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Newton’s first law of motion, the law of inertia, tells us that a body at rest will remain at rest and a body in motion will stay in motion unless acted upon by an outside force. Inertia is defined as the property of an object to resist changes in its state of motion. We, too, are subject to the laws of inertia. We, too, are bodies at rest or in motion. And inertia inhibits our ability to take risks because it resists our ability to change. Risk-taking is about starting something new or stopping something we’ve grown comfortable with. In the human law of inertia, risk-taking is the force that shoves us out of our routine or comfort zone. To risk means to change, and because risk-taking causes the usual discomfort that accompanies change, inertia—the cozy comfort of the status quo—is often a more attractive choice. To overcome its debilitating effects, and to help ready yourself for the risk, Right Risk-takers need to learn to defy inertia.
Through risk-taking we move beyond the comfort of our current condition and overcome inertia. Sometimes this movement is taken through physical action, such as leaving the safety of the ground to scale the face of El Capitan. Other times the movement entails more of a cerebral shift, converting to a new political or religious belief system, for example. Whether physical or intellectual, risk is a vehicle that moves us from where we are to where we want to be, and you simply can’t get from here to there without movement. As a general rule, the greater the distance between your current reality (here) and the destination to which the risk will carry you (there), the more substantial the risk. And the hard truth is, the bigger the gap between here and there, the more energy, discomfort, and sacrifice will be required to overcome inertia and take the risk. Risk-taking is hard work.
As the path of change, risk-taking is the hard way out of our current circumstances, the way of initiative. Unfortunately, there is an inverse relationship between initiative and enormity. Thus, the more daunting the risk, the harder it is to muster up the energy to face the challenge, and the easier it is to opt out. We feel dwarfed by the risk’s bigness and we think we simply don’t have the physical or intellectual wherewithal for the undertaking. For example, many people have shied away from starting their own business not because of the financial commitment, but because they were convinced that the volume of paperwork would be too vexing.
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While turning away from the hard work of a large risk is understandable, turning away from small risks makes less sense. In these instances, the reluctance to risk is a function of habit—the behavioral expression of inertia. I see this a lot in my executive coaching practice, where even the smallest risks (in the form of behavioral change) are often met with resistance. For example, I once coached a highly successful, but plateaued, senior executive who, to the annoyance of both his wife and his employees, meticulously planned every waking moment of his life. He knew his rigidity was becoming more than a barrier to career progress, it was hampering his ability to enjoy life as well. More than one person had told him he needed to “lighten up.” After he related all the ways in which his overly structured behavior was blocking his personal and professional growth, we began brainstorming how he could increase the amount of spontaneity in his life. Seeing the need to start slow, I made a simple suggestion that on the weekends he begin taking off his wristwatch so that he could allow himself to be unrestricted by time and could begin experimenting with living less rigidly. Meeting my suggestion with a mixture of shock and characteristic rigidity, he replied, “Good God, I could never do that!”
It is easy to mistake behavioral inertia with laziness. But laziness isn’t about avoiding change, it is about avoiding effort. Ben Franklin called laziness “needless ease,” and others have referred to it as resting before you’re tired. Laziness is different from inertia. Whereas inertia is about resisting changes to our circumstances, laziness is about willful neglect. The plateaued executive wasn’t being lazy in resisting the idea of spending a watch-less weekend, he was protecting the status quo of his current condition; he was being habitual.
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While laziness and inertia are different, some similarities blur the distinctions between them. Both are concerned with the preservation of the status quo (inertia sits on its habit, laziness sits on the couch). Both resist discomfort. And both respond negatively to risk — inertia resisting the changes that risk will bring, laziness avoiding the effort risk will require. Perhaps the best way to distinguish between the two is to consider how each is overcome. Overcoming inertia requires getting off your habit. Overcoming laziness requires getting off your ass. And both are overcome by taking a risk.
Some of the laziest people I know are workaholics. I mean real, honest-to-goodness, 18-hour day, working on the weekend, dang-I-missed-the-kids-soccer-game-again workaholics. I’ve worked with a lot of them in my executive coaching practice. The telltale sign of overwork always indicates to me that the workaholic is being lazy about some part of his or her life. Workaholism is a deceptive form of self-avoidance, of escapism. Some people use work as an excuse to avoid a loveless marriage, others to escape unhappiness with themselves, and some use their job roles as a substitute for an authentic identity. But in each case, the workaholic is using an overabundance of effort in one part of his life while depriving another part that may need it more. In this way, workaholism is about self-neglect.
The neglectfulness of workaholism comes at a price. I have worked with dedicated workers who, other than work, had no real life at all. People whose hard work had paid off in the form of multimillion-dollar salaries, but whose lives were entirely unenviable. People with huge houses, but empty homes. People on their third marriages, with a wake of ruined relationships behind them. People who, aside from their job title, had no identity at all. People who, in real ways, had exchanged portions of their soul for career success. People who, sadly and ironically, make the fatal mistake of spending their whole life . . . making a living.
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The saddest thing about workaholics is that nearly all of them have a secret dream that they’ve squelched. Most often, the dream has nothing to do with their work skill but has everything to do with their passion. I worked with an IT professional who spent absurd hours stringing together lines of software code when his real desire was to do missionary work. He honestly believed that if he just worked hard enough, he would be able to afford to take the risk of living out his passions. But as he churned and churned in a passionless career, his dreams languished. Workaholism brings about the saddest form of personal neglect: dream deprivation.
Too many people trick themselves into believing that being busy equates with personal progress. But a person can be furiously active and entirely stuck. This is what I define as the paradoxical condition of paralysis in motion. Like someone running in place, paralysis in motion is an active, but ultimately progress-free, and even regressive, condition. Paralysis in motion is inertia in action, and falling victim to it means we are going nowhere fast.
Right Risk-taking requires being alert to the effects of inertia in all its active and inactive forms. Our really big risks, and most especially our Right Risks, require inertia-defying exertion. They require pulling up the roots of our habits, putting down the television remote, and springing into action. How? Here are a few things that you can do to defy inertia:
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An old maxim says the best way to be nothing is to do nothing. A lot of people prefer bragging how they could have been a contender to actually contending. For some, there is a strange comfort in knowing that they could have even though they didn’t. While asserting your potential is much easier than actually living up to it, living in the shadow of your unused potential can be a dreadful burden. Both inertia and laziness leave scars of safety. Many a bar stool has been warmed by the seat of a man whose most taunting recollections are of the risks he didn’t take.