Slow in, Quick out

I am one of those folks who likes to head into a new project at full throttle. When starting a new job I am energized and excited and generally spend an incredible amount of time and energy reading, learning, reflecting, developing a plan, and then acting. And generally that approach has served me well.

But as with so many strategies in life, a quick entry is not always the best approach. Sometimes you have to take it slow (what ever that might mean within a particular context), ease into the project, and then accelerate out. That is particularly true when you are entering some unknown territory, just like you do when riding through a curve.

Twenty-five percent of all motorcycle accidents involve only a single vehicle (nothing but the motorcycle) and 3/4 of those accidents involved over-braking or sliding the bike on the road, generally in a curve. Stated simply that means that the dirver entered the curve way too hot, panicked, grabbed the brake, and ended up in "collision with a fixed object" (DOT speak for "on a beautiful day with no one around the idiot was not paying attention and rammed his bike against the guardrail-road-telephone pole-etc.").

One of the most exciting parts of riding a bike is taking the curves at speed; there is a definite adrenalin rush as you lean the bike into the curve. That's fun. But there is also a rush when you smack your face onto the pavement or freak out and fixate on that wall that is drawing ever closer. That's stupid. The only real pucker moment I have had riding at speed was when I was getting cocky and entered a curve way too hot and realized that I needed more lean in the bike than my skills would probably allow me to achieve. I started looking at the wall as it got closer and closer, and it was only through the shear discipline affected by the teaching from good instructors that I tore my eyes away from the wall, looked down the road, and arrived home safe and sound ... though not without a bathroom stop prior ...

Over and over again instructors hammer into us: Slow in, Quick out. Watch the pros and you see this pattern every few seconds as they run the course. And these are the big boys and girls, folks with incredible skill riding machines that have been tested and re-tested and fine-tuned to travel safely at maximum lean through curves. But they slow down (relatively speaking) as they enter and then accelerate out of the curve: Slow in, Quick out. Experience has taught them the prudence and pragmatism of this approach, as if you want to win you have to finish, and a crash is not the kind of finish that leads to winning. It's a long race which is won not in any single curve but in prudent control of many curves.

And in normal riding, Slow in means paying very close attention to the posted speed limits for curves; they are not posted there just to piss people off or in an attempt to reduce personal freedom, but to keep everyone as safe as possible. The regulations are there to help, not hurt.

One of the hardest things to teach anyone who is excited about his/her profession is Slow in, Quick out. Most of us, when we come out of our educational programs, think we know it all (or just about all of it) and are ready to take on the world. Certainly this is true for clergy and I suspect the same principle applies to all professions; we are ready to go and tend to enter very quickly, certain that we can handle it. And sooner or later we find that we are moving way to fast for our abilities and either get lucky and avoid a crash ... or not. In my own life it has taken a long, long time to learn how to apply the principle of Slow in, Quick out to my profession. It's a long race which is won not in any single curve but in prudent control of many curves.

I personally believe that a contributing factor to the current economic crisis is the failure to apply this Slow in, Quick out concept appropriately. In an ever accelerating material world the demand for enormous and immediate profit over-ruled prudence and any sense of long range thinking. Enter fast and Exit faster seemed to be the operant norm. And riders of any skill level will testify that sooner or later you over reach with only one option left: a crash.

In riding it's one thing to make choices that - at least theoretically - involve only your own life. I say theoretically because the truth is that we all exist in relationship and any decision I make will have an effect on others. And ultimately there is no excuse for making choices that involve the lives of other innocent folk, like passengers, other riders, some guy walking his dog, or anyone else on the road. Such reckless behavior is immoral, all protestations of individual freedom aside. My freedom ends where it impacts the freedom of another, and crashing into someone else is a definite impact.

The reckless behavior of large businesses and the dismantling of appropriate reguations designed to protect people led to a crash from which many of the drivers emerged relatively unscathed even as they left others devastated in their wake. It is as though the rider of a motorcycle entered a curve far faster than safe for circumstances, hit a slick spot and went into a slide, but was able to dismount the bike as it careened through a crowd of people. Slightly scruffed up they could yell that the slick spot was not their fault (or that 'somebody' should have posted a warning!) and escape prosecution even as their insurance paid for the replacement of the bike. It is irresponsible and immoral but perfectly legal.

Slow win, Quick out. That's what not only wins the long race but keeps others safe as well.