It is the eve of the Ironman World Championship in Kona. The last - as far as we know - of the all women’s races. I have my tracker loaded with a few athletes I know, and a few I have yet to meet, and plan to check on them from time to time during my typically busy Saturday. This got me thinking about my challenges for next year, and my past experiences.
From now until the gun goes off, sleep will be fleeting and nerves will be screaming. This is your brain, trying its best to keep you alive. Close behind that survival instinct is, for some reason, embarrassment. Your brain hates to be embarrassed. So much so it looks for future opportunities that might cause embarrassment and try really hard to have you avoid them. Anything that looks remotely like a performance has some potential for failure, and that sets the warning lights flashing. I’m sure you will agree there are countless opportunities to suffer excruciating embarrassment during an Ironman race. So much so, it is a miracle anyone ever starts.
I am a big fan of Simon Marshall and the book he and his wife wrote, “The Brave Athlete, Calm the F*ck Down and Rise to the Occasion.” If you are racing tomorrow and haven’t read it, forget about it. You’re too late. Read it later to find out why you felt so insane before the race.
What works best for me is to catch myself thinking about what might happen and replace those thoughts with what I am doing right now. Often, that is as simple as breathing. One of my coaches used the phrase time travel. I found that useful. Whenever I find myself fretting about something negative in my past (previous races, bad crashes on a training ride), or something bad that might happen in the race (a deer runs onto the bike course and takes out the bike in front of you, and you can’t avoid hitting them), I try to laugh, or at least sigh, acknowledge by brain trying to be helpful, and return my focus to what I am doing right then and there. This takes practice, but it works.
There was a time when I fancied myself working my way to the front of my ever diminishing age group, even winning a Kona slot. Right now, that feels out of reach. But I haven’t given up. I can still swim, bike, and run, which is more than I can say for most people my age. My why has been “Because I still can,” and I think that suits me perfectly. I’m alive, and still going. Not strong, maybe, but moving forward.
Best of luck to all of the women tomorrow. Remember the mantra, focus on things you have control over, and ignore the things you have no control over. Oh, and do watch for deer and goats crossing the Queen K!