Sometimes Being Bad at Things Is a Good Thing

A few months ago, I made the decision to stop all structured training in an effort to regain my health. I've been struggling with Relative Energy Deficiency in Sport (RED-S) for over a year now, and after a lot of trial and error, it became clear that I needed more rest - mentally through less structured training, and physically through less training in general.

Throughout this unstructured period, I have placed emphasis on moving my body in ways that bring me joy. Accordingly, I have freed myself up to try new things purely for enjoyment. This is in major contrast to the last four years of my career, during which enjoyment was tossed aside in favor of an "all-in" mindset and an all-consuming pursuit of success - and during which I operated under the idea that anything non-triathlon-specific would detract from my triathlon endeavors. But recently, through my efforts to combat burnout, I have realized that this is not the case at all. In fact, these non-triathlon-specific activities - especially those done solely for the sake of enjoyment - are often the most life-giving, in that they contribute to mental/emotional health and a more sustainable career. For me, these activities have involved getting out onto the trails and into the mountains - the two things I love most in nature.

A few weeks ago, I decided to try mountain biking for the first time ever. I'm honestly not sure what possessed me, considering my general aversion to risk and my lack of experience with all things cycling. I didn't even ride a road bike till I was 22, and though I've come a long way, bike handling is far from my strength. I truly never thought I'd touch a mountain bike in my life. But since I love the trails and already have an experienced mountain bike buddy in the form of my boyfriend Garen, I was willing to give it a try.

One of my first MTB attempts!

Additionally, I took up skate skiing for the first time in almost 20 years. I'm not a complete beginner since I did lots of cross-country skiing as a kid in Bend, but I have little-to-no muscle memory remaining from childhood, so it has been a challenge to relearn the technical aspects of the sport. I can "fake" my way through it to a certain extent because of my aerobic engine, but I'm severely limited by technique right now - as well as my general level of comfort on snow, which is minimal due to my lack of experience with snow sports.

My first time skate skiing in almost 20 years!

I'm pretty terrible at mountain biking. I'm not as terrible at skate skiing, but I'm still not good at it. And through this, I have come to the realization that I really, really don't like being bad at things. Not only do these activities put me outside my comfort zone skills-wise, but they are also uncomfortable because I'm a beginner. And I'm not used to not being good at things.

Looking back at my life, I've had a pretty good run of things coming easily to me. I immediately excelled at pretty much every sport I tried as a kid (granted, most of these were endurance-based). I won state championships in both swimming and track when I was in elementary and middle school. I was a straight-A student without a weak subject, excelling as much in art as I did in math. I finished a master's degree in Applied Mathematics at age 22. I decided to try triathlon while working toward my PhD (admittedly, partly because I thought I could be good at it); I won my first race and qualified for my elite license in my second, after just several months in the sport.

On my way to a 3000m state title as a 12-year-old

This is not to say that everything has come easily. I have always worked extremely hard and pressed on through adversity such as injuries and mental health struggles - in truth, I've pushed myself past my breaking point more than a few times - but there hasn't been a lot of struggle to initially reach a high level in academics or athletics. That part has always come rather easily - and has lead to a certain level of expectation from myself and, likely, others.

Now, couple this with my overachieving, perfectionistic nature, and that hasn't left a lot of room for me to try new things in the first place, or to continue with activities that I'm not immediately good at.

But why do I have to be good at everything? Why must I constantly achieve, achieve, achieve? Can't I just slow down and do something for fun, even if I'm terrible at it?

In the past, frankly, I haven't really seen the use in this. I've subscribed to "hustle culture," thinking I always need to do more, achieve more, be more. And unfortunately, the environments I've been in have only reinforced this.

In recent years, I've spent too much time in academic and athletic cultures where productivity and results are placed above all else - and I've paid the price. Specifically, in the last few years - as mentioned above - there was no room for anything outside of triathlon. Wins and podiums were the focus. Nothing I did was ever good enough, and there was always more to achieve. I spent a massive amount of energy trying to maintain this persona of being the most "committed" athlete, as I felt it was the only way to survive. I was chronically stressed, I didn't get the mental or physical rest I needed, and my body and mind ultimately sounded the alarm bell in a major way.

On the podium, but chronically stressed and unhealthy

RED-S has forced me to alter my approach. I've changed a lot of things in the past year, but my approach to training and elite sport in general has been the most notable change. Now, I'm moving my body for myself, not for others or for some image of myself that I've curated. I don't always need to be more or do more.

On that note, it has been interesting to witness my internal dialogue while mountain biking. My tendency is to beat myself up - the phrases "I suck" and "why am I so terrible at this" frequently run through my head. Some of this stems from my experiences in fear-based environments where people were picked apart and shamed - and where morality was seemingly attached to one's abilities. However, secondarily, some of this stems from lifelong perfectionism and the expectations I often place on myself to immediately be good at things, to be the best, to be fast.

This begs the question - why is my goal automatically to be good at everything? Why do I struggle to measure the success of an activity through its ability to bring me joy, instead of my ability to be good at it? Clearly, much of my self-worth has historically been defined through achievements - by being good at things. But triathlon has been stripped away from me recently, and there has never been a better time to define who I am outside of elite sport, away from my accolades; to redefine the word "success"; and to go a little easier on myself.

In particular, choosing activities that I'm bad at has been a good thing. It has forced me to ensure I'm partaking in these activities purely because they bring me joy, and because I'm motivated to learn and improve - not at all because I'm good at them.

Terrible at mountain biking, but having fun!

When I mountain bike, there aren't a lot of features that I can confidently navigate right now. I ride with flat pedals so I can bail out more easily without crashing. Most trails are above my skill level, and I have to get off my bike and walk over stuff - then restart. The other day, my 90 minute mountain bike session consisted of only 60 minutes of actual riding plus 30 minutes of stoppage - or "hike-a-bike" - time. I lost track of how many times I dismounted my bike to walk over intimidating roots and rocks, and I got more than a little frustrated.

But then I remembered that I need to give myself some grace. First of all, as I said above, I didn't even ride a road bike till I was 22. I've rarely ridden off-road before, and this was only my 3rd time in a mountain bike specific trail complex. All things considered, I'm doing pretty well.

And finally, I asked myself the questions:

Did I face my fears? Did I make some progress, even if it was just a little bit? Did I have fun? Yes to any of those? 

Well then, I succeeded. That's good enough. I am enough.

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