Negative Nancy
I was just reviewing the last year or so of blog posts, and I couldn't help but notice the overall mood is pretty bleak. Sprinkled here or there are little glimmers of hope, but they're usually followed by a smack down or an extended period when I don't post.
A couple of years ago I was on a high (for me). I'd lost a bunch of weight, was racing well (for me), and was determined to keep the good times rolling. I failed. I gained the weight back and began a string of disappointing finishes or non-finishes.
This is odd, because riding a bike makes me feel better. I solve all of the world's problems during a ride. I scream profanities at the wind and work out all of the day's tensions, instead of taking them out on my family. I ride that endorphin rush for all it's worth, and it's glorious.
Some people would say that the problem is that I tie my standards of success or failure too much to how I measure up against others, that competition is the problem. I should just ride my bike and throw away the bike computer and power meter. Ride as the mood strikes me, and forget any sort of structured training. Get a single speed town bike and ride around in skinny jeans. Maybe start a hemp farm...
Problem is, I would look really bad in skinny jeans. I would lose my security clearance if I started dabbling in hemp production. While the simplistic romance of a town bike seems appealing, I would constantly be looking for ways to make it go faster. In other words, that ain't me.
A lot of competitive athletes work on the mental game, realizing the power of positive thinking. In addition to truckloads of banned substances, George Hincapie employed a life coach to help him in that regard. Over the years, I've read quite a few books on how to improve your performance with mental gymnastics. I've attended seminars and watched videos. While here or there I've picked up a trick or two, usually my response is:
"Well, duh."
For example, I attended a John C. Maxwell leadership seminar last year. Actually, it was a video of a seminar played in an auditorium. At any rate, I was underwhelmed. While I found the concepts presented in this seminar quite obvious, like Mr. Maxwell phoned this one in to generate some revenue, others in the audience and on the video were nodding emphatically and taking copious notes. These people were completely engaged, and in some ways I envied them. These were the types that were going to go out and apply the concepts as presented, with a fair chance of success if they were consistent. These were the believers.
I'm generally a cynic. A critical cynic. A sarcastic, critical, cynic. A pessimistic, sarcastic, critical, cynic. A hyper-analytical, pessimistic, sarcastic, critical, cynic... OK, I'm an asshole.
All I've learned over the years is that while nobody is a unique little snowflake, we all have our strengths and weaknesses. You leverage your strengths to mitigate your weaknesses. Trying to force yourself into a predefined mold that is ill-suited for your characteristics is a sure path to eventual failure. That's not to say that you shouldn't try new things or approaches, but trying to be something that you're not generally grinds you down. I've done it during my life, multiple times, and I'll probably do it again because I'm not all that smart.
I grew up thinking I was a special snowflake, that I was somehow better than everyone else. After a lifetime of being shown my deficiencies in a multitude of arenas by people far more gifted than I could ever dream to be, I'm left with the realization that I'm better than some people in some regards and worse than some people in others. If I can feel engaged in what I'm doing, balancing my strengths and weaknesses, I'm generally a lot more happy about how life is going.
I know if I just ride around and do whatever I feel like, eventually I won't push myself. I'll gain a bunch of weight. My meager performance will take a dive. I won't be able to keep up with the people I used to crush. I'll get all depressed about that and eventually go into a negative spiral that will manifest itself in all sorts of ways. I need to have goals and expectations of myself. Occasionally (often) I won't meet them, and I'll beat myself up or realize they weren't realistic for whatever reason. That's just life. As long as I'm moving forward and not reasoning myself into mediocrity, I'm good with that.
Last season didn't go as planned. This winter wasn't as productive as I hoped. Last Saturday was a wash. It all doesn't matter. I'm still going to get out there and vent my frustrations, turning the wind blue with my profanities. I'm going to keep trying to turn the Titanic that is my cycling life around because I want to and it makes me happy. Plus, running into an iceberg doesn't sound like a lot of fun.
That's just how I roll.
A couple of years ago I was on a high (for me). I'd lost a bunch of weight, was racing well (for me), and was determined to keep the good times rolling. I failed. I gained the weight back and began a string of disappointing finishes or non-finishes.
This is odd, because riding a bike makes me feel better. I solve all of the world's problems during a ride. I scream profanities at the wind and work out all of the day's tensions, instead of taking them out on my family. I ride that endorphin rush for all it's worth, and it's glorious.
Some people would say that the problem is that I tie my standards of success or failure too much to how I measure up against others, that competition is the problem. I should just ride my bike and throw away the bike computer and power meter. Ride as the mood strikes me, and forget any sort of structured training. Get a single speed town bike and ride around in skinny jeans. Maybe start a hemp farm...
Problem is, I would look really bad in skinny jeans. I would lose my security clearance if I started dabbling in hemp production. While the simplistic romance of a town bike seems appealing, I would constantly be looking for ways to make it go faster. In other words, that ain't me.
A lot of competitive athletes work on the mental game, realizing the power of positive thinking. In addition to truckloads of banned substances, George Hincapie employed a life coach to help him in that regard. Over the years, I've read quite a few books on how to improve your performance with mental gymnastics. I've attended seminars and watched videos. While here or there I've picked up a trick or two, usually my response is:
"Well, duh."
For example, I attended a John C. Maxwell leadership seminar last year. Actually, it was a video of a seminar played in an auditorium. At any rate, I was underwhelmed. While I found the concepts presented in this seminar quite obvious, like Mr. Maxwell phoned this one in to generate some revenue, others in the audience and on the video were nodding emphatically and taking copious notes. These people were completely engaged, and in some ways I envied them. These were the types that were going to go out and apply the concepts as presented, with a fair chance of success if they were consistent. These were the believers.
I'm generally a cynic. A critical cynic. A sarcastic, critical, cynic. A pessimistic, sarcastic, critical, cynic. A hyper-analytical, pessimistic, sarcastic, critical, cynic... OK, I'm an asshole.
All I've learned over the years is that while nobody is a unique little snowflake, we all have our strengths and weaknesses. You leverage your strengths to mitigate your weaknesses. Trying to force yourself into a predefined mold that is ill-suited for your characteristics is a sure path to eventual failure. That's not to say that you shouldn't try new things or approaches, but trying to be something that you're not generally grinds you down. I've done it during my life, multiple times, and I'll probably do it again because I'm not all that smart.
I grew up thinking I was a special snowflake, that I was somehow better than everyone else. After a lifetime of being shown my deficiencies in a multitude of arenas by people far more gifted than I could ever dream to be, I'm left with the realization that I'm better than some people in some regards and worse than some people in others. If I can feel engaged in what I'm doing, balancing my strengths and weaknesses, I'm generally a lot more happy about how life is going.
I know if I just ride around and do whatever I feel like, eventually I won't push myself. I'll gain a bunch of weight. My meager performance will take a dive. I won't be able to keep up with the people I used to crush. I'll get all depressed about that and eventually go into a negative spiral that will manifest itself in all sorts of ways. I need to have goals and expectations of myself. Occasionally (often) I won't meet them, and I'll beat myself up or realize they weren't realistic for whatever reason. That's just life. As long as I'm moving forward and not reasoning myself into mediocrity, I'm good with that.
Last season didn't go as planned. This winter wasn't as productive as I hoped. Last Saturday was a wash. It all doesn't matter. I'm still going to get out there and vent my frustrations, turning the wind blue with my profanities. I'm going to keep trying to turn the Titanic that is my cycling life around because I want to and it makes me happy. Plus, running into an iceberg doesn't sound like a lot of fun.
That's just how I roll.
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