Alright… granted I’ve seen an incredible amount of grit and determination this year from all of my runners, but this was our home meet, so it really left an impact on me. We have a “Killer” on our trails. Not some creepy guy out in the woods waiting to get arrested, but a notoriously difficult hill that comes at the end of races at our home meet. A hill that usually leaves runners from other school’s feeling dread the night before they ever get to the race.
As a coach, I find fear of something in the external environment an energy drainer to my runners. Therefore, I try and make sure our training not only includes the difficult climb of the Killer, but that we train past it into the ‘Dark Woods’… basically a muddier, rootier, and steeper trail. Our perspective of what is actually difficult shrinks throughout the season with rigorous training and repetition. We run more with our head than our legs after all.
Our home meet includes this Killer hill, and, as I said, most of the other teams in our Mountain Division want nothing to do with it — it shows on their faces on the starting line. Our team on the other hand, regular pre-race jitters aside, doesn’t fear the Killer. Instead they think about the advantage they have over the other teams. They know that this hill at the end of their race is a place where other runners will walk and self-question. They know that it is literally only 24 seconds if they walk it, and it won’t ruin their race time.
They know that they’ve done “King and Queen of Hill” — a ritual that every MS runner goes through to see how many times in 35 minutes they can get around the Killer hill. They also know that they have run 8 or more miles (consistently) every Wednesday for two months, and that their race is only 1.8 miles… I watch all of my runners’ faces as the Killer hill shrinks into more of a speed bump, rather than an obstacle to carry with them before and during the race. They know that it’s not the Killer that’s the issue, it’s the ‘idea’ of it, and the fear that the idea creates.
If you want to change performance, you have to change perspective.
After our runners have minimized their external obstacles on their race course, they turn and examine internally any fears they might be feeling. Fear of not doing as well as they would like, fear of not finishing a race, fear of overall elevation, or fear of looking bad in front of their friends or family. Instead of pushing that fear away, or acting like doesn’t exist, our runners acknowledge their fears, and they know that ALL fears come with an ‘expiration date.’ For some the fear starts the night before a race, and ends when the gun goes off. Others feel fear in the morning and carry it for some of a race, while others only see it go away once they cross the finish line. Whatever the time frame, they know it will not last. And by knowing their fear does not and cannot last forever, their fear of their fear becomes even smaller. By intentionally working to shrink these fears internally and externally, our runners are less likely to bleed out precious energy before the starting gun.
I always check in at some point with each of my runners following their races to hear how the race went for them. After the home meet they all described different experiences. Some said it was hot, which can change your physical abilities, but not your mental game if you stay mindful. Some thought the race was “cake,” and basically said that knowing they only had to go up the “Killer” once gave them the confidence that they would have a great race. Some threw up (some threw up twice) struggling to finish the race, and said they knew once they were across the finish line, their fear would be gone. One thing was clear: every one of my runners felt fear at some point in their race. It was the hard work they had done all season to gain perspective on the ‘shelf life’ of their fears that made all the difference in how much those fears ended up affecting their performance.
