Motivation

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.

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.