Easier said than done

Last night, I saw a post on my Facebook feed from a friend and valued triathlon partner that really struck a chord with me. He had just completed a ride at the Ironman Canada training camp in Whistler, B.C., and realized that his Ironman dream was already over.

Not because he didn't have the stamina to complete the 140.6-mile odyssey (he can). But rather because the bike course is on roads that feature sharp drop-offs and severe cliffs, which induce panic attacks in him. Boy, did that hit me right where I live.

I've had a fear of heights for as long as I can remember. As a child, coming down my aunt and uncle's staircase (which had open slots between the stairs) terrified me. I had to go down on my rump. Eventually I was able to walk down, but never confidently. Overtime, that particular fear has lessened (I managed to go up on a chairlift to ski -- never happily, but I did it, and got talked into parasailing, which turned out to be fun the second time around), but it has also evolved. Wide open drop-offs, particularly around curves, open stair cases, elevated walkways with open sides, all give me a severe sense of vertigo and panic. In fact, there is a stretch of Highway 2, coming down westbound from Stevens Pass, that I avoid like the plague simply because if gives me the willies. I'm talking in my car, not on my bike.

When I look to sign up for races, elevation profiles are among the first things I study, and avoid mountainous venues. The races are difficult and stressful enough without adding in a ready-made hurdle that turns what's supposed to be fun into pure terror.

Yes, forcing yourself to do something that scares you is a way to get over the fear. But it is not fun. And it takes a long time (see my first post for a taste of my descending fear) to become more comfortable in the situation (you never completely "get over" them). And having people tell you that everything will be fine and that it's something you just have to work at to get over does not help. Phobias are irrational. If conscious thought could fix them, then somebody would have come up with a master fix by now. I have zero fear of swimming or being in the open water with hundreds of people around me, bumping and slapping me. But I can appreciate the absolute horror that fills those who are afraid in the water.

It takes bravery to admit your fears, much less share them for all your friends and family to see. So I wanted to send this shout-out to Grant, and tell him that you have plenty of fellow travelers. There are more races to conquer, and we'll be there right with you.