I started riding a bike on gravel two years ago. When I first learned people were doing this, I thought, “Why would anyone choose to do that?”
Then I did it.
As the people I was doing it with predicted would happen, I spent more money on a bike than I ever thought I would. Did you know there is a type of bike built specifically for gravel? And just because I’m self-conscious about the possibility of you having horrible thoughts about me, I chose the version just above the lowest cost model. Not a fortune, but still more than I thought I would ever spend. I digress.
It’s really fun. You ride through the countryside of Iowa. Rolling hills. Very few cars. If you’re not trying to set world records, it’s quite enjoyable. Two weeks ago, and only because one of the people I ride with set it up, I went 101 miles. At mile 86, we had a planned break to stock up on fluid and food. It wasn’t intended to be long. Just fill our water bottles up, maybe grab a quick snack and go.
As we pulled into the convenience store, everything in my brain and body was saying, “You’re done.” I said to Louis and Frank, “I’m gonna call my wife to come pick me up.”
They said, “You’re not going to do that. You’re going to finish this.” Right then, in that precise moment, I knew they were wrong. I appreciated their encouragement and certainty, but I knew what was happening inside me. It was stop time.
They sat me down and said, “We know what it’s like to bonk. You haven’t bonked.” Bonking, I learned, is kind of a non-technical, biker-person phrase for being at your limit.
They outlined the game plan. We were going to sit in the air conditioning for 10 minutes. I was going to grab a Coke (in addition to the water) and start to drink it. They gave me a GU packet and told me to eat it. One of them had some potato chips, and I asked if it would be OK to have some of those. They said that might be a good thing, so, I had some.
In 10 minutes, my heart rate had calmed down, my body temperature had lowered (it was 90-95 degrees and humid that day), and I had done some refueling.
We climbed back on our bikes and, with them leading the way, I not only rode 16 more miles, but also maintained a pretty decent clip. I wouldn’t have done it without them. I was grateful to have finished. I was probably more grateful for them.
Here’s the point. There was a moment when I had to answer the question, “Do they know more, or do I?”
Everything in me wanted to trust that I knew more. I knew my body. I’m the only one who knew what I was feeling and thinking. My body was saying, “Be done.” I really don’t think this is a silly perspective. Lots of times, what our bodies are telling us is spot on.
But Louis and Frank have both been biking for 25-30 years and not just recreationally. They are really good. They’ve ridden who knows how many 100-milers. They’ve had the experience of bonking. They’ve ridden with people like me, rather inexperienced, and coached them through the things I was feeling. They’ve spent thousands upon thousands of hours on both their bikes and their bike trainers. They knew I could make it. And they knew what I needed to do in order to get to the finish line.
Why share this story?
In some ways, a good relationship with our clients comes down to a handful of things. One of those things is whether a client trusts that we know more than they do about the type of investing we do at Foster Group. This is a bit of a generalization, but if a client believes he or she knows more than we do about our way of investing, their experience is typically bad.
Believing you know more is different than being curious and asking questions, even challenging our perspective. That’s fine. We welcome it.
Also, I don’t have a problem with someone thinking, “You know what? I know more than they do.” That, too, is fine. Maybe they do. We try to practice humility here. Objectively, Louis and Frank know more than I do about biking. I’d like to think that we know more than the average person about the way we invest dollars, but I’ll admit that it’s a bit more subjective.
But here’s the point: if you do think you know more, it’s probably best to be honest about it and not become a client. Either invest by yourself or find someone that you think knows as much or more than you.
About five minutes into that final break on the ride, I had this thought, “Maybe Louis and Frank know more than I do. Trust them.” At that point, I was in.
Truth is they could have been wrong. Maybe my initial feeling was right and at some point in the last 16 miles, I would have stopped. But the odds favored Louis and Frank, not me. It turns out that they did know more. It turns out, it was a good idea to trust them. I rode 101 miles!