I’m re-visting my read of the Flow book, which I received a few months ago but was halfway through another book, so I didn’t want to start another until I finished that one. This weekend, while posted up inside icing my broken arm, I cracked open Flow again and started over. Starting over is just something I do.
Since my injury almost three weeks ago, I’ve thought a lot about what went wrong. I talked to Pops about it; I explained what happened to my riding buddies; I prayed to the universe: what went wrong? I was riding so well; I was relaxed and confident, minimizing mistakes, knowing I was on the gas. I came into the check more worried about my time than I was exiting the chicane without crashing. And that’s just it. That’s why. I let my guard down. I lifted my ego up. Instead of trusting in my own race, I was worried, and that’s what lead me to my proper face-plant ending: the fruitlessness of my worry. It was so pointless. I wasn’t committed to what I was doing, I was worried about how I would stack up against the pro who had just passed me like I was standing still. So, that’s how I compared: I didn’t. I was disappointed I wasn’t winning; it was burning me up that I didn’t know what the plan was for me, anymore. What wasn’t working, I worried? It was me.
So, the goal for the next four weeks, remember: today’s disappointment is tomorrow’s blessing. I’m not going to worry about it, anymore. It’s one of the hardest things to put into practice: focusing on what you cannot see, thinking only about what can be next, letting your skills do the work at hand so your mind is free to contemplate – thanks, Pops for the pep talk.
“Coming into the check can be a moment of pre-Zen. Everything is good. Everything is complete. Our guard goes down. You went down. Fate. No fireworks.” – Pops