“[Triathlon] is ninety percent mental and the other half is physical.” -Yogi Berra

I’ll admit, Yogi probably wasn’t talking about triathlon. But the mind games that come with any sport are universal.

As I spend my weekend recovering for my first triathlon of the season I can feel the weight of expectation. It’s just not where I thought it would come from.

For the first time I am entering a race as defending champion (it is a lot of fun to write that sentence). I know Steve King will talk about me and will declare me a pre-race favourite (also fun to hear) as he has before for everyone else competing to hear. But that doesn’t bother me.

I’ve been racing long enough to know now that so much of what it takes to win a race is out of my control. Mistakes by officials counting laps, mechanical issues, and who else is actually racing are among hundreds of factors that I have had go both for and against me at various races.

There is also pressure knowing that I will be going head to head with training mates Rob and Jeff. The trash talk has been plentiful all week. There is even a beer on the line along with highly prestigious bragging rights. But as much as I want to beat them, that isn’t weighing on me either.

Again, I have no control over how hard they have worked over the winter and how much faster they are getting. I could race better than I ever have and get beat by them having an even better day. That’s racing.

I want to win. I know I can win. But can I see myself walking away from the race happy even if I don’t. There is only one way I walk away unhappy:

Not living up to my own expectations for my performance.

It is all the work I have put in that lately that has my expectations so high. I have put in more time and done so more consistently this winter than I ever have. It is the fear that these hours will not have produced what I expected that worries me. I know that one race does not make or break a season but I feel like I need some vindication for the work I’ve done.

I’d like to beat the boys. I’d like to win. But I need something, no matter how small, to take away that says, “keep at it, you’re on the right track”. And it’d be fun if I can get myself DQ’d temporarily again for being too fast on the bike too.

It’s odd that I would feel compelled to write this right now, when training is going so well, but maybe I’ve got the right perspective at the moment.

I’ve had this quote sitting on my desk for the past year or so and have never quite known what to do with it. There was something in it that spoke to me while at the same time left me unsettled:

Coming home from very lonely places, all of us go a little mad: whether from great personal success, or just an all-night drive, we are the sole survivors of a world no one else has ever seen.

- John le Carre

Depressing no? But it always struck me as true when it came to trying to be an elite athlete. Not in the sense that it was lonely but that it was a difficult life to try to relate to others.

I’m reminded of this each time a co-worker or more distant friend asks a question like “are you still doing that triathlon thing?”. It is a well meaning question from their perspective and it’s appreciated but just demonstrates how far apart our worlds are.

In my world, it feels like an absurd question. It consumes so much of everyday of my life that not doing my “triathlon thing” is just not something I consider. And I know in their world, this must be what it seems like I’m doing…

Even my closest friends and co-workers, who get what I’m doing and will put up with me not drinking at their birthday party or let me call it a night early aren’t privy to all of what living the life of an athlete is like.

Which brings me to what really inspired me to write this today. RJ and I (along with Stephanie in spirit as she had Supermom duties) spent yesterday afternoon “coaching” and watching Martina go after her World Cup swim standard. As we knew she would, she smashed the standard by almost 45 seconds.

After the race, we hung out on the pool deck, and enjoyed a celebratory cupcake (that she brought along herself) while recounting the race and chatting about training and future races. Around us volunteers took down tables, lifeguards moved lane ropes. As Cake would say “no trophy, no flowers, no flashbulbs”. No great fanfare. Just a treat for a job well done.

When I came home later last night I saw that she had a multitude of congratulatory messages on Facebook. They were comments of how huge and amazing an accomplishment it was, and even mentions of the Olympics next summer. A group of great friends no doubt, but Martina being a good athlete, replied “just one step at a time”.

That is why I wouldn’t have missed it for the world. There are so few people in an athlete’s life who understand the context of a moment like that, who know the work it took to get there, who know exactly how much it means, who know how much more there is to do.

In some ways we are all the sole survivors of our worlds and trying to be an elite athlete can at times feel like a long lonely all-night drive. However, there are always those people who have seen the road, been in that passenger seat, and even taken the wheel for a bit when you’re too tired to drive. I know how much those people mean to me and it’s always a pleasure to sit shotgun along the way for you M.