Lessons in Land Speed Racing

I found inspiration in an unexpected place and from an unexpected person this week.

I just spent four days in Utah visiting my husband in the middle of his 40th birthday adventure.  Joshua is on a journey of his own - a three-week trip from Tennessee to the salt flats in Bonneville, Utah.  I flew out to visit him for a few days to support his dream of racing his Hayabusa in the Motorcycle Speed Trials.  And instead, I found support in my dream of becoming a Music Director.  Funny how that works.

Lesson 1:  Preparation.  
It took years to plan this trip.  Seriously, years.  Joshua bought a motorcycle several years ago and has spent tons of time and money getting it to have the power it needs to perform.  Then, he had to review all the event safety rules and do even MORE work on the bike to be allowed to race.  Then, he had to get all the necessary equipment together (helmet, suit, boots, gloves, etc.) and plan his route there and back (over 4,000 miles), which included planning for delays from traffic or possible emergencies.

Personally, I feel like I have a lot of preparation to go in my journey.  In the next few years, I'll be spending tons of time and money gathering the skills and knowledge I need to perform.  I'll be looking at Music Director job ads and figuring out the requirements I need to be able to fulfill, leading to even MORE work.  And, I'll need to plan my route.

I've gotten a hint at preparation work in getting ready for rehearsing the choir.  I've got my plan of what warm ups I want to do, how much of the music I want to cover, what specific sections I want to work on... but I also have to try and build in time for the unexpected.

Lesson 2:  Determination.
As the trip drew closer, Joshua took his bike to a shop to get it "tuned".  (Non-speed people: The shop adjusts the motorcycle's computer to make the engine as effective as possible.)  Unfortunately, the shop found out that there was major damage to the engine, threatening the entire trip to be cancelled. Joshua didn't give up and, thanks to two motorcycle shops working together, got his bike back (with new engine parts built to support the bike's power) with just over a week to spare.

I know a day is going to come when the path toward becoming a Music Director comes across a road block.  I don't know what the obstacle is yet, but I know that overcoming it involves the same amount of determination as I've witnessed in watching Joshua get to Bonneville.

Lesson 3:  Grace.
Then, when Joshua got to the salt flats on Saturday morning, they looked like a lake instead of a desert. He patiently waited in line for the event, slowly pushing his bike so it wouldn't overheat (another story entirely).  When a family behind him in line asked if he'd like to ride in their enclosed trailer across the water, he had the grace - and good sense - to say yes.  That family "adopted" us for the time they were at the event as "Tennessee" and "Mrs. Tennessee".  They were able to help Joshua out with the ride across the water and help in doing some last minute work on the bike to pass inspection.  Joshua was later able to return the favor and provide extra parts he had brought with him. By the time I arrived on Sunday, Josh was already a part of the family - complete with a bright orange shirt to match their team.

It's amazing to me how grace works.  I have to remind myself that it's okay to accept grace when it is offered and hope that I will have the opportunity to repay in kind later on.  What amazing friendships are formed through grace.

Lesson 4:  Excitement.
So, we finally come to the part of the story where Joshua is out on the salt flats ready to get into the line for his first run down the course.  A run that has taken years to plan and a week of driving 400 miles a day to get to. Instead of being the first one in line, Joshua tells me he's nervous, shaking.  He takes his time to get his equipment together and slowly enters the pre-staging line.  He's a bundle of nerves and excitement.

It's a religious experience to watch him, because I'm reflecting on being in front of the choir last week.  Delaying walking in, nervous, shaking.  Here is this thing I have been called to do, that I have prepared for, but all I am is a bundle of nerves and excitement.  I guess that's just what happens when you're passionate about something.

Lesson 5:  Coordination.
The first run is done and Joshua is disappointed with the result.  His goal is to hit 200 mph this week and the first run came in at 169.  He gets off the bike talking about how difficult it is to get his feet in the right place to shift quickly, keep his eye on the tachometer while simultaneously keeping track of his progress on the course, know how soon to ramp up his speed, and steer with his tires constantly losing their grip on the salt.  Wow, there's a lot more to this then, "Go as fast as you can."  I remind him that it's still the fastest he's ever driven and he realizes this small success.

Are you seeing a theme here yet?  I feel like I'm re-writing my last post about being in front of the choir trying to figure out how to make my hands and ears and eyes and heart all work together at the same time.  Coordinating conducting and watching the music and listening and watching for reactions and interpreting the song and breaths and cut-offs.... And that's when this blog post came into my head.  There's so much that goes into performing well at anything -- and the professionals make it look easy.  But once you experience it for yourself, all those moving pieces... Wow.  I remember coming away from rehearsal last week thinking there was so much I could improve, but I luckily had many supportive folks around me reminding me of what I did well.  I celebrated that small success.

