Thread: How do you feel about taking risks?

A quick note—and poll—on evolving comfort zones

On Monday, I went to a public swimming pool for the first time in years. Like any other public swimming pool, it was filled with the damp, warm smell of chlorine, bodies of glorious shapes and sizes, and some dubious specimens on the textured beige tiles.

I’ve always loved swimming—although preferably in the open sea, rather than a hotbed for used plasters and verrucas. But I rarely do it. It’s a hobby that always feels like too much of a faff. And I’ll be honest: I worry about my hair.

However, when my physio presented me with two options, swimming or cycling, to sort out my ageing back, the choice was clear. Given my road sense/lack thereof, swimming it was.

Fortunately for me (and my compatriots in the medium lane), swimming is one of the few sports in which I’m relatively competent. Most likely, because a) it isn’t a team sport (in addition to road sense, I’m woefully lacking in competitive spirit and an ability to grasp the rules of anything more complex than Snap), b) and it gives me ample time to think. A writerly kind of sport, right?

So it was with some surprise that the night before my first swim, I felt, well, kind of nervous? Not about anything specific—just the vague dread of doing something new. Of padding ever-so-slightly, a mere few meters down the road, outside of my comfort zone.

Is this thirty-one?

Of course, once she was in, she loved it.

But I was left unsettled by my nervousness. It’s not the first time, lately, that I’ve needed to pluck up the courage to do something my twenty-something self would have breezed through.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m no stranger to making bold moves—I’ve uprooted my life more than once, and as a self-employed person, my entire career is a risk. But in other areas of my life, I’m noticing this tentativeness creep in. Holding me back from doing the things I want to do, like joining a choir or going on holiday by myself.

Ironically, risk is a huge theme in the work I do with my coaching clients, many of whom are exploring their own appetites for something new. As is often the way when you’re a coach, there’s a beautiful mirroring that happens in these conversations—where clients illuminate challenges and blindspots that I too am working through behind the scenes.

So I’ve been thinking a lot about risk and comfort zones.

How we pursue those feelings that there’s more to life, when we feel we have more to lose. How age may change our risk tolerance. Whether the pandemic has made us more cautious. And how we can gain enough clarity on what we really want, so we feel brave enough to take a leap of faith.

I’ve got a much longer, more confident post on this very topic, sitting in my drafts. But the truth is, I’m still making my mind up on how we best approach all of the above. So, in the spirit of messy works-in-progress, I thought I’d ask you.

And if so, how? Maybe you’re braver than you used to be. Or perhaps you also notice that subtle creep of hesitancy.

And because I love a Reddit thread like this one:

What’s the biggest risk you’ve ever taken—and did it pay off? I’ll go first…

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About me + Messy Work

If you’re new here, it’s lovely to have you. I’m Lucia, a writer and coach trying to answer some big questions about whether there’s more to life—and celebrating the mess along the way.

If this post has resonated with you, you’re writing about similar themes, or you’re curious about coaching, drop me a message. I’m always up for a chat!