I watched the new version of King Kong the other day. At over three hours this soon becomes one of those movies where you keep checking your watch to see how much longer until the end.
But that wasn’t my real problem with the film. It was Ann Darrow’s ( played by Naomi Watts) teeth. They kept changing colors. At the beginning of the film, which takes place during the depression, they were somewhat gray and lack luster. On the boat to Skull Island they radiated a white unearthly glow. On the island, when she was terrified of King Kong, they went back to their dull grayish color. And of course at the end of the film, on top of the Empire State building during her close up as the sun is rising over New York, her teeth were so white I almost had to put on my sunglasses.
It is during moments like this that the magic spell of the movie is broken, when I can clearly see the heavy hand of the film maker, that I lose interest and check my watch.
The same thing happens when I’m watching a movie and there’s a scene in a car. Almost always the filmmakers remove the headrest from the front seats so you can see the actors better and shoot them from behind. No matter what the actors are saying or doing I’m thinking to myself, “What the hell happened to the headrest?” Or “Who would buy a car without a headrest?”
The movie magic is broken and I’m checking my watch. Have you noticed that the same thing can happen during a race? One second you are completely living in the moment, and the next second something happens and the race seems to go on without you.
This certainly happened to me was when I flatted eight times during my last Iron Distance Race. Click Here to read about it. The first two flats I could fix since I had two spares, but by the third flat the magic was broken. I sat on the side of the road watching the other athletes zoom by and I knew I was outside looking in at the race.
This also happened to me during this year’s Boulder Peak Triathlon when a swimmer died in the wave just before mine. Click Here to read about it. The magic was broken.
From these races and a few other races I learned an important lesson this year that changed my definition of winning. I used to believe that winning was either a) winning the race or my age group or b) achieving a preset goal or personal best. Don’t get me wrong these are still important to me but not as important as they once used to be.
I’ve come to realize that the my definition of winning is how I deal with that moment when the magic is broken or, in other words, how I react when things don’t go my way.
I suppose I learned this lesson because over the years I worked my way up the food chain from sprint to iron distance races. The chances of things going wrong in a longer race are obviously greater, as there is just more time for them to head South.
This does not mean that you won’t have problems in a sprint race. I recall a local sprint race my wife did a few years ago where she had just gotten a road bike. Before than we both raced on our mountain bikes, which are pretty sturdy beasts and tend not to break so easily.
She just got on the bike and started peddling up the first hill when her chain fell off. Being new to road bikes and in the heat of battle, she began what to her seemed like an eternal battle to get the chain back on. This battle with the bike raged back and forth as she fought to replace the chain. It culminated in a long string of expletives that would make a old Turkish sailor blush and eventual victory on her part. Only then did she happen to look up and see the completely open-mouthed and stunned young family of spectators trying to enjoy their Sunday morning.
At least she didn’t do what this bike racer did at the end of his race. Click Here to watch an all time classic moment of biking. You’ll notice that not only did he celebrate way too early, but that after his fall, when he tried to salvage the race, his chain too had fallen off.
It is how I deal with these magic moments of racing that for a Clydesdale like me, define winning and loosing. Now you don’t have to flat or have a mechanical breakdown to experience a magic moment. It happens all the time…especially on the swim and run.
Let’s face it, it is pretty easy to be in the moment when all is going well, when you feel fine and the race gods are with you. But what happens when somebody accidentally kicks you in the face at the start of the race and knocks off your goggles? This almost happened to Joanna Zeiger at this year’s Ironman Brazil, except that her goggles stayed on while her nose broke. Even with a broken nose she managed to win the race.
Or what happens when that wetsuit that you borrowed is too tight. This happened to my neighbor during an open water swim a few years ago. What did she do? She actually peeled off her wet suit IN THE WATER, gave it to a lifeguard, and kept swimming. This must be some kind of feat of magic because I can barely remove my wet suit on dry land.
How about when things go South on the run? I’m sure you’ve had cramps and usual stomach issues. But how about Tim DeBoom passing a kidney stone? That’s what actually happened to him a few years ago during the Kona world championships. I was watching the race as he was vying for the lead. One moment he was running a 5-minute mile and the next moment he was in an ambulance on the way to the hospital. Can you image the pain of passing a kidney stone DURING an Ironman race?
Now if that won’t break the magic of the race moment, nothing will.