Pretty much how I’ve been spending most of my time lately. AKA: gymnastics training!
Starting is terrifying. Like super freaking scary. Or rather, the moment right before the start, the instant before you commit – that is the truly terrifying part because it is in that moment that you need to make a decision: are you in or are you out? It was that instant I always dreaded when racing as a rower. All eight of you have your oars in the water and are just floating there (mind, you are floating in a boat a hair past a butt wide – you feel every fidget, every piece of nervous energy) waiting to hear the horn, and waiting for the race to unfold. On the one hand I would sit in my seat wishing that that stupid horn would never blow. Wishing that I could somehow be transported back to shore, back to a place where it didn’t feel like impending death and back to a place where I didn’t have 2000m of pain in front of me (well technically behind me if we’re being literal…) But on the other hand I would sit there, blade ready, willing that horn to blow so that I could dive into the experience – and also so that I could start kicking some serious butt. Duh.
I think part of me always doubted myself as an athlete because of that first impulse – that desire to not be there, to not be in that moment. I thought that such an impulse translated to me not being a true competitor, because true competitors don’t dread the fight they anticipate it, right? How could I ever be fierce if I wasn’t fearless?
This is a question that has been coming up for me a lot lately. This question of can I even aspire to greatness knowing that fear will forever be part of that journey. And to be honest, I’m still a little stuck on the answer. A couple months ago I started to flirt with the idea of not only being a coach, but also being an athlete. Pressure, fear, tension – these were all elements inherent to my rowing career. Lots of happy things were there too of course, but I was tangibly aware at all times of not only the work that needed to be done in order to be great, but also the fear that I wouldn’t be able to do it. When I joined Verve 6 months ago I decided to take all the pressure off – to have zero expectations and thus none of the stressors that came along with rowing. Marvelous idea. Except when I realized that I wanted expectations. I wanted to care. And I wanted to tangibly feel the work. I wanted to strive to be better, and such elevation of the self requires awareness of the effort needed to do so.
I would love to be able to wrap this up neatly, but I can’t. Because it isn’t neat. And because I haven’t figured it out yet. That’s why I’ve hesitated to write in the last few weeks. And I’m thinking this may be part 1 of the, “I’m Totally Freaking Out” series… I think the scariest thing about deciding to try to be a competitive athlete again is that I have found myself at the moment I most dread in competing – the moment before everything starts. But it does start. All you have to do is start. Possessing fear does not mean that you are weak, or that you will shy away from moments of greatness. It can if you let it. But it also lets you know when you are exactly where you are supposed to be. We are fearful because whatever lies on the other side is significant – because we have something to lose if we fail. But the real question is: what is it really that we have to lose?
We like to hold on to outcomes as if they are binary: we win or we lose. Two choices. One option for success. And we continually ask ourselves if we are good enough. Are we good enough to win? It is that question that so often dictates whether or not we start. But, does the answer really matter? The good thing about racing – the answer to that question can’t matter. You are out there no matter what. You have to start. And you do. And you race. And it is glorious despite who crosses the finish line first. Don’t let that answer matter. Just start. And so that’s what I’m doing: I’m starting.
Thanks! I relate to this entry a lot. I go back and forth on why I am competing. I guess more then if I win or lose, I want to see what level of fitness I can get. How far I can go, unfortunately it feels like you have to “win” to continue but that’s not true. Winning or losing are just a stepping stones of getting better.
Thanks Anna! Such good advice, especially because sometimes we learn the most when we don’t win – but, those experiences give us the ability to do so.
wait, so mads, what are you competing at nowadays?
we need to catch up again soon pleaaase. not only cause i want to hear more about how you are doing etc, but also i have questions/advice requests from you.
oxoxo hope all is well
Yes the start is the hardest but the results, win or lose, teach us lessons about ourselves, our resolve, our commitment and so much more; the lessons can not be learned if we never start! Thanks Mad!
Thanks Darbs. And thank you for being one of the first people to teach me this lesson. I still remember bursting into tears when you told me that I needed to break 8 min on my 2k, because I didn’t think I could do it. Well one breakdown and one 2k later, you proved me wrong, and taught me to have a whole lot more faith in myself. Thank you for that, Darbs.
I totally agree about the anxiety of the start! I hated it in rowing and now with Crossfit it is the 3, 2, 1 countdown that makes me nervous. Competing for me always goes hand in hand with the fear that I won’t push myself to my edge or that I won’t give a 100%. In rowing, you make a deal with the rest of your boat that you will all push yourselves to the limit and cross the finish line giving it everything you have! I always hated the warm up, because that was when those feelings of doubt and fatigue would sneak in, but once the race started, my mind would snap over and I would be in the moment. The more I compete, the more I am able to trust myself and my training. I have faith that I can erase those thoughts of doubts and just do what needs to be done. The real test is putting yourself in the position to be vulnerable and to try for something you believe in! Thanks for sharing Mads!
I sooo can relate. I like not caring as well… but inevitably, as becoming decent at this whole crossfit thing is more and more tangible it’s hard not want to see how far I could actually take it if I put everything I have into it. I use the fact that I am going to grad school all the time, but then I think – what if I can make it work in grad school?? I figure the moment it starts to become something negative in my life, I’ll stop. But until then might as well see where it goes!
Danielle,
That is one of the rules that I live by in all aspects of my life. I will continue to do something until it no longer imparts a positive impact on my life. That doesn’t mean that something can’t be challenging, but that the challenge still needs to elevate me in some way. I say go for it, and it may help keep you sane mid-grad school – or at the very least feeling like a total bad ass while sitting in class!
- PGC
Good post! I was reminded of a NYTimes piece I read last week, “Why Can Some Kids Handle Pressure While Others Fall Apart?” Its focus was on academic performance, particularly with high-stakes testing, but it’s more broadly applicable to any kind of pressure. In fact, after a long time talking about the genetics of dealing with stress, there was this:
“the science of elite performance has drawn a different conclusion about short-term stress. Studies that compare professionals with amateur competitors — whether concert pianists, male rugby or female volleyball players — show that professionals feel just as much anxiety as amateurs. The difference is in how they interpret their anxiety. The amateurs view it as detrimental, while the professionals tend to view stress as energizing. It gets them to focus. A similar mental shift can also help students in test-taking situations.”
It goes on to talk about some research supporting this view, which is all to say: embrace the stress of starting–it more or less is what you make it.
John,
I’m psyched that there is actually a study out about this, because it is an aspect of competition that has always fascinated me. Or more so, can we condition ourselves to process our nervous energy differently than fear? My goal over the next year is to make myself a case study in this experience. Piece of chocolate every time I manage to shift my perspective around? I’m thinking it could work…
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Hi! I rowed in college too and can totally relate! I’m loving your site!
So glad to hear that Amy – especially coming from a rower – not that I’m totally biased or anything