The Anxious Person’s Guide to Overcoming Fear (and Enjoying Triathlon)
Ever been afraid of trying something new? Scared of pushing yourself too far? Frustrated that you can’t fully enjoy something because you’re limited by fear? Triathlon presented not one but three overwhelming new environments, each with their own unique fears to overcome… Part 3 in a series about my journey in triathlon. Read parts 1 and 2 here.
I can’t breathe. My heart is pulsing in my neck; my hands throbbing from desperately squeezing the brakes. Wind whips past my face like an abrasive slap. I don’t know what’s at the bottom of this hill. I can’t control my speed; I can’t tighten the brakes any more. This is the first, and last, time I’ll be riding a road bike.
* 5 years later*
I breathe deeply, filling my head with the warm, musty scent of the surrounding trees. My hands relax on the handlebars as I lean forwards and tuck my neck down — no need for braking this time. The wind whispers past, gently nudging my face. I’m comfortable, in control. This is my favourite hill in the park, and today I might even get a Strava PB.
It wasn’t long before my body raised a pretty serious objection to this new running craze. Serious, as in ‘life or death’ serious — or so I believed at the time. I was nervous about pushing myself too far, and even after the gentlest, shortest of jogs, I began to worry that my heart rate was too fast. Worse, I often had full-blown palpitations, which made me feel totally out of control and fear — unreasonably, of course — that I was about to have a heart attack. People sometimes die from running. What if I were one of them?
Top tip #1: get some objectivity
I think my exercise-induced anxiety probably started back in my teenage years, when I trained for long walks in the park in preparation for a school trek to Costa Rica. Lacking the knowledge about nutrition I have now, I didn’t realise that several hours of exercise could effectively drain the body of carbohydrate fuel, leaving me in a ‘hypoglycemic’ (lack of sugar) state. Heart racing, hands trembling, legs unable to go any further, it was a terrifying position to be in. I never made the same mistake again (didn’t need telling twice to carry around an emergency chocolate bar during a long hike), but I still sometimes experienced palpitations during exercise — perhaps just out of fear that it would happen again.
But by this time, I’d had enough. I couldn’t accept that I was incapable of even five minutes of running without having an anxiety-induced attack of palpitations. It was time to seek some objective guidance. I booked myself in for a sports health checkup, where scientists could analyse my heart rate and hopefully put to bed my irrational fears. I came away with an excessive array of parameters - really intended for elite athletes rather than imposters like me - but most importantly, an ECG test showing nothing, absolutely nothing, abnormal. That was the reassurance I needed.
Top tip #2: fake it till you make it
I was still acutely aware of the rise in pulse whilst exercising, but newly armed with scientific proof that I was a hypochondriac, I gradually managed to start pushing myself further and further. Until I truly felt comfortable operating near or at my limit - ‘comfortable’ as in, ‘I’m going to throw up’ rather than ‘I’m going to die’, at least - I developed two key allies. The first was music. I found that if I sneakily drowned out the sound of my maniac heart rate and gasping breaths, I could almost pretend I was just going for a chilled-out jog.
The second was actual allies - people. I found that when I joined a running group and had someone else dictate the interval paces, it was a little hard to argue that I should be given special compensation and easier paces. Soon I actually was able to reach my maximum heart rate without fear of death. I think the ‘fake it till you make it’ principle was definitely true for me here.
Tip tip #3: learn to spot fear posing as dislike
With running conquered, it wasn’t long before I felt the pull of triathlon. But surprise surprise, a whole new set of fears surfaced with each sport I tried. At first I tried to convince myself that these sports weren’t for me, that I just fundamentally didn’t enjoy them. But when I tried to pinpoint specifically what I didn’t like, I came up with nothing. I was just afraid.
Top tip #4: break it down into mini-fears
With both cycling and swimming, I was initially paralysed by an overwhelming fear of the unknown world outside my comfort zone. But I found that breaking down the problem into solvable ‘mini-fears’, and eliminating them one by one, helped me get going. If you have to step outside your comfort zone, a small, almost accidental shuffle over the metaphorical edge is so much more achievable than a giant leap into the abyss.
With cycling, my main fear was going downhill, particularly because I was borrowing a road bike that was slightly too big for me, and my hands ended up in excruciating pain trying to reach and squeeze the brakes. That was easily solved by getting a proper-fitting bike, with disc brakes — known to exert higher stopping force over a shorter distance than standard rim brakes — thrown in for good measure. Having eliminated the ‘blame the equipment, not the rider’ argument, I turned to the rider. Building up my confidence slowly with smaller hills helped me adjust to the feeling of going fast, and relax rather than tense up. Soon I could tackle the same hill that so terrified me the first time around, and even enjoy it.
With swimming, I forced myself to articulate and rebuff the specific objections I had. Luckily, living with a lawyer had turned me into a reasonably good arguer. I don’t know what’s at the bottom of the lake. Let’s ask the park manager — weeds, it turns out (big surprise). It’s so deep — what if I drown? Quite hard to do that unnoticed by Carlos, all the other swimmers, and an excessive number of safety kayaks whose sole job is to watch out for every single swimmer. I still don’t like not being able to see the bottom. Well, close your eyes underwater then. And so I started off (somewhat ridiculously) closing my eyes each time I put my head in the water, until I had done one small lap of the lake. And then I could tell myself, you’ve done it once now, why wouldn’t you be able to do it again?
Top tip #5: sharpen your mental toolkit
I won’t pretend that the fears have completely disappeared. Despite all the open water swimming I’ve done over the last few years, I still get anxious when the water is deeper / murkier / clearer / colder than I expect (i.e., most of the time). Last week in Spain it took me a while to get comfortable swimming in the sea, despite the bath-warm clear turquoise water — objectively paradisiacal. As hard as it was to imagine dark suspicious shark-shapes in the transparent depths below me, my brain still managed to do it. Now I have experience on my side though, and I can recall countless lake / sea / pool sessions that help prove to my worrying mind that I am actually a competent swimmer. I also use motivational self-talk and positive imagery to strengthen my defence against fears. Fears will probably always try to creep back in, but I’ve now got more tools to bash them over the head with.
So armed with these five tips, I overcame the fears that were holding me back from running, swimming and cycling for the first time. However, once I’d become confident enough to actually swim, bike and run without fear of death, I started to think about entering an actual triathlon race. And I therefore started to worry — what if I came last?
Tune back in next week for a spotlight on embarrassment, and let me try and convince all you perfectionists out there that coming last in a race can sometimes actually be good for you…
Have you had similar experiences trying running / swimming / cycling for the first time? Has this article been interesting / helpful / surprising? Comment below!
