Don’t Get Too Good to Be a Beginner

As a firearms and defensive tactics instructor, I spend a lot of time watching people work through things they haven’t figured out yet. I can see when somebody’s frustrated. I can also see the moment they slow down, listen to a correction, and give themselves a chance to get it right.

Then I go train jiu-jitsu, and it’s my turn to be the guy who needs the correction.

I think that’s good for me. It’s easy to tell someone to relax and trust what you’re teaching them. It feels different when you’re the one stuck on the bottom, using way too much energy, and somebody tells you to relax.

You can spend years getting good at something and still have a hard time being new at something else. The better you get at the first thing, the easier it is to spend all your time there. People know what you’re good at. They come to you for it. You know how to walk into that room and carry yourself.

Walk into a room where you’re new, and all of a sudden you’re wondering where to stand.

When being good gets comfortable

Being a beginner was easier for me to understand when I had no other choice. When you walk into the police academy for the first time, you expect to have a lot to learn. Everybody does. You can ask a basic question and there’s a decent chance someone else was hoping you’d ask it first.

Years later, when you’re the one teaching, it can feel like admitting you’re lost comes at a higher price. You’re used to being someone people count on. You’ve put work into getting there. There’s a part of you that wants to carry that competence into every room you walk into.

Jiu-jitsu has a way of cutting through that. If I’m stuck underneath somebody and I keep trying the same thing, it doesn’t matter how well I can explain it afterward. I’m still stuck. I can burn the rest of the round trying to muscle my way out, or I can ask my training partner what they felt me doing and give their answer an honest try.

That second option sounds obvious when I’m sitting here writing it. In the moment, I’d still rather figure it out myself. That’s where I have to catch myself. Am I trying to solve the problem, or am I trying to be the guy who solved it without help?

You can be proud of what you’ve earned and still ask for help

I earned my blue belt in 2022 through an Adopt A Cop BJJ sponsorship. I’m proud of it. And I still walk onto the mats with questions. A lot of questions.

I think about that when I’m teaching. It’s easy to forget how much it can take for somebody to raise their hand in a room full of people and say, “Can you show me that again?” Especially when they think everybody else got it. Spending time on the other side of that exchange reminds me to give people a second to ask and enough time to try the correction for themselves.

It also makes me pay attention to how I take feedback. If I ask somebody why an escape isn’t working and spend their whole answer explaining why I did it my way, I’ve wasted a chance to learn. Maybe I had a good reason. I can still listen, try what they suggested, and see what happens.

That applies to making a podcast, too. There’s a difference between asking someone if they liked an episode and asking them where they stopped listening. One question gets you an easy answer. The other might tell you that you took too long to get to the part of the conversation that mattered. That’s something you can work on before you record again.

Give yourself a chance to get past the first day

Think about something you’ve been meaning to do for a while. Maybe you’ve looked up the same gym six times. Maybe you have a business idea you’ve only talked through with people who already like it. Maybe you’ve been wanting to apply for a role where you’d have to learn from someone younger than you.

Ask yourself what you’re actually waiting on. Sometimes it’s time, money, or another real constraint. Sometimes you’ve got everything you need to take the next step, and what you’d really like is to skip the part where you’re awkward at it.

I get that. It feels good to be competent. It feels a lot less good to put your name on a rough draft or walk into a class and have to ask somebody where to put your shoes. But the first few times you do something are going to feel like the first few times. Give yourself enough time to find out how it feels once you’ve learned a little.

That’s one of the ways I think about relentlessness. Sometimes it’s going back for a second class after spending the first one confused. Sometimes it’s calling the person who gave you a hard piece of feedback and asking them to explain it. It can be pretty ordinary work. You just have to be willing to do it while you’re still getting the hang of it.

The challenge

What would you try this week if you were okay looking like a beginner?

Pick one thing you’ve been putting off. Before today’s over, take a step that puts you in a position to learn. Book the class. Send the rough draft to someone who’ll tell you where it needs work. Ask somebody who’s good at what you want to do if you can watch how they do it.

Then, after you’ve done it once, decide when you’ll go back. Give yourself a second chance to try the thing you learned the first time.

The Relentless Project — Real people. Real stories. Real fucking life.