A few weeks ago I had a classic Steph day: my Wednesday afternoon and evening went from plan-less… to changing plans as I made them… to pleasantly impacting. In a fitting way – as you’ll see later – I was going to run to Beaver Sports to get running shoe advice before running back to the apartment. However, I decided that wasn’t very smart since my shins hadn’t been running lately and those miles would add up, so I decided to bike to Beaver and then see what happened with the rest of the day.
Of course the man I had been advised to chat with wasn’t working that day, but I’d remembered some brief advice he’d given me earlier and tested a few pairs of low-drop running shoes anyway. (I’m a heel striker and tend to land less-than-lightly when I run, so my shins have given me grief over the years.)
Afterwards I decided to bike through my old cabin neighborhood to smile at the homesteads and then elected to see if anyone was home at the first dry cabin I ever lived in: Spruce Hollow, home to a line of friends from fall 2008 through present. It’s where I drank my first beer in the States, nearly watched the entire extended edition LOTR series in one go (we needed to stop for sleep since we started around 5pm), and ate wild Alaskan squirrel. That cabin and I have history.
My thought had been to just stop and see if Alesha was home, say hi, and be on my way. Well, she was home, and ‘hi’ turned into a 7+ hour visit that lasted beyond midnight. Being on my bike in just 3/4 length bike tights and speeding down a hill back toward UAF’s campus chilled me a bit, so I stopped in the warmth just outside the library to bring full feeling back to my fingers. There I noticed a posting for an interesting topic: rejection.
Back in California I had recently had a brief conversation about how the fear of rejection was probably keeping me from sometimes asking basic favors. I needed to have a bike stored over the summer and fall, so I hauled it 2+ hours north to see if my friend Max could by any chance hold onto it, stayed a weekend, decided that was too much to ask, and parted ways without even mentioning it. Only after a colleague told me that was ridiculous did I call Max up and tell him of my intentions. He said it was no problem at all and even said it could potentially be transported to Alaska if I didn’t return to California.
So why hadn’t I asked in the first place? Even though a ‘no’ would obviously have been nothing personal, it probably was at least partially a fear of rejection holding me back.
Along a similar line, I’ve been hoping to get some footwear advice from someone more than just an athletic shoe salesman at a gear store. I’d asked my own podiatrist if transitioning to minimalist running was something to consider, and he’d decided to go 50-50 about how that would work out for me. Without a running coach, I didn’t know where else to turn for worthwhile opinions.
Over the last couple months I’ve had an idea creeping up in my mind that has roots in the most unlikely of places – my blog. I’d noticed that an outdoorsy podiatrist on the East Coast had started following my blog, and he seemed dedicated to writing about hiking, running, the outdoors, and appropriate footwear. I wondered about approaching him for advice with the joke that he wouldn’t be able to see future writing from me if I continue abusing my shins.
On Tuesday morning I got a text from Alesha asking if I wanted to go to a talk with her that evening. I knew she was referring to the Rejection Proof talk, and I knew it was a sign I was meant to go. As I went about my day – with some urging from Max – I wrote a message and posted it to the blog and the podiatry clinic’s email. After all, what was the worst that could happen? He’d say no, he didn’t have the time. With the time difference I figured the earliest I’d see any response would be Wednesday, if at all.
I jumped in the shower, ate some food, and checked my email before heading out the door. Never did I expect to see an email from Suffern Podiatry just hours after my inquiry! Dr. Friedman said he’d be happy to help me out from afar to the best of his abilities. With my own issues regarding insurance and the general worry of legalities in this country, my hope for kindness from strangers has dropped more than I’d like to admit. Yet in a single email, he’d restored some of my faith in humanity.
With a smile in my soul, I headed out the door to listen to the talk about fear of rejection. From driving police cars to flying strangers’ planes to playing soccer in random people’s backyards, overcoming rejection has enabled Jia Jiang to try all sorts of things. One of his take home points is this:
“When we shy away from rejection we reject ourselves and our ideas before the world ever has a chance to reject them. This is the worst form of rejection and as a result, we are ignored by the world.” — Jia Jiang
After Pub Trivia that night I stayed up taking pictures of my hiking boots, running shoes, and orthotics to send off with answers to some questions Dr. Friedman had asked. I woke up to his response, and after sending off more pictures and details, he’d given me his full advice about 24 hours after I had initially contacted him. He gave me the go-ahead to try either of the low-drop shoes I’d been considering, recommended insoles and some stretches for my arch type, and even summarized the biomechanics of my feet.
Did he have to do any of that? Absolutely not. Although chances are we’ll never meet, we both benefited from my reaching out. I received some helpful advice and – more importantly – was reminded that people are more willing to help than I might think. I wanted to somehow demonstrate my gratitude, so I mailed a little note with a few cans of Captain Jim’s smoked salmon and a small check. The package left Seward, AK, on Saturday and arrived at the clinic in NY on Monday. (seriously, way to go Seward PO!)
Dr. Friedman emailed me a thank you for my thank you, telling me he would not be depositing my check and would instead put it through the shredder because the note and salmon were thanks enough. As he put it:
“Actually, getting a chance to extend myself professionally in a meaningful way with someone who is in a place I would like to be, doing something I would like to do, if I did not have to be where I am doing what I have to do actually provides me with a mini mental vacation.”
It appears that if we just lean on each other a little, there is a reason to believe in humanity after all.