Motivation is a curious beast. Everyone, from Olympian to back-of-the
-pack plodder will have their own reasons for putting themselves through the rigours
of training an. I’m sure if you asked the participants on any start line in any
sport what their motivation was, you’d likely get as many answers as there are discarded
gel packs at the end of the race.
Motivation can also change over time. When coming into
running, a lot of people (myself included) would cite weight loss as their
primary aim. Over time, this can give way to improving PBs and general
well-being not to mention stress relief and socialising with fellow runners and
club mates.
However, is our motivation always a positive thing? When
does drive become single-minded stubbornness. I’m going to let you into a
secret, dear reader. One of the biggest reasons I had for putting down my blade
and leaving the Rowing Club was to do with motivation. By this I don’t mean
that I’d lost the will to compete or getter better, it was just that I realised
what my motivation had been.
Anger.
I realised I was angry at everything. I was angry with the coach, I was angry with
the club, fellow rowers, the system and above all angry with myself. I took a
step back and saw that this wasn’t healthy for anyone involved. Somewhere along
the way, I’d stopped rowing because it was an enjoyable activity that was improving
me as a person and ended up rowing because I felt I had a point to prove. To
whom I’m not sure, even now.
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| You wouldn't like me when I'm angry... |
So I took a long hard look at myself and asked the question “Do
I need this to make me happy?” The answer was a resounding, releasing “No”. Of course, it was not an easy decision to
walk away. As an obsessive character, rowing was pretty much everything to me.
But it was only one part of me and it doesn't have to define me.
Some can use anger-as-motivation to great effect and boxers
seem to do it all the time quite successfully. However, in the situation I was
in, my biggest motivation was also my biggest handicap. I wasn't helping those
around me and I certainly wasn’t helping myself. I needed to do something that
brought me joy.
So I put on a pair of running shoes.
Now don’t think I’m floating a couple of inches off the
ground happy-clappy guru-style. I still get angry. But I’ve learnt to look at the
causes earlier on and deal with them. My best running performances have always
come when I’ve been my happiest and most relaxed.
My gears really get ground when someone convinces themselves
they have to be my rival for running times. I want to shout “GET OVER YOURSELF”.
I’m not interested in you as a rival, I’m interested in you as a friend. Mutual
support is so much better than competition.
Running is my happy place, even when it’s raining.
Not so
much when I’m injured though, that properly blows.
