Beginner's Luck

Franklin D. Roosevelt said that “the only thing we have to fear is fear itself”. He was wrong, from where I sit. I think there is way more to be afraid of than simple fear. There is a buffet spread before me of things to be afraid of—at work, at home, and in just my head.

Prior to completing my first Ironman last summer I wrote, “What if I get to Lake Placid and I was wrong? What if I get there and it is much so much bigger than I am? What if I fail? What if I get out there and halfway through the bike, or maybe heading up the final hill on the second loop, I discover that I simply cannot go any further? What will I do with that? How will I come home? How will I suck it up for another year to get to another first starting line? Worse, what if I decide that because I couldn’t this time that I simply cannot—period. What if I can’t?”

I was very afraid. Now signed up for my second I remain afraid, only this year my fears have a different flavor to them. What if it was a fluke? What if it was Beginner’s Luck? What if I can’t do it again?

I am not very good with the “can’t” thing. Try as I may, when something doesn’t work out, it isn’t everyone else I go after. I look squarely in the mirror and ask myself what I could have done differently, what I did or didn’t do that brought this “can’t” to pass. This is why I sometimes succumb to the fear and wallow in it for a while. I know what awaits me on my return home from any DNF. It is scarier than almost anything else I know. It is self-disappointment.

Over the years I have tried to deal with “can’t” head on. I have determined that there are two kinds of can’ts : those that are external and those that are internal. The external ones are the ones I have often been in hot water over. These are the ones I can take delight in challenging because I don't usually like to be told what I can and cannot do. Then there are the self-imposed can’ts. These are by far the more common. As a therapist, I have had to learn (because I ask it of my clients) to look at a thing and ask whether it truly is a “can’t” or whether it is instead a “won’t” or a “don’t know how." The true “can’ts” are often situations that are out of my control. The task here is to let them go. There is relief, though, when I discover a thing is a “won’t” or a “don’t know how." With this realization comes the understanding that there are things to be learned and choices to be made.

I had always thought that truly confident people were not fearful and did not have to do the “can’t, won’t or don’t know how” diagnosis. Somehow I figured they just knew that they would and could do a thing and, armed with this knowledge, could proceed in the face of anything. My thinking is slowly changing.

As I watch myself gain confidence in areas where it has slipped over time or where it never existed in the first place, I am coming to see fear and confidence in a new light. On this journey, I have had occasion to talk to people whom I have always seen as above fear, as having all the necessary tools in their toolboxes to circumnavigate fear. They tell me differently. I have discovered that the brilliant, the confident, the stoic indeed feel fear. The difference for many of these folk is that they accept it as a part of the journey, goal or process. The fear for some may even be a welcome tool seen to enhance motivation and ensure that the important things are attended to. They don’t shy away from it. They “feel the fear and do it anyway,” as per the title of Susan Jeffers’ book.

I delved into my bookshelves in search of fear. I tried to find exceptional quotes from thinkers like Emerson, Thoreau and Sheehan. They were not a great help. Thinkers love fear and suffering. They embrace it, wallow in it, exalt it.

Then I moved on to the sports psychology types—I picked up my copy of Nideffer’s “The Inner Athlete," and Lynch and Scott’s “Running Within." Surely they would have constructive insights into the better handling of fear. They wanted me to do homework. I even tried my literary quotes, therapy texts and Everest books.

My climbing books come closest to the mark, encouraging me to move one step at a time in spite of my fears. They have instructed me to trust my equipment and have faith that getting to the top of big mountains one step at a time is possible, even if you are shaking with fear.

For me though, the greatest message of all has come from the world of children’s television and in the form of Miss Frizzell. She is the wonderful teacher on "The Magic Schoolbus" who leads her charges on adventures with a "get in there and explore the world hands-on" message. With her “take chances, make mistakes and get messy” she has implored me to practice what she preaches, to dig into my life as though it were a science experiment and not be afraid to get messy. It has been a wonderful message to impart to my children, too.

I bet all the great thinkers were thinking the same thing but just couldn’t put it together so succinctly or eloquently.

Still Tri’n