The Last 50 Meters

This is a description of the pain that needs to be endured in high-performance sport, and the surprising spiritual benefits of subjecting yourself to it.

      I felt like sharing my thoughts on a wholly unorginal concept that tends to crop up when people talk of great performances in sport. And so I... I am doing that. Like, right now. The idea is, there is a change in consciousness when someone is stretching the limits of their physical ability to accomplish something. They transcend, to a different plateau of awareness. There is an entire field's worth of data on the subject; just ask any sport psychologist. I would urge you to read the literature yourself. 

      For me, this shift, or change in consciousness, occurs in the last 50 meters of any important, well-executed race. I don't think it's possible to get there unless the dominoes have fallen into place, so to speak. If you lose motivation and give up before it's over, even for the smallest of moments, you'll never get there. The concentration required has been lost, and for me at least, getting it back is at least improbable, if not impossible. It's tricky to pull off, let's put it that way.

    Having everything go to plan means that by the last 50 meters of the race, everything                                                                                                                                                  is

                                                                                                                             screaming.

 

    You are losing control of your body. Where before your arms were relaxed and powerful, they are now tight and unruly.Your legs weigh so much. How can you pull on the footboard again? How can you lift that leg? The orders you give your body no longer match the results. You tell your arms to slam the paddle in the water; instead, your paddle slaps feebly on the surface. At every junction your body is fighting you. 

    It's worth noting that there's a distinct difference between what it feels like to have your muscles ache, and what it feels like to have your muscles scream at you. It's pain. It's complete pain. Your body hates you for it. It is the quintessential mind over matter scenario. This place makes you question yourself. It makes you wonder why you're doing this at all; what could be worth this pain? What makes you think you have the self-worth to endure?

 

    I would describe it as a state that approaches delirium. However, the gift, the true gift of reaching this place and asking yourself these questions, is that you get to answer them, in the truest sense of the word. In this moment you're not thinking about your expenses, or the girls that are watching, or any of the day-to-day crap that normally fills your head; all of that is being blocked out by the relentless pain. You can answer the questions without need of reason or explanation. You don't have the capacity in this moment to think with those parts of yourself anyway. For example, whenever I'm asked the question, "why are you doing this?" In that place, I always answer "because I want to." Normally that wouldn't be a satisfactory response, but in the last 50 meters, it is the most true and worthy response. It is the vague drive and motivation which underlies almost everything that I do. I don't necessarily have a better, more complete answer than that, and if I did, it would be less true. The whole point is that you can't truly answer these questions until you've left the rest of the world behind. You're left with your innermost doubts and your innermost motivations. It is a changed state of consciousness.

 

    To reach this place is essentially the only reason I paddle at all. It's not that I don't enjoy the friendships or the habits that come with paddling; they just pale in comparison. To know the last 50 meters of a race is to know yourself, and to me that's everything. And the moments are so few, and so fleeting, that I feel driven to get back there, because I want to know more about myself. I think I only had the chance once last season in the K2 1000m final at Nationals, so I have to thank you for that one Scott. 

 

I very much wonder if everyone else experiences this as well. Has anyone else had a similar experience that was achieved through different means? Let me hear your thoughts. 

 

 

- km

Author's Note

I think the biggest flaw about this piece is the pacing/rhythm of the sentences (sentence length isn't variable enough).

Reviews

[Alex Vidmar]

I don't see anything really wrong with this story Ken. Honestly, I like how you subject the reader to truly feel as though they are in the position during the last 50 meters. I really like this one. Would you mind reviewing and/or rating one of my stories?

Thanks in advance, and Peace.