deep breath.

The first run is an easy green track. The light is poor and I can’t see the terrain in front of me (that’s a good analogy for coaching). My instructor says trust your skis – just feel what the ground is like and be ready to compensate. That creates tension for me. We stop and look down a slope. The instructor says he thinks this is groomed but he can’t really see, the light is so poor. Over I go, anticipating a nice, wide groomed run, and am surprised to find ungroomed bumps – nothing drastic – but not what I was expecting. A couple of wobbly turns and I remember that I’d skiid bumps at last week’s class and could do this. I laughed at myself.

We move to a new part of the mountain – again a slope which I’ve skiid many times in the past and which holds memories. Why is it my mind remembers the icy, difficult times more readily than the glorious, powdery soft snow times. How come I anticipate it being difficult rather than easy?

The top part of the slope turns out to be easy and I follow the lesson instructions comfortably. Then over the dip I go to discover a large sheet of ice and I’m panicking again. I pick up speed and forget the lesson details I’m supposed to be focussing on.

This happens a couple of times and sitting on the chair going up for the third run, I ask myself “what is going on” that I do that wee panicky thing? I decide on a new strategy – next time it happens, I will stop (instead of hurling off at uncontrolled speed) and re-focus.

On our next run, the instructor gives us another tip to focus on. I ski off and am very comfortable on the first part of the run. We stop on a steep edge, looking down at the next part of the slope. I quieten the little voice that says “Oh, Oh that looks icy”  and remember my plan to focus!

That focus completely changes how I feel on my first turn. It’s solid, stable and actually feels good. The rest of the run is blissful!

One more run sees me flying down a steep slope I haven’t skiid for years. At the bottom I’m breathless, exhilarated and happy.

It’s later in the evening that I’m asking myself why that last run felt so good. At which point did my whole being change and I gave myself up to the skiing? I realise it was that first, really focussed turn – it set me up for a great ski run. My mind had stopped racing with negative thoughts, my focus was on doing (not thinking about) the techniques the instructor had given us and I was fully present and in my body. That’s the feeling I want to take with me next time to fully “BE” on the ski slopes.

Such an analogy for our coaching process. My ski instructor isn’t actually using a coaching technique. He kind of tells us how things should work and hopes we do it. He hasn’t once asked me “How did that feel, Aileen” – he’s more focussed on what I “do”. It was my self-coaching that helped me distinguish when I was in my head and what the difference was when I focussed on how I was feeling in my body instead.

This is what we mean when we become fully present as Coaches too. In a coaching conversation, our focus, enables our clients to speedily, confidently and trustingly tackle the slopes in their lives and work. One right question can create the solid, focussed point for them to turn on – and from which they can then have a blissful run home.

Aileen.