I had done everything I could. I shot out of the swim as fast as the momentary dizziness would allow, grabbed my bike not-too-unelegantly, and breathlessly tried to churn out a decent bike leg. A host of speedy competitors whizzed superiorly past in clattering pelotons. I tried not to get demoralised. I could still get this back on the run! I coaxed myself to maintain the rhythm. On the run, I felt strong, my jellyish legs turning over quickly and automatically like obliging windmills. I arrived at the finish, jubilant: surely I had done myself proud.
The results appeared online instantly. I eagerly clicked on my age category, swiftly scanned the 23 names for my own, and…. 23rd. Last.
LAST.
Not a single female aged 25–29 behind me. Undoubtedly the best sprint triathlon I had ever done, with downright astonishing improvement over the previous year’s attempt, and yet I had still ended up at the back of the pack. And? I steadied myself for the waves of overwhelming disappointment and flooding tears of shame that were surely about to come. But no — nothing. I had to laugh. How funny that one of my biggest fears when I first started running — the appalling shame of coming last in a race — had actually come to fruition, and there was nothing bad about it. Quite the opposite: I now had an extra burst of ammunition to train harder and do better next time.
When I first started running, I was extremely reluctant to enter any kind of race. ‘Fun runs’ like Parkrun were ok because they’re clearly not branded as proper races, plus they often kindly have a tail walker so you have the comfort that you’ll never be left out there on the course by yourself. But an actual race? Sure, it would be great to have a goal to work towards, and I could just measure my own progress rather than comparing myself to everyone else, but there was still something stopping me. What if I came last?
Why coming last might be embarrassing
Embarrassment comes about when we feel we have broken some kind of social convention:
“The experience of embarrassment alerts you to your failure to behave according to certain social standards, which threaten the beliefs you hold concerning how others evaluate you as well as the ways in which you evaluate yourself.” — Mary Lamia, Psychologist
This can actually be a useful feeling in the long term, as research suggests that embarrassed people are more easily forgiven and better liked by others. But it can also be paralysing, and fear of embarrassment can often be lurking beneath some of the instinctive decisions that hold us back.
It’s quite hard initially to see how coming last in a race would break some sort of social convention. It doesn’t seem ‘wrong’ in any moral sense; in fact, by the very nature of being a race, someone must come last — and maybe you’re even doing ‘good’ by sparing everyone else from that fate! I think it makes more sense when we think about how coming last would affect the way we evaluate ourselves, and therefore how we want other people to think of us.
Having always been someone who tried hard and enjoyed school, I tended to see myself as an ‘overachiever’. My high school, an all-girls selective school, for all its strengths, unfortunately instilled the notion that a B was never good enough; it had to be an A*. It was also very hard, in an awkward self-conscious female environment, to talk about your achievements without ‘boasting’, and consequently everything was always bashfully downplayed: “oh, I did rubbishly in the test. Yeah, I only got 85%…” With such an environment ingrained in my mind, it’s hardly surprising I felt reluctance to engage in any activity where I would be publicly revealed as having done anything less than getting the top grade, let alone coming last.
The benefits of coming last
But as it turned out, I somewhat naughtily ‘enjoyed’ being objectively bad at something. It was relieving, in a way, to add a rebelliously different ‘sticker’ to the collection of neat, society-friendly labels I’d learnt to associate with myself. It gave me a stronger acquaintance with humility, and helped me ensure I was enjoying the ‘process’, rather than the output.
But most importantly, embracing my embarrassing running times challenged me to start letting go of the perfectionism that was likely holding me back in other areas of life. When I lived in Spain, if I had only ever been willing to speak Spanish if I could speak it perfectly, I would never even have opened my mouth — paralysed, for fear that an imperfect phrase would deviously escape. But I accepted that I would be that ‘inglesa’ making frequent (but hopefully cute?) mistakes, and I’ve been rewarded millions of time over by the amazing relationship I now have with my non-English-speaking in-laws.
Embracing being ‘bad’
So how did I learn to embrace my ‘bad’ness at sport?
- Exposure
First, exposure: I challenged myself to actually come last — not deliberately last, because that’s just a cop-out, but having made my best effort. It happened, and it made me realise that there was absolutely nothing wrong with coming last — it was admirable, in fact, that I had even dared to try.
2. Process-based metrics
Second, I re-calibrated the metrics of success: from outcome-based measures I couldn’t control (i.e. my ranking compared to other people), to process-based ones I could (e.g. did I sustain a sufficiently high heart rate effort? Did I keep my pace consistent? Did I give it everything I had in the last km?)
3. Growth mindset
And finally, I re-framed my response to perceived failure. In an earlier post, I talked about having a ‘growth’ mindset as opposed to a ‘fixed’ one. When ‘failure’ occurs, a fixed mindset would tend to ‘give up’, while a growth mindset would focus on ‘coming back stronger’.
Being ‘bad’ can lead to being ‘good’
What’s funny is that there’s something so liberating about imperfection and letting go of ‘doing well’, that it turns out to be one of the most effective strategies to actually improve. Once I let go of my fear of being ‘bad’ and coming last, I improved my 5k times dramatically, and can now run at what would probably be seen as a ‘good’ pace — though that’s not at all the point. I still immensely value being the slowest person at my club track sessions, as it spurs me on to push my limits and improve each time. And I’m always looking for ways I can make myself vulnerable and compete against people who are definitely way out of my league — to the point where I’m now trying to qualify for the GB age group triathlon team (opening story of this post — more on this later…)
Thanks for getting this far in my triathlon story! So far we’ve covered why I got into triathlon, and two major ‘unfreedoms’ I’ve had to overcome: fear, and embarrassment. Next week we’ll look at another ‘unfreedom’ I’ve been struggling with recently: self-doubt and negativity. I’ll share some tips I’ve found helpful, and I’d love to hear your thoughts on this too!