Lesson 6:  Redefining Success.
As I mentioned, Joshua's original goal was to come in at 200 mph.  Given the preparation work and the power output of his bike, it was a totally realistic goal.  However, the salt conditions are causing his bike to lose traction, so much of the power is lost in the spinning tires.  The second run comes in even slower than the first.  The third run comes in at 170 mph.  Instead of calling the entire event a failure and giving up, Joshua decides to pursue a new goal: getting into the "Advanced" lane.  That takes an average speed in the timed mile of 175.  The next day of racing was cancelled due to wind, but that same wind dried off the track a bit and allowed for more traction.  With determination, patience, coordination, and practice, Joshua clocked in at 179 mph on Tuesday.  This is not some world record-breaking speed, but it was enough to move him into the "Advanced" lane with the elite racers.  And, he got a sticker that he's really proud of.  With one more day of racing to go, he's got a few more chances to improve his speed, but he's already coming away with a sense of accomplishment.

I've heard this theme so often in conversations with Music Directors.  Success isn't about a choir or musician hitting every note on the page perfectly.  Success is defined by the spirit of the music and that ability to stir something in the listener.  So even if the conditions aren't conducive to the perfect performance, that spirit can still come through.


I am so thankful that I took this trip to share in my husband's dream.  I have come to appreciate this sport, this man, and my calling in an entirely new way.  Who could have guessed?

These people are staring at me!

On Wednesday evening, I made my first attempt at directing the choir.  We started with a few warm ups and learned a new song.

Before I get too far, let me talk about my first song for the choir.  It's a beautiful hymn written by Lucy Holstedt called, "The Great Community."  To a skilled music director, it's 16 measures and probably pretty easy to learn and direct.  But to me, man... It's a whole 16 measures, repeated three times.  Count them - 48 measures that I have to conduct, rehearse, listen, watch, check for understanding, decide how to interpret it, get my arms and hands and ears and eyes and soul all working together at the same time.  So - oh my God - so complicated.

Now that I've set the stage, let me continue.

I walked into rehearsal feeling both nervous and prepared.  My legs were shaking as I started the first warm up.  I mean, seriously, all those people are staring at me!  And expecting me to say something insightful!  As we got further into that first warm up, I took a moment to breathe (helpful, since it was a breathing-focused activity).  By the time we finished our warm ups and moved on to the music, I felt more comfortable.  Don't get me wrong - there was still a ton of, "Oh my God, what do I do now?" going on in my head, but it was a dull roar.

All in all, I felt good about the rehearsal. And good doesn't mean perfect (Thank you, David and Wendel.). I figured a few things out as I went (like, "Hey, counting folks in - 2,3,4 - is WAY important if you want them to start at the right time and in the right tempo.").  I wrote down a few things that I needed to learn (like, "How the heck do I show everyone where to breathe?"). Mostly, though, I just tried to revel in the moment and do the best I could with the skills I currently have available.

The whole experience was equal parts wonderful and nerve-wracking.  As I told Nancy Starr, part of me wanted to jump up and down like a kid in a candy store and part of me wanted to throw up.   Which is good.  Those nerves let me know that I'm alive -- and that I care enough about the outcome to worry about it.

I'd like to take a moment to thank everyone who gave me encouragement this week leading up to the rehearsal... And the choir, who was so attentive and made my job easier... And those who reached out to me after rehearsal to give me your feedback.  It's all new to me, and I revel in every comment.  Thanks for your support, your suggestions, your encouragement, and your energy.

It is truly amazing to be wrapped in this community as I learn and grow.

Shame on you, David Glasgow

I would like to dedicate this blog post to the public shaming of David Glasgow...

...for giving me the feels.

Dear David Glasgow,
You made me cry, you UU royalty, you.

With your words of releasing perfection and your songs of support.

And encouraging me to get comfortable making a fool of myself in front of everyone.

And making me look outside of myself to what is important about this calling.

For opening words that reminded me to shed my skin.

And closing words that called me to take risks and follow my calling boldly.

For a choir song that endlessly repeats "in this holy moment" in my head

And a sermon song that reminded me that I not only need, but have, someone to fall back on -- and was so emotionally provoking that I couldn't breathe.

Shame on you, David.  You made me cry.

And thank you.

I've Seen This Place Before

I do not like being a novice.  (I do not like it, Sam I Am.)

I like to learn... and then share what I know as a resource for others around me.  I've recognized this innate drive for a long time.  I've built success in my current career from letting this drive guide me.  I am excited when people come to me for information.  And, as a training professional, people reach out to me from across the US to ask me questions about instructional design and use of technology in learning.  And it energizes me.

But I started someplace.  And it wasn't pretty.

In my boss' office, with sticky notes on a wall.

It was the first training course I ever built that was going to be distributed to managers in the entire workforce.  Any manager in the company would see my training, from chef managers up through the VPs.  I'd have no problem with that at all today.  But there was this one thing: When I was assigned as the project lead 15 years ago, I had never developed a full training course before.  A lesson here and there on certain topics, yes.  But a three-hour classroom course that was going to be cascaded through the HR team to every manager up through the executive level of the company?

