The Power of Fear

Fears is a great motivator and its close friend adrenaline is a hell of a pace setter. A few days ago I rode 34 miles and ended up riding at a higher sustained pace than I’ve ever ridden at before. I didn’t go out like superman this time. I went out at what felt like a reasonable pace intent on just having a nice ride. Fear drove the pace and adrenaline allowed me to keep it up.

Now fear comes in a couple of different flavors. Each flavor is as tasty as the others and as powerful a motivating force.

1. Fear of Failure

We all have people who have encouraged us and helped us work harder and achieve more. Even though they aren’t watching anymore, you still don’t want to let them down. Quitting becomes too easy once you’ve done it once…and it feels pretty awful to bail out on something that you decided you were going to do. That kind of thing is a pretty strong motivator. When I’m struggling I hear lots of different voices. I can hear my Dad yelling from the side of the track, “Heel-toe, Adam…heel-toe.” I can hear my brother and other track teammates yelling “Kick it in, Adam, kick it in!” Then there is the voice of my high school football coach telling me, “King, you’ve got two chances of starting on Friday night—slim and none…and slim just left town!” And there is the voice of Coach Gigi (who coached the practice squad of which I was the star running back, aka fresh meat for the starting defense) yelling, “Suck it up Kinger!” after watching me get creamed for the 110^th time that practice.

Really, those people don’t know you are struggling to finish 30 miles on your converted granny bike. It doesn’t matter because they are just you. Fear of failure is really about letting yourself down. If you are like me, you are your own biggest motivator and the one most likely to be let down. So coach, even if Slim did leave town I’m going to finish what I started.

2. Fear of Embarrassment

This is about personal pride, too, but in a slightly different way. That is because your failure is there for others to see. That kind of fear is really good for short bursts of energy and effort. When the granny with two dogs tied to her waist came jogging along, there was no way I was going to let her run past me while I was running. Hell no! I am half her age and I don’t have dogs tied to me. I cannot let her pass. The same goes for the 70-year old guy riding an adult tricycle complete with filled basket, florescent orange flag flapping on a fiberglass pole, and chunky old-school headphones—no way are you passing me on my bike, old man!

3. Fear of Death

This one is great for both short bursts of energy and sustained efforts. The day the pit bull on my Bluff Road route wasn’t tied up I found energy for a massive sprint effort. Oh sure, he pulled right up along side of me, but I kicked harder and he fell back to my back wheel. He kept pace for a good 400 meters, but I finally dusted him…or his yard ended and he left me alone. I prefer to think I out ran him.

That same route was the source of another kind of death threat—this time from vehicular traffic. I had ridden the route a couple of times before, usually early in the morning on a weekend. This time I went out at 6am on a weekday. This is a two lane road with no shoulder that leads to nowhere. The traffic was nuts. But I wasn’t hugging the white line to stay away from your run-of-the-mill compact cars. In the mornings Bluff Road turns into something that is a cross between a monster truck rally and a death race…and it is run by mutant zombies with no awareness of anything else on the road other than the path forward. The breeze created as a car goes by can give you a nice little push, and it can be refreshing too. The breeze created as a truck’s rearview mirror almost grazes your ear is terrifying…and it gives you a rush…of adrenaline…as the primal flight instinct kicks in. The problem with Bluff Road is that the flight instinct and accompanying adrenaline rush recur about every 20 seconds. It makes for a high-paced ride.

Fear is so useful a training tool that I have decided to include it in all my training from now on. Either I will ride around the mean streets of Shandon early in the morning looking for septuagenarians who look like they could give me a run for my money or I’ll only ride on Bluff Road in the midst of the mutant zombie monster truck death race. If those methods get old, I’ll find a route with lots of loose dogs and I’ll tie pigs’ feet to my ankles. Before I know it I’ll have thighs as big as Beyonce (that sounds like it was intended to be mean, but really she is much taller than I am and spends a lot of time working out, so she has very muscular thighs. Really, that’s what Perez Hilton says.) and be able to keep up Clembob and his ilk of semi-pro cyclists.