The art of letting go - maria d. Winters, PhD.

A running memory that will always stick out in my mind was my first 5k that I ever ran on the track. I vomited before the race. Yes, before. I awoke that morning riddled with anxiety over the race. I ended up running like garbage, posting a time that was SLOWER than my cross country 5k time. The pressure and anxiety that came with racing has been a staple throughout my running career. I sabotaged myself more times than I would like to admit. There were a variety of different reasons this would happen, but all of them involved my ego. “If I don’t run a certain time,  I suck”. Or an even more ridiculous statement, “If I don’t run faster than so-and-so, I suck.” And of course, we can’t forget my personal favorite “If I don’t win, I suck.” What do these all have in common? They are all very outcome driven goals that I have very little control over, and thus serve as bait for the ‘ol race anxiety. Like flies on crap, anxiety LOVES to attach itself to things we can’t control. And, to be clear, I am not talking about the excitement/adrenaline fueled energy that comes along with racing. I am talking about barfing in the bathroom and sucking down Imodium so I don’t crap  myself waiting in line for the port-a-potty kind of energy. Perhaps you have been visited by such “energy” yourself. Maybe it made you think racing wasn’t for you or that there was something wrong with you. Maybe you even took the approach of not caring or trying, giving yourself an out so that you wouldn’t be afflicted with these horrible feelings of dread. If you don’t care, anxiety can’t get you, right?
 
Over the last 13 months I have done less running in my life than I ever have, as you all know. Perhaps little Colton Kleppe is reading this right now and thinking to himself “Why would I want to take racing advice written by someone who hasn’t raced in over a year?” Well, Colton, I’ll tell you why: I have perspective.
 
When I think about my mental approach to racing (and running in general, honestly) it was like I had this death grip on running. Like I was squeezing it so hard it’s freaking eyeballs were popping out. This mentality came from a good place with good intentions, but it really never panned out the way I wanted it to. It’s like if you had a crush on someone and you followed them everywhere, texted them nonstop, visited them at work, sent them pictures of you scarfing down hog island every night – they would probably be horrified and want nothing to do with you. It was like that with running sometimes. Like the more I chased it and the more I wanted a certain goal, the more impossible it became.  I had to learn to let go.
 
I was always at my worst (aka: had the tightest death grip on running) when I trained alone. I would obsess over my splits in a workout, ruminate over an upcoming race for WEEKS, and meticulously analyze my running log, often comparing similar workouts from previous years. It was unhealthy, to say the least. It wasn’t until I finally started training with the team (you losers) that I finally learned to at least loosen the death grip slightly. When I was training with a group, my attention and focus was no longer on myself. Ironically, I could run faster and do workouts I could never have dreamed of doing alone when I was with the group. I think it’s safe to say there is a special magic amongst training with others. If you have ever done a workout alone before, I think you would probably agree that there is something special about being with the team. I was finally learning the subtle art of letting go. But then something else happened. Something I really, really didn’t want: I got injured. I have had a lot of time to think and reflect over the last year about my running. I thought about the things that really mattered (spoiler alert: it WASN’T all the races I was barfing over).  I almost laugh about it now. Like, really, what the hell was I so worked up about? The worst thing that could have happened was that I would run slow, which ended up happening anyway because I was paralyzed with fear. The moments in running that I valued the most weren’t centered around the outcome of a performance. They are valuable moments to me because of the people I was surrounded by. The races that went amazing for me were always the ones that I didn’t really care about. I was loose. I was EXCITED walking to the starting line. I was actually taking a solid dump prior to it and not expelling molten lava. Most importantly, It was fun. Painful (it’s still racing), but it was fun. It was good energy. So what am I saying? I guess I am saying don’t care so much. Let it go. Just know that at the end of the day, it doesn’t really matter. The outcome of a race doesn’t define you. Your friends will like you if you don’t win. You can still go to hog island if the race doesn’t go well. A famous red-headed man wearing children’s Star Wars pajamas once said “It’s about the journey, not the destination”.  I disagree, Coach Rich. It’s neither. It’s about the company you surround yourself with.