When I was about 13, I came last in cross country.
I had always hated running. I felt like I was slow, which felt embarrassing, and the act of running made me feel really physically uncomfortable, like I couldn’t catch my breath. So, when cross country came time came around, me and a guy I knew just decided we would walk most of it. That felt OK. I could say I didn’t care, and I wasn’t on my own with it.
Problem was, when the finish line came into view, he started sprinting. I panicked and sprinted after him, but I could not catch him, no matter how hard I tried.
This was one major example which contributed to the formation of a view of myself as “not sporty.” Other things include not ever really playing football or any other games that were seen as important by other boys, so when I did have to play, I didn’t know what I was doing and would, of course, not be very good.
For a good few years I carried around this idea that I wasn’t sporty. That I just couldn’t do things in the same way that other boys could. That I lacked something.
Now, it will probably be of little surprise to you that where I am going with this is: this was an unfair view of myself, and we all carry around those unfair views. However, let me just give you another piece of information that demonstrates how impactful our views of ourselves can be:
I was county champion for trampolining two years in a row. At the exact same time of life that I was coming last in cross country.
But that wasn’t enough to counteract the view of myself as “not sporty.”
How the heck does that work?
When you have an internal view of yourself like this - be it “not sporty,” “not clever,” “not creative,” “not interesting” – it functions as a fear.
“I am afraid that I am not sporty. Because that means I don’t fit in. It means I will be humiliated, embarrassed if other people see it.”
So, like any other fear, my brain is actively on the lookout for danger. If I try to play football and misplace a pass, my brain will light up and say “You see! I told you! I knew it!.” If I win a trampolining competition, my brain will be able to dismiss it. “Well, trampolining doesn’t count. Still rubbish at football.” If I get through a game of football with no major mistakes, my brain will pretty much ignore that. “Phew, no major errors.” But it doesn’t really sink in. Errors, “failures” and criticism will get in really easily. Compliments and successes will pretty much bounce off.
This process warps how we see ourselves. It means that any fears we might have about ourselves never really get the chance to be counteracted, unless something happens to start changing it.
Something to think about
What stories do you tell yourself about yourself? What assumptions do you hold about what qualities or skills you do or do not have? Where do they come from? Are they fair?
Something to do
Now, I would actually describe myself as a sporty person. Someone who enjoys sport and as some decent attributes. There were two things that started to change this belief for me.
The first was just learning this: that the stories we tell ourselves are not necessarily true.
The second was having some opportunities to actually play around, to test out whether or not this is actually true. While I was at University, my housemates wanted to play football and they needed an extra player. I felt comfortable with them, that they wouldn’t have an issue if I wasn’t very good, and there was no pressure. In that environment, I found I could actually practice and learn. No wonder I wasn’t very good as a child. It might not be that I wasn’t sporty, it might be that I never got the chance to practice.
If you want to change a story about yourself, or get to a place where it doesn’t stop you experiencing life, then sometimes the first step is finding a place where you can test out whether nor not this story is something you really need to hold on to any more.
Thanks for reading! Until next week,
Ted
P.S. Just before my eldest was born, I actually did a marathon. I had started running when I was living on my own and wanted to try something new. Again, it was a safe playground: nobody was watching or judging, so I could try it and not feel so afraid. The marathon was something I just wanted to do for that 13-year-old lad who was sure he wasn't sporty. He appreciated it.
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