The life lessons of faceplanting

Peaty, a little sour, a little salty. This isn’t the flavor profile of a good Irish whiskey; this is the taste of old leaves and dirt in my mouth as my eyes stare at the rock I almost embedded in my forehead. Shortly before my left foot caught the tip of a rock, my mind had lost focus on the trail before me and instead had started doom-storming about personal problems. Nothing feels as humbling as unexpectedly lying face down in the dirt without warning.

The flappy toe cap of my tried and true trail shoes

faceplant — noun — The act of landing face first, as a result of an accident or error. A sudden face-first fall.

What is the root cause of faceplanting, whether on the trails, at work, or in my personal life? In my experience, a faceplant usually happens when one or more of the following are happening —

1. This is new, and I need to build skills to get better. The faceplant is a pointer to where I need to grow.

2. I’ve lost focus on what matters. In this case, the technical features of the trail.

3. My mind has started to focus on negative outcomes. For example, a previous faceplant occurred while thinking about the need to be careful because if I rolled my ankle, it would have a long chain of negative consequences.

4. There is something in my life that I am holding on to even when it no longer serves me. For example, my beloved trail shoes developed a flappy toe cap that is much easier to catch on a rock.