Complacency vs Insanity

I had an angry coach once. He was slightly irrational, emotionally unstable, frequently hungover and he yelled a lot. But he cared. And he never settled for complacency.

For some very good reasons, he left. And was replaced by some very rational coaches who were slightly more stable, weren't angry, and didn't yell.

To coach a masters team, it is arguably more important to be able to handle the emotional drama than it is to push past the edge of insanity in search of athletic excellence.

But I miss that insanity. I miss his crazy drive to do better. I miss working with someone who cares so much he will risk his own job and security because he believes we can push harder, get faster, do more, break through barriers.

Don't misunderstand me. Every coach I have worked with believes in me. Some have called me too intense, or too much of a perfectionist, yet they appreciate my speed and dedication. The difference is that they all urge me to seek a more balanced approach to rowing. And, if they are looking at my overall functioning and happiness, they have a point. I would be happier if I could accept a little more imperfection in life. My work colleagues might appreciate a little more complacency. My family would prefer a little less insanity.

So I try to be more complacent. And it works. I still win races. I still get faster. I just care a little less. And as I head into a long winter of erging, I wonder why I am still doing this existential, meaningless training. Why should I care? What goals do I have?

Out of the blue, my angry coach emails me. He asks how I am doing. Why I am not racing more. Why haven't I done a 2k this fall? Why am I slacking?

Slacking?!?

I think about my accomplishments this year, and I know I haven't been slacking. This coach is crazy. But then he asks me what my goals are. Am I going to take 15 more seconds off my 2k? How good do I want to get?

My initial reaction is "Damn you. There are not15 more seconds to take off my 2k. That is TOO HARD"

I want to cry. I am never good enough for him. I cannot succeed by his unreasonable standards. I will only be a slacker in his eyes.

Complacency lets me feel successful right where I am.

But a minute later, I feel the remembered thirst for excellence. The taste of desire. That primal "want". The drive. A familiar flavor, but one I have not tasted in a while.

In his crazy, unstable view of this world, my old coach thinks I should look past my current successes and reach further, dig deeper, work harder, want bigger, do more.

He says "Don't be a chickenshit, Robyn."

I bristle at his words. I am NOT a chickenshit!

But I know what he means. Complacency has spread her warm fingers around me, surrounding me in her oily grasp, holding me down, massaging my ego, plying me with drink, allowing me to feel self-satisfied without the soul-wrenching self-doubt and vulnerability.

I examine my options. Sanity vs. Manic Drive. Good vs Best. Complacency vs.Excellence.

I click shut the email from my old coach, and know I have more reasonable coaches now. I don't have to listen to him.

But as I lie in bed that night looking up at the ceiling, I start calculating the splits I would need to take 15 seconds off my 2k.