The Toughest Coach
As I hustle up the river bank, I find that she is already in the start area of the 1992 Olympic whitewater canoeing venue. Her one-hour training session begins in just a few minutes. She sits anxiously in her racing kayak, her hands gripping the paddle tightly. Her shoulders are raised and her eyes are dialed in downstream to beyond the start line. She is ready to go now.
“Bona tarda,” I say, an afternoon greeting in Catalan directed to the athlete I will coach for the next 60 minutes. She looks up, says hello, and asks about our planned training session.
Many of the world’s top canoeing athletes come to La Seu d’Urgell for one or two week training camps during this time of year. They are preparing for this September’s Canoe Slalom World Championships. Their training sessions are physically and mentally demanding. Fatigue sets in quickly and quietly, which challenges them to perform maneuvers that appear to be basic and routine.
Feeling her tension, I ask her to turn her kayak around and paddle upstream to calmer waters. I then sit on the shore near her and with her permission, I ask:
How do you feel when you are paddling and you make a mistake?
She takes a deep breath and exhales. “Angry!” she says. “Like the anger wants to stay with me.”
This is not an uncommon answer, particularly when we want to perform well in an activity for which we are passionate.
When plans do not work out the way we hope, we tend to be our worst critic. We hang on to the angst, sharpen its edge, and allow it to cut into us more deeply.
Yet, if a good friend makes the same mistake, our compassion flows more easily, as long as it is in their direction.
This particular athlete is very good at her sport and she deeply cares about her goals. She is a strong contender for a position on her country’s team for a spot at next year’s Olympic Games in Japan.
The pursuit of Olympic excellence demands intense focus — and mistake forgiveness.
“Would you like to have some fun in the session today?” I ask the athlete.
“Yes!” she answers, part excited, part nervous about what comes next.
“For the next 60 minutes, every time you feel the slightest bit of anger on the river, hold your paddle above your head, and twirl it in your hands 360 degrees.”
“Twirl my paddle?” she asks, “Like this?” as she perfectly demonstrates the technique.
She smiles. Her shoulders drop. Tension falls away. We begin.
She navigates two short sections of the Olympic whitewater channel, with no mistakes. I ask her how she feels.
“So free,” she says.
On the next section, her kayak drifts from her intended course. Her critical tension-building moment arrives — she fights to correct the kayak’s position.
As she completes this section of the channel, the paddle is raised above her head and she twirls it 360 degrees. Along with her fellow athletes, the sight is so goofy that even she begins to laugh.
This small, innovative solution is all it takes to reduce her stress and angst.
Over the hour, there are no less than a dozen paddle twirls. She is simply having fun.
Most of us will never encounter a tougher coach than the coach we are to ourselves. It is up to us to guide that coach to find its gentler side. Paddle twirls help.
With gratitude,
-Joe
Perform your best at what matters most without compromising your life. Let’s design your simple and clear plan to get you and your team outside of the day-to-day rush of life and bring focus to what truly matters most.
