OLYMPIC TRIALS AND TRIBULATIONS
Is this the Olympic Trials or the Olympics?!? I asked myself this very question a few times this week. Unlike four years ago, when thankfully (because I had pneumonia) I did not have to compete because of a pre-qualified status, I had to race for a spot this time around. I’ve had three other experiences racing Olympic trials, but none have been quite like this. In ways it felt like the Olympics themselves. So many nerves, doubts, fears, questions and serious anxiety went through my entire being leading into yesterday’s 3000m race.
It started the day before when I watched the first round of the ladies and men’s 500m races. I sat in the stands with my husband, Peter, grabbing at his arm and hiding my face before many of the races. The tension in the air at the Olympic Oval in Calgary was palpable. There was a huge crowd and the 400m track looked like a video game from up above on our plastic seats. The skaters looked like robots in their shiny, bright skinsuits. Only this was not a game, it was the moment many of them had dreamed of, worked towards and would possibly never experience again. This was the moment they would either make or miss the chance of a lifetime: to compete in a home Olympics.
I wanted to see some races to feel the energy in the oval. I was not prepared for the intensity of the scene. In hindsight, I am so glad that I went. It showed me clearly just how important (in the sporting sense) this competition is for all of these skaters. How important this competition was and is for me.
I watched two of my young teammates, Anastasia Bucsis Tamara Oudenarden, face off for an Olympic spot. They are like twins in their skinsuits, both tall and lean and even a bit awkward. I remembered seeing these girls, just as tall and much lankier five years prior when they trained in an oval development group. There was a whole pack of them- these gangly girls excited to be at the oval, dreaming of being fast. And there they were, trying out for the Olympics!
One made the team and the other did not. It was the same with the men. Many happy faces and even more heads bowed in disappointment.
It struck a chord deep inside of me. On the following day, I would feel one emotion or the other. I felt inspired to create my future. I felt alive in seeing my teammates go out and leave their hearts and souls on the ice. I felt nervous and ready to race.
And now, the 3000m has come and gone, and I did what I wanted to do. My goal was the win the distance and give myself a shot at not only another Olympic race, but also to prepare for my favorite distance, the 5000m. I went into the race refusing to acknowledge that I had already qualified for the latter distance. I wanted more than this. Any kind of settling with what I already had could and would breed complacency. However small, this complacency could and would in turn allow for the door to open to be beaten.
The only mistake I made was focusing too much on what I wanted. I can’t say it was my best race, but what it gave me was what I have felt already a few times this year. When I focus too much on ‘wanting’ something, I tend to lose my grip on the moment I am in. I honestly can’t remember much of the 7 1/2 laps. I was too busy trying to make sure that I did what I needed to do.
If I want to reach my potential and my own private expectations in the soon-to-begin Olympics, I need to let go of the wanting. Over the next 45 days, I need to work on letting myself ‘be’ and ‘do’ and continue the process of feeing myself up to perform.
If I don’t, I will be good; perhaps even good enough. But I most certainly will not be satisfied.
In a few days time, I will race the 1500m and then the 5000m. I don’t have to do either, but want to do both. There is only so much work that can be done in training. It’s time for me to continue the technical, tactical and emotional gains I’ve made this year, and put them where they belong: in the races.
I can’t wait to see what happens when I set out for 12 1/2 laps of torture. I am prepared for the pain that will bring me to those last five laps, and look forward to the depths that I will have to dig into to get through to the finish line. It reminds me of a recent interview I read with Gaetan Boucher, where he spoke about his Olympic gold medal experience:
“I felt my legs getting stiff and I could see it was going to be tough. I can’t describe the pain. There’s nothing in the world like it. You feel as though you have no legs at all. I talk to them, tell them to keep working. Today they obeyed. But through the last 100m, it’s only guts. You have nothing else. You know about the pain ahead of time so you just prepare yourself.”
That is exactly how hard it is and how hard it will always be. The only way through this is to be in the moment and embrace what is happening. This is my goal in the coming races. What a process to go through! I dream of combining this ability with the buzzing energy of my younger teammates. What a mixture of fresh and wise to shoot for.
What a gift to have a chance to try to make this happen. Oops, I mean let this happen.
