This year’s Olympic Trials is the race I’ve been training
for my entire professional running career.
During all the downs of my running career over the past few years, I’ve
made myself feel better by remembering the ultimate goal is to be ready for the
Olympic Trials, 2016. And now it is
almost here. I can’t come out of this
race telling myself, “it’s okay, you’ve got a bigger picture to think of.” This is the big picture.
I have a hard time comprehending all that is on the
line. And, quite frankly, I don’t want
to dwell on it. I will say that there
are large differences between the have and have nots in track, and the
difference between getting 3rd place instead of 4th place
would have an incredible effect on my career. How can I stay calm and collected when I know
what is at stake?
I’ve thought about how other people approach high-pressure
races. The few accounts I’ve read of
very successful athletes seem to paint their mentality all in a similar light –
their careers were so fruitful because they were so determined on winning. They trained, eat, slept winning. Failure was not an option.
While this makes sense to me, and I know there are benefits
of that drive to win, I can’t, and don’t want, to have that kind of
thinking. In my first couple years as an
undergraduate, I made myself sick with stress about my athletic
performance. It seemed like so much was
on the line. Certain things were –
getting to travel to meets, scholarship money, media attention, admiration, not
getting yelled at by the soccer coach.
But some things I thought were on the line, were in fact not – my worth
as a person, my identity, my relationships.
I was improving and performing well, but it wasn’t until I was able to
separate my running success from my personal value, that I was really able to
break out. And this separation came
about when I no longer felt I had to perform at the very best of my ability
every time I stepped on the line. I grew
to realize it was enough to try to perform as well as I could on that day (and
that doesn’t even mean going 100% all the time, as I talked about in my last
post). I learned this lesson again after recovering from the depression and
athletic burnout that hit me my last two years of college. After I was freed from my own demons of pressure
to perform, I not only excelled again, but I had so much fun doing it.
So, over the past year or so, I’ve been using meditating and
yoga to practice relaxing and coming into the present moment. I’ve also used positive imagery to see myself
doing well in races. I’ve used positive
self-talk ease my nerves, “You are in-shape and ready to run fast. You are tough enough, talented enough, and
have put in the work to run well.” But
I’ve also had to tell myself, “it’s okay if you don’t win. It’s okay if you don’t hit your goals.” Letting myself off the hook on an
intellectual level lets me be more calm, which in turn lets me run with more
freedom, both in my muscles and my mind.
I don’t think this has hindered my performance; I am an incredibly
competitive person, and my will to win and to challenge myself and others is
there as long as I’m not struggling against depression, burnout, or too much
self-imposed pressure.
Another incredibly special, but also difficult aspect of the
race, is how many people are coming to support me. My brother is biking to
Eugene from Denver. My best friend is
bringing her 6-month-old baby. My neighbors and family friends are coming for
the entire week, even though they have rarely watched track before. My boyfriend and parents are taking a week
off of work. They are making big
sacrifices to come support me. But I
know they are there to support me as a person, and while they will be ecstatic
to celebrate with me after a great race, they will also be glad to be there to
hug me if the race doesn’t go as well as I hope it will.
I am already feeling anxious about the Trials; like I said,
there is so much on the line, and I have so many wonderful people coming to
Eugene to support me. Even though it
sounds counter-intuitive, I am trying to play the race down for the sake of my
sanity and my performance. I am
reminding myself I am so much more than my performance – I am the total badass
who came back from surgery, trained with my boyfriend and long-distance
coaches, and got into the best shape of my life. All the people coming to cheer me on will
love me whether I finish last or first.
My decision to run has never been about the financial rewards or
recognition, or I would have quit long ago.
And, although this is a big one, there are many more races in my bigger
picture.