PUBLISHED 05/09/2008
Matt Reed, a 6'5" professional triathlete, is laid-back. Almost shy. He's described as a "nice guy."
"I don't get as angry as I should," he says. "I've been told my whole career, 'You need to hate all your competitors on race day,' and I struggle to do that."
Like many athletes, Reed has been led to believe that anger is the best emotional fuel for race-day success. That approach has been described as the "warrior mentality," "killer instinct," or even "being reptilian-brained." And there is, in fact, anecdotal evidence to back up the belief that race-day rage works.
"I see the anger thing. I use that a lot," says elite marathoner Peter Gilmore, recalling what he felt in the latter stages of the Boston Marathon in 2006 and 2007 when he finished as the first American. "It's not rational. It's a crazy thought. You know these guys. They're nice guys. They might even be your friends. But at that point they're not your friends. They're somebody you want to beat."
Gilmore says anger was even more valuable to him before he became a marathoner. "When I was younger, running cross-country and track a lot, I really needed to have a good kick at the end. Boy, I'd get really pissed at the guy who was out in front of me or maybe the guy that was trying to catch me. It would really be an emotional anger."
But while it may get top billing, anger is not the only emotion that fuels great performances. Some top athletes thrive on fear: The fear of being caught.
Gaston Roelants of Belgium, a 1964 Olympic gold medalist, is reputed to have run himself into a frenzy during a twilight race in which he could see the shadow of a competitor who appeared to be right on his shoulder. It was only after crossing the finish line that he discovered his competitors weren't even close. The shadow was his. As author Mark Will-Weber writes in The Quotable Runner, "In essence the great Roelants, as tough a man as anyone who laced on racing shoes, had been scared of his own shadow."
Former top-ranked triathlete Barb Lindquist says she didn't race with fear nor did she have a killer instinct. Yet Lindquist was known for racing with abandon. A Christian, Lindquist says race day was a joyful time. It was a day to play with friends. "I'd get to the starting line and be like, 'Wow, this is exciting...I wonder how God is going to use me today in the race.' And my identity wasn't wrapped up in it. It just totally took the pressure off of racing."
