Lately I've been fortunate enough to act as a consultant of sorts to a few of the bigger name professional triathletes here in Boulder and abroad, including one hombre de las cavernas I pick to prevail in that
Big Dance in Kona this October. You see a lot of this sort of behavior among pros, particularly with the faster folks: they seek counsel from multiple sources, only to filter out the crap (i.e., most of what I have to say) and stick with the good stuff (i.e., most of what Dave Scott has to say). They read what they can get their hands on; they talk with other pros; they talk with those who've walked the walk before them; they talk with other coaches; and they learn by way of themselves...the hard way. In a nutshell, they seek (to learn) and destroy (their competition). I do the same as a coach, although I don't really compete against other triathlon coaches.
While this conduct is precisely what I recommend to others (that is, learning from as many sources as you can, then filtering through it all and finding what works best for YOU), it's only a small part of what makes these fast mofos fast. Genes help, as does opportunity, but the truth is that those at the top have simply formed the habit of doing the shit that the losers don't like doing. Indeed, this is the most prevalent commonality I see among the sport's best, many of whom call Boulder home.
Excellence, of course, is predicated on acceptance of the most difficult challenges. If an athlete claims she wants to make her way to the top of the sport (or her age-group), she cannot afford to shy away from the toughest of tasks, be they physical or psychological. If she expects to perform on race day, then she will first need to perform daily, if not hourly. Hourly tasks help to fulfill daily tasks, daily tasks help to fulfill weekly ones, weekly ones help to fulfill monthly ones, monthly ones help to fulfill yearly ones, and yearly ones help carry out ultimate ones. Race day performances don't
just happen. They happen every single day and for many, many, many days (read: months, years) in advance. An athlete should understand all this, if he or she desires to reach the top.
Desire, however, isn't always the issue. Plenty want what few have (or have done). But few will do what it takes to have earned it. (Thus, they don't have what it takes to have what they want!) In all sincerity, desire, or a dearth of it, isn't usually the reason an athlete fails to achieve what they've set out to do. It is more common that he or she…
- Lacks proper direction
- Sees no use in training well
- Has little or no incentive to train well
- Finds training more aversive than gratifying
- Gets easily distracted from his or her goals
- Is inattentive to the purpose in/of training
Years ago I would question an athlete's motivation if he or she appeared to lack desire. But the truth was it was usually one of these factors.
While I tend to think that the athlete is in control of his or her sporting destiny, some of these considerations aren't necessarily under the athlete's control. If, for example, an athlete lacks proper direction, it could easily be the coach who's providing poor direction. In triathlon, this is not all that uncommon, especially with the surplus of inexperienced coaches here in the US, those who pay good money to become certified by a governing body that has no real interest in developing athletes so much as developing the sport (ergo, their profit margins).
Now, if an athlete sees no use in training well, or he or she possesses no incentive to train well, well, this too is something the coach must help to instill. If the desired outcome of the entire process isn't worth shooting for, it's likely the process won't leave the athlete fulfilled, and the athlete will
train in vain and soon leave the sport. Athletes, by their very nature, are goal-oriented people, and without targets, many of us start to lose interest (particularly after we lose races).
I often espouse, in an overly cliché-ish manner I'll confess, that the destination
is the journey. But without a destination, there is no journey (especially if the journey is the destination!). Goals matter. And the athlete needs to see the point in daily ones, in order to fulfill longer term ones. A good coach can help with this, even when the athlete's motivation wanes. A coaching buddy of mine once wrote that he's not a "Rah, Rah!" sort of leader, and that if the athlete can't find the motivation to perform as they wish, perhaps he or she should find something else other than sport.
I don't quite concur.
Athletes are human (some, anyway) and humans are emotional, hormonal creatures. As such, we're prone to fall prey to emotions. We come complete with highs and lows and a plethora of points between. We are each an emotional roller-coaster of sorts, and it's important to accept and embrace the lows, but yet all the meanwhile continue to plow forward through them as you make your way back to the peaks. We train for the peaks, but it's the valleys that help lead us there.
A sport psychologist buddy of mine echoes these sentiments and claims that without the struggle, there can be no real gains. This is a corollary of my belief that "it's not really positivity if it occurs in positive environs."
"Strength does not come from winning," he says. "It's the struggles that develop your strengths. And when you go through hardships without surrendering,
that is strength."
And that's exactly what it takes to fulfill your potential (
meaningless as though potential is): a never say die attitude. That, and an unquenchable thirst for better understanding.
Of the sport.
Of your competition.
Of the science.
Of "what it takes."
Of yourself.
Seek and you shall destroy, but only if you grasp it first.
Over the years I've steadily developed a vast array of specialized skills, skills I continue to expand upon, even as I close in on those pesky middle ages. I play a mean kazoo. I fart as loud as anyone I've ever met. I sleep-in longer than anyone I know (or have slept with). I can walk long distances in a single bound. I can out-think myself. I can find the laughter in manslaughter. I'm even quite proficient at sticking Pop-Tarts in the toaster, but this, I'll admit, depends entirely on the make and model of toaster.
