Snowmass, Colorado is a year round, world class destination resort. In summer, people, and their bikes, ride the gondola up the mountain to access the bike park’s downhill trails.
Bike trails are rated in difficulty and often named in accordance with the level. Intermediates get Dust Bunny, advanced riders get Valhalla or Battle Axe and experts get—maybe even go—Gonzo.
Beginners, like me, get Verde, Spanish for the color green and also the color of the easiest trails in the biking system.
I really enjoy my time outside on the bike but I don’t have an inner desire to improve. I’ll acquire skills if they help keep me upright, injury-free and “rubber side down” as a good friend likes to say. But at the end of the day, I don’t really care. I don’t compare my performance to others or judge myself. And I don’t have much thinking going on about it.
But in my years as a communications professional, my current work as a coach and in my marriage, everything feels different—I do care. I want certain stuff to happen and other stuff to not happen. I can judge my performance and I sometimes also have a lot on my mind.
What’s odd is that only in the areas of my life that I deeply care about do I ever experience the feeling of being an imposter. That feeling comes and goes and I’ve tried to mitigate that feeling with knowledge and experience to no avail. That same uncomfortable feeling still creeps up.
At some point, I started to wonder, who or what is the imposter?
And, what I’ve noticed is…
When I have something on my mind—the imposter comes. And when I have nothing on my mind—the imposter goes.
Clearly, I’m not the imposter—my thinking is.