This month, new cycling machines were brought into the fitness club where I work out. They record the rider’s heart rate, calories, distance travelled and cycling speeds. But the new machines do more. They give us opportunity to select a course to ride and we can watch our progress on computer screens that face us at eye level. I can select a hill-free ride around a lake but other selections let me increase the level of difficulty all the way to a simulated alpine climb. As I cycle along the trail, avatar riders appear on the screen and ride with me. Sometimes they pass me. More often I see them up ahead and cycle harder so I can pass them.
What kind of craziness is this? I am riding a machine, competing against virtual (non-existent) computer generated images, determined to beat them out and not let any of them get past me. I know that by playing this game I am getting a better workout. I know, too, that if I push the button on the bicycle machine to turn off the cycling game and watch television instead, I will slow down and have a less effective workout. Instead I stay with the competition and keep pushing to do better than the riders on the screen, working to go beyond what I did last time I was on the bike.
I have learned that I’m a very competitive person. Competition motivates me and pushes me to keep improving. I don’t like to settle for less than my best. And I don’t like to lose. Surprising, perhaps, I don’t like to see other people lose either. When the Olympic Games make their appearance on television, I rarely watch because I feel so sad about the athletes who train for years then lose.
My competition on that bicycle and in other parts of my life is competition with myself. I don’t have much interest in defeating the other guy. I want to see everybody do well even though I also want to win. Often the excitement for me is not so much in the outcome; the fun and excitement is in the pushing, the doing. Writing a book and doing it well is more fulfilling than seeing the bound volume when it comes in the mail. When the writing is done I don’t bother to celebrate. I prefer to turn to the next project and keep moving, hoping to do better next time than I did previously.
Many years ago I asked a successful business man in our church if he was satisfied with the company he had built and the direction of his career.
“Of course not,” he responded. “That’s why I’m successful.”
What’s your perspective on competition?
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