So, my boss had called me in her office to talk me through the content and how we could structure it. After my flailing a bit on where to begin with this seemingly massive project, we started with key ideas on sticky notes and then organized them into modules on her wall.  We spent hours just going back and forth - me not understanding the best ways to scaffold content and her just allowing the discussion to happen.  I remember feeling like an idiot during our entire work session.  But at the end, I walked away with a structure for what became my first classroom training program.

Something  emotional happened that day.  The stress of spending time in a place where I was the novice - of trying to do something that I'd never done before and struggling to find my way - was intense.  And it all hit me after the work session with my boss.  I remember taking a break to release a few tears at the lake.  Then coming back at it.  I just wanted it to be right and was totally afraid of embarrassing myself in front of executives with poor training.

Why am I sharing this story on a blog about my calling to music ministry?  Because I visited this emotional place again yesterday.  Of being a novice.  Of feeling inadequate to serve my calling.  And man, it was not pretty.

Let's just say, I struggled with self-doubt.  A lot of it.  And was lucky enough to have two Music Directors on hand to listen, receive, and respond to my cries.  I was comforted in their stories of similar feelings.  But, I admit, I hurt yesterday.  In my head, I was screaming, "I'm not worthy of this calling!"

Thankfully, memories of starting out in my training career have reminded me that this is just the beginning.

There is a flame that burns deep inside me.  And a few tears cannot drown it.

Lesson 1: Emotional Intelligence

And so I started my journey by scheduling regular meetings with my mentor, Wendel.  During our first meeting, I came with questions.  A bunch of them.  Our conversation quickly turned into my first lesson: As a church staff member, regardless of the role, it's important to be able to "read" people.  We started the discussion in the context of a music rehearsal - how can you tell who is engaged, who has questions but is too shy to ask, generalities around different personalities that might be present in a rehearsal.  We talked about body language and assumptions that might not accurately reflect what's going on.

But then a guest came into our lesson.  Our Minister of Faith Formation, Tandy, came in to say hi and stayed to join in our chat.  She provided a bunch of great examples of emotional intelligence outside of the context of a music rehearsal.  The three of us opened up the conversation to discuss what it's like to work with volunteers, how to open our eyes and listen louder than our ears to understand the needs of those in our community.  

I have to admit, this is a recurring theme of the past few conversations I've had with folks about leading music.  That it's as much about working with people as it is about creating music.  I made a joke at some point that maybe what I need isn't a music degree, but a psychology degree.  A friend noted that she should have two signs hanging from her studio door: "music lessons" and "therapy".

My guess is that since music touches us so close to the heart, we can't help but to bring our emotions into our rehearsals and performances.  That's what makes good music.  But it also means knowing what to do when those emotions come up.  And as a Music Director, with a volunteer group, it will be my role to support and encourage, which means looking deeper to recognize who may have a question, who may be struggling, who may be just having a bad day.  

Here's where I think I'm pretty lucky.  I've spent the bulk of my current career developing and delivering corporate training.  While it's not exactly teaching or directing music, it *IS* about people.  About knowing when there's a question in the room that everyone is too nervous to ask.  About recognizing the physical and emotional aspects that participants bring into a classroom with them.  About learning to handle tough situations with difficult participants.  About structuring content in a way to build on what people already know and give them confidence in their ability to learn more and do more.  

So, this week felt mostly like a win - a step in the right direction, a confirmation that I already have some of the skills I need to be successful.  Now if we all just lived in the Matrix and I could instantly download music theory, composition, arranging, and directing...

Step 3: Research

So, after all of the emotion and all of the passion and all of the joy and all of the tears ... comes all of the WORK.

I take that back ... comes all of the QUESTIONS.

Because, I know that there's a lot of work ahead of me.  But I have no idea where to start.  My mentors have given me some ideas, but the journey is mine to create.  That leaves me with a lot of questions...

• Do I need to get a music degree? 
• If yes, how do I figure out what school, what program, what courses...
• If no, how do I pick up some music theory, conducting, etc. skills I'll need?  
• How do I get practical experience?
• How do I get the knowledge and skills to not look like a fool while I'm getting experience?
• Will I qualify for the UUMN credentialing program?  
• How well do I need to be able to play piano?
• Should I take piano lessons?

So, I'm spending the next couple of weeks researching.  Looking online, talking to folks, consulting with my mentors, trying to come up with a development plan of my very own.

But there are also the more practical questions like...

• How do I create a financial plan for this career change?
• Should I try to expand my consulting business to supplement my income?
• What should the timeline for leaving my day job look like?

Ahhh... That last question.  It is *SO* difficult to find joy in my current work environment.  Through no fault of my boss or co-workers, I have been challenged to keep myself engaged in my day job.  Now that I've figured out what I really want to do, I know what I don't want to do, and it's a struggle to keep focused on a job that's just paying the bills.  I'm hoping that getting my financial plan together will remind me WHY I need my day job for at least another year or two.  There are credit card debts to be settled and savings to accrue before I make any sudden moves.  And if I need to pay for schooling or lessons, even more reason.  So the faster I can get a plan on paper, the better.

It's tough.  I see the vision and I want it all now.  But I also want to be responsible and well prepared to be the best Music Director I can be.  Patience.

Patience.