Motivation: Dealing with worry (Holy geese!)

My over-active mind sometimes get the better of me.

I was out on a run last night on the trail that circles the Nike campus. The trail is a wonderfully soft surface. A bark covered trail that has some minor rises and falls to give you a nice mix of terrain and surfaces. It’s a great place for an easy jog or even some faster training for cross-country. As it winds in and out around the outside edge of the campus, it at times climbs up on top of a grassy embankment affectionately called “the berm”.

The top of the berm is fairly narrow in places, meaning that it drops off on either side as a grass covered hill going down toward either the road outside the campus or the parking lot inside. It’s at the top of the berm, in one of these narrow spots, that our story takes place.

I was cruising along the trail, minding my own business, when I saw before me four very large Canadian Geese. There were two geese on either side of the trail, basically standing across from one another, eating the grass next to the bark trail.

At this point we need a flashback. . . [Flashback music and waviness please.]

We need to go way back. I’m talking 1972.

It’s Summer ‘72 and I’m a toddler enjoying a day out at the park with my mom. It was one of those beautiful Saturday afternoons near one of the Seattle area’s lakes. The sun was warm. The grass was green. It was idyllic. You get the picture. I was doing. . . . whatever two-year olds do.

And then there before me was a very, very large goose. It was white with a red-head and a whole bunch of that wiggly stuff hanging down from its chin. I don’t recall what exactly I was doing, but whatever it was I’m sure I was being angelic and kind to the creatures around me. The goose had malice in it’s red eyes.

Then, without warning, that big ole’ goose ran over and bit me right on my butt.

I’d say that it left teeth marks, but I’m pretty sure that geese don’t have teeth.

I’m not afraid to say that I probably cried like a baby. I was, after all, a baby.

Back we come to the present-past of last night. I’m running along the trail and I spot these four geese standing on either side of the trail. My life shifts into slow motion. I start thinking scenarios. There are geese on either side of the trail. If one of them were to decide to take a shot at me, I could always veer toward the other side. But then the trail is only about three feet wide. It occurs to me that two of them could simultaneously reach out their 18+ inch necks and probably reach me right in the middle of the trail. One dang goose biting each leg at the same time. And there would still be two others!

I quickly scan left and right, but the trail drops off too steeply. I might slip and fall down the hill and end up on the front of a Chevy Suburban. And then I see that beyond the four geese are several others down below them on the sides of the hill. Damn. I’m screwed. There are geese everywhere, waiting patiently for me to get within steps of their black beaks to bite a huge hole in one of my thighs or calves.

There was no choice but to run right through the middle of them. I took a deep breath and plunged forward.

The geese continued eating and I sailed right between them.

Nothing. No response at all.

So why am I telling you this story? Well, because sometimes things scare us for no reason at all. If we were to let our imaginations drive everything we do, we’d probably never do anything. Sure, I was scared of those geese, but there wasn’t anything to be scared of at all.

It may be scary starting a new training program or running on the track for the first time. It might be scary committing to running a marathon. There are so many things to be scared of: rain storms, potential injuries, crazed drivers, street crossings, tripping and falling, not being successful. There so many things to be scared of and it’s even scarier when we’ve had bad experiences in our past.

But even with all of those scary things out there, we won’t know unless we try.

I had ended up having a great run yesterday and now those geese will live in infamy. I have a new story to tell. I’ll go back out there and run that trail again tomorrow or the next day. Those geese are not going to stop this full-grown ex-two-year old. I won’t let those in-grown geese fears get the better of me. And, I hope that your fears won’t get in your way either. You won’t know what obstacles you’ll face unless you go out and try.

One of the last pieces of advice that I always give to marathon runners before they go off to race is this: don’t dwell on things that are of your control. Prepare for them, react to them as they happen, but take the energy that you’d spend worrying about them and just channel it into thinking about all that you’ve done to prepare.

You’ll be much happier. I promise.