It's a Relay, Not a Marathon

We're all exhausted. We were exhausted weeks ago. Hyperconnected modern life did not equip us with the mental health resilience and ability to self-regulate that social distancing in the long-term requires.

The bad news? We're still at the beginning of how we navigate COVID and its impacts. The good news? It's a relay, not a marathon.

The loss of our normal routines has opened us like our schedules, and we drift from new ways of being uncomfortable into still others. And still, we're in the early stages.

Loss of the Old Ways

We tire of pantry suppers, listless after yet another Netflix binge. We cannot rest into long-enough sleeps and we strain at the flat and unyielding two-dimensionality of our most beloved connections.

Everything we held so casually, before COVID, turns out to have been so much more precious and beautiful than we knew at the time. We marvel about how, just a few months ago, we were so carefree.

COVID has shown me gaps in our empathy and support systems that I am unable to stomach. All around me, I see people paralyzed by the misplaced hope that someone will come to help or save them. You've heard the line from June Jordan’s poem, "We are the ones we have been waiting for.”

Right now, that statement feels like both a blessing and a curse.

We are wrenched awake into the unforgiving exponentials of the pandemic, trying to negotiate with someone, anyone, to let us go back to normal. But there is no going back. Our world will never be the same.

The only way out is through. This is a hero's journey.

We must survive this crisis with our hearts intact. We must get ready to shoulder the responsibility to build the new world faster than the old one falls away. (It falls away so much quicker than we thought, doesn't it?)

Those of us who have the ability to imagine a better world have a responsibility to co-create it together. You're here, reading this, so it's up to you. Look around you, this is who we have on deck. We are the ones we have been waiting for.

Despite the exhaustion and the fear, there is a part of each of us at this moment that does not hide from the rush of change our world is in right now. We see the need and we do not shrink away.

There is steadiness in knowing who you can depend on, and that we're in this together. We're not in a children's story; no one has guaranteed us or our planet a happy end. If you don't like how something is done, change it. If you can raise your voice, raise it.

All around us, the level of planetary suffering will surge if we let our systems collapse. And yet, they must transform to meet our new needs in this post-COVID world. What happens next is very much up to us.

Crisis in Slow-Motion 

It helps to think of big changes like this as a long-term thing. COVID isn't something that just happened. It's happening, and for the world as a whole, we're just starting to feel its impacts. How COVID happens around the world, especially in poor countries with crowded cities, is still up to us. We can rally and refuse to let others suffer, while we sit behind the frosty glow of our screens.

I know we're tired, exhausted even. I do have one good piece of news for you. A relay, not a marathon, means that you can rest.

If you've been on the frontlines like many of my colleagues, building national hospitals and coordinating health systems, ensuring supply chains to refugee camps and creating safety nets for survivors of intimate partner violence, I’m here to remind you that you need rest too.

In times of crisis, it's way too easy to push ourselves too hard. But we expect global COVID disruptions to continue into 2021, so it's time to pace ourselves.

The rush to respond to the pandemic has left us all feeling overstretched and under-resourced. Who wouldn't be?

There's the stress of infection, separation from loved ones, and work insecurity, plus the stress of social distancing and whatever lockdown situation you find yourself in. People living in abusive home situations have it the worst, and the psychological impact of lockdown on people living alone is also significant.

If you're a well-resourced leader, it means you have community around you. And being in community means you can rest. A fundamental function of support is that you can take a step back and let others take the lead.

You don't need to exhaust yourself in old leadership archetypes of martyrdom and misplaced productivity.

Step into your community and take some well-deserved rest. (If this kind of community support isn't something you have yet, but you want to create it, sign up for my email list because I write about this a lot.) While you're resting, someone else will be running their stretch of the relay, working to do their part, taking their turn.

I talk a lot about self-care and leadership, but without a community, we cannot be healthy. Knowing that others care for our well-being creates a sense of belonging that makes us feel safe.

Around the world, there are so many of us who care about the wellbeing of people and the planet. We're usually so busy doing our work that we rarely acknowledge just how many of us there are within this global network of changemaking, but we are powerful.

Wherever you are, whatever you are doing, I know that you're doing your part to be in service to the good of your community. To me, that's what leadership is — service.

If you have been in service — to your family, your children, your work, your boss, your volunteering, your community — it means you get to rest too. Claim some space and time for yourself to replenish. Others will carry on for a while, and the work will still be there when you're ready to get back.

If rest seems hard to believe, that's a sign you need it most.

A Folk Fable 

A quick story for you about the necessity of rest for long-term sustainability.

Two woodcutters had a competition to see who can cut the highest number of logs the fastest. The first woodcutter works tirelessly, never stopping, swinging her axe as the sweat flies from their brow. Her wood stacks up.

The second woodcutter works but every now and then, stops, steps away, and takes a rest from the chopping. After a short time, she resumes again, cutting the wood that stacks up.

At the end of the day, the wood from each was tallied and the second woodcutter wins. It was clear the second woodcutter had worked much less time than the first, so the people asked her how she won. She said, "I took the time to stop and sharpen my axe."

We need you to rest so that the work can continue in the morning, after the weekend, after you take a much-needed day off.

We need you to rest because we need you with us, not for the race but for the whole journey.

So go rest, unplug, take a nap, lie on the floor doing nothing, go to sleep early and sleep in late.

We'll be right here when you get back.