The Stories We Tell Ourselves

How often do you get out of your comfort zone?

My mum is 82 years old and regularly tells me that, as a result, she “can’t shop how she used to”. I take this with a pinch of salt, as she did a very good impression of a shopper half her age as we entered Zara on a busy Saturday last weekend. We quickly fell into our well honed shopping rhythms- “no, that’s awful”, “yes, get it!”- whilst we poured over clothes that, to eyes not as astute and well trained as ours, might look identical to the zillion black dresses already in our wardrobes…

And it was on this bustling Saturday morning that I found myself in a huge queue for the fitting room, where I was stood behind 2 women who were talking about running. My ears pricked up, like the cocktail effect, finely tuned to runners (or anyone!) talking about running.

One of the ladies was telling her friend how she had tried to go out running again the other day but that she’d had to phone her husband to come and pick her up. She explained that she’d been running and thought a van was going to stop to let her cross the road but it didn’t, so she’d had to put the emergency brakes on. Her stop, she said, was sudden and “jerky”, resulting in her pulling and aggravating her neck. She went on to describe the pain, how she couldn’t possibly continue her run, hence phoning her husband for a lift home.

She continued (I said the queue was long), to talk about her frustrations as this was the second time the same “injury” had happened. After the first sudden “jerk” movement, she told her friend, she’d rested for a week only for it to happen again the next time she went out.

Her next plan, she told her friend (while I pretended very intently not to be listening), was resting for 2 weeks instead this time. At this point, I had to physically restrain myself from piping up, offering “unsolicited” (if qualified!) advice. But I just about managed to remind myself it was nothing to do with me, so I kept quiet and instead her friend did the advising, suggesting she could try and run from home and do just 5 minutes out, then run back.

I thought this was good advice (nodding approvingly whilst pretending to be checking a label), as it was grounded in the good, common sense that running 5 minutes from home would reduce the chance of any further “encounters” where she’d have to stop suddenly.

But even before the good advice giver had finished speaking, the runner cut across her, and the tone of the reply was one that I’ve heard (and used) many times. You know the one, the tone where you hear yourself or somebody else say “oh yes, that’s a good idea, I’ll do that!” whilst knowing in fact you/they have ZERO intention of following the advice.

Why do we do that? And what does it stop us from achieving? There are many theories that we all hold an internal belief system that portrays a negative story about who we are and what we’re capable of. Sometimes this story has already convinced us that we’re going to fail so why bother trying? You say all the right words, nod in the appropriate place, but inside you know that there isn’t a cat in hells chance that you’re going to do whatever it is that takes you outside of your comfort zone!

It might be that you’re “too old to start running”, or “haven’t got time” to run a marathon/half marathon/ultra/trail/10km/parkrun/, that you “haven’t got the right body for running”, or that you’re “not sporty”. One I hear very often is “I need to lose weight first, and then I’ll run”. The stories we tell ourselves are endless- “I’m too busy!”, “I’m too tired”, even aesthetic things like “my gym kit needs washing!”, or “I haven’t got the latest gear!” or even, “I can’t run because sudden movements aggravate my neck…” you get the picture.

Witnessing this conversation play out set me off on thinking about all the things we convince ourselves we can’t do, without even really trying.

What do you convince yourself you can’t do? How many things have you said no to, even though deep down, you really want to do it but are worried you’d be no good at it, too scared to get out of your comfort zone.

Why are we so frightened of failing, and why don’t we want to feel uncomfortable?

In the past I’ve backed out of races for precisely this reason. I’ve gotten all the way to the morning of the race and then faked an illness or injury because I couldn’t “face” it. On that day, I just didn’t have enough courage to show up, because I was afraid of doing badly, of failing. Not to excuse myself, but I think my own feeling of fears have been exacerbated by being a running coach as well as a runner these past 10 + years, as it adds a whole other level of thoughts that can be paralysing.

I’ve got a pseudonym parkrun identity, a barcode with a fake name, and I don’t think it is at all a coincidence that it’s got my best parkrun time. It speaks volumes to me that it clearly freed me from the mental pressure I usually put myself under, I was completely anonymous and smashed it. Slightly frustrating that I can’t brag about this 5km pb, as it would mean my cover would be blown…

As a coach (and as a human!), I know that to succeed and progress sometimes we must be uncomfortable. Becoming comfortable with being uncomfortable is a key skill I try to train and encourage in the runners I coach. You’ll often hear me gently prodding and probing their internal narratives by asking them, “what’s stopping you from running faster?” Often, once (and if we’re able to) get underneath all the other stuff in the way, the simple answer is fear.

Last month I had to take a huge dose of my own advice when I was asked to speak in front of Fareham Borough Council (my local council), to share mine and my club members experience of street harassment, something I am SUPER passionate about and have written previously about here.

I replied to the email request…..I’d love to BUT I’m sorry I work every evening…I deleted that….I’d love to BUT I wouldn’t be able to get anyone to cover my session…..I deleted that and I took a deep breathe….

I’d love to support you, it sounds amazing.

I got out of my comfort zone, I admitted to myself that I was a bit scared, but we put a few strategies in place and last Thursday I presented our case.

It was fantastic, most importantly though, it was liberating, at last, I was finally free from the shackles that had irrationally and frustratingly held me back from public speaking- a reoccurring memory of a panic attack 25 years ago, when my flight or fight response took over my rational brain and I fled a room full of strangers that I was presenting to.

Yes I was still nervous, I was worried that I wouldn’t be in control of my body’s response, so I used the techniques I teach runners about races and that I use myself. I prepared, planned and visualised how I was going to present myself, seeing myself up there, sharing our important story, leading by example.

I pushed myself out of my comfort zone, and afterwards I was rewarded by a feeling of well and hard earned pride, just like we as runners do every time we really show up for ourselves. And I didn’t even need a pseudonym…

And speaking of comfort zones! From next week, paid subscribers will start to receive training plans created by me, a human- see last week’s post for why I think that’s important- fine tuned over the course of my 10+ years coaching runners of all ages, shapes, sizes and life stages. If you’d like to become a paid subscriber (as a reward for reading all this way!), you can sign up here and get 50% off.