7 Step Action Plan to Conquer Scary Stuff (Part 1)

I knew I was physically capable of doing it, I’d done it several times in the past. So what was getting in the way of me ACTUALLY doing it NOW??? Over a period of a few months, the idea of riding “the scary corner” on my bike loomed bigger and scarier and I felt worse and worse. I don’t know what had changed in my mind – nothing had changed on the trail, so I figured it was some sort of powerful intra-psychic voodoo playing with my confidence and keeping me feeling small and pathetic. I couldn’t even blame it on a fall or anything like that!

After much soul searching, I made the commitment to myself that I was going to conquer the fear that had irrationally built up in my mind. I really wanted to take charge of my fearful thoughts which seemed to be controlling my actions. It was as if my own thoughts were bullying me. The longer it went on, the worse it became. I knew that if I could get this sorted, I’d be able to transfer the skills and processes to other situations that make me nervous and better manage them as well.

So here’s the 7 Step Action Plan that helped me overcome my fear of riding “the scary corner”:

  1. Walk it through

That’s right. The first thing I did was leave the bike behind, put on my sports shoes, and simply walk the corner – repeatedly! I familiarised myself with every stone, stick and slope. I walked it forwards and backwards. I looked at it from every possible angle. “The scary corner” and myself got to know each other well, and we gradually became friends!

  1. “Is anything missing?”

By getting down close and personal with the scary corner I was able to see that there was, in fact, nothing in it that I couldn’t ride. Tight left bend – check. Six inch drop over a rock – check. Angle of slope – check. Width of trail – not a problem. Nope ….. I wasn’t missing any particular skills apart from the ability to curb the fantastic stories my mind was creating about how scary the corner is! And as for equipment, well my bike is well maintained and more than capable of negotiating this terrain.

The Scary Corner is quite photogenic! It really doesn’t look so scary here!
  1. Make modifications – physical and / or psychological

I’d been noticing that other people often lowered their seats when descending. I also noticed my own urge to get my weight lower and further back on similar corners on other trails. So, I lowered my saddle and instantly felt a lot more secure about my body position on rough descending trails. This triggered a whole new attitude of positivity and hopefulness.

  1. Identify your focus

    Keep your eyes on the sticks, NOT the cactus or the steep slope or the rocks!

Our eyes are naturally drawn towards danger. It’s a protective mechanism which sometimes backfires on us. Mountain biking is often counter-intuitive. If you focus on the obstacle, that’s where you’ll go. To help train my eye away from the steep slope, rocks and trees that I wanted to avoid as I approached the corner, I lined the ground on the right side with small twigs to act as a visual aid (a bit like the white line marking on the road). Then I walked the trail again and again, practising keeping my eye on the twigs and not looking at the stuff I wanted to avoid!

  1. Practise your exit
Practise the technical parts of the exit – keep on track, get over the drop-off, & time your peddling to get past the craggy rocks as you go back uphill!

I now began to think about actually riding the corner. But there were a couple of tricky parts and I noticed a feeling welling up inside me – the fear of getting halfway round the corner then getting trapped because I mightn’t be able to exit properly. I visualised myself falling off on the rocks and knocking my head on a tree as I tumbled down the slope and through the prickly pear. So, I needed to do something to allay my concerns. I set to work practising my exit skills on “the scary corner”. Repeatedly I walked my bike halfway round the corner so I could ride the second half of it only, over the drop-off and carefully navigate between the large protruding rocks, timing my pedal strokes just right so that I didn’t knock myself off. This built a lot more confidence and eliminated a few of the scary factors that had been distracting me.

  1. Make your entrance!

    A short steep downhill section between and over the rocks forms the entry to the sharp-ish left hand corner.

Well now that I knew I had it all together in my head and that I could physically do it, all that was left was to make my entrance. Get down low and go, go, go! I think I even remembered to breathe, and suddenly I’d done it! In a brief second or two, I’d successfully navigated “the scary corner” and wondered what all the fuss had been about!

  1. Celebrate your growth

It may seem trivial to other people, and you may be the only one who truly knows what your achievement means to you. But don’t let that stop you from learning, practising, growing, and celebrating. Whatever your style – whoop out loud to the universe, punch the air, pat yourself on the back, or maybe even write a blog about it!

What things make you feel nervous? Maybe going to a meeting or party where you’re not sure if you know anyone? Going in a lift? Making a phone call that you’ve been dreading? How might the 7 Step Action Plan help you to conquer your fear or change a behaviour habit?

Read my next blog post about applying the 7 Step Action Plan to some “everyday scenarios” that commonly get our nerves going and our minds racing.

 

Left and right handedness: inner control issues of a mountain biker

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As a self-confessed strongly right-side dominated person, I have had my challenges on the trickier, more technical sections of trail rides. My right foot LOVES to step off my bike first. Anything else simply feels totally unnatural. But this urge doesn’t always serve me well. Take for example the many times I’ve come to a stop on a narrow trail with an obstacle in front of me, a rocky wall on my left side, and a sheer drop-off on my right. Let the image come to your mind, and you will see both the fear in my face and the ridiculousness of my bodily action as I desperately try to balance on …. well, nothing! and clutch at anything to stop the inevitable fall and slide, grazes and prickles.

Even learning to move my weight around on my bike has been a challenge in some respects. For general balance I have no issues, but when it comes to finely tuning the coordination of my left and right sides to safely negotiate tight switchbacks, I feel pretty awkward. Weighting and unweighting my left and right hands has been a journey into tough neurological territory. I’ve spent hours practising drills, telling my left side what to do over and again, with pretty slow progress.

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When you stop to think about it, our whole lives are about control issues. As babies, we begin the process of learning to control our bodies from a seemingly simple movement of the hand, shaking and jerking in what appears to be a random fashion, gaining greater control over our gross motor and fine motor skills with practice. Learning control of bodily functions like toileting and speech. Learning to balance on two legs instead of four, most of us then progress towards running, hopping, jumping. Learning to coordinate our mouths and hands to eat with a degree of gentility. Learning to regulate emotions and behaviours. And the most wondrous of joys – learning to balance on a bicycle with just two wheels!

By this stage of life most of us have a preference for using the right or left side of our bodies. As adults we’ve had many years of practice doing things with the same dominance. Some people I know have had injuries that have necessitated learning to use their less dominant side. Watching my son gain competent use of his non-dominant side over several months as he recovered from a complicated break in his elbow inspired me to teach myself some new tricks, like playing sport left-handed and winding the clothes-line up and down with my left hand. The knowledge that our brains have a degree of plasticity gives me hope that on my bike I can, and will, gradually develop skills that will improve my riding, confidence and enjoyment.

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Practising is something that I do a lot but I still find it hard. Getting my brain and my left side talking to each other is not something that comes naturally to me and it can be very frustrating. Over time I’ve come to realise that instead of messaging my left side a list of instructions, it’s actually more helpful to simply tell my right side to back off. This leaves space for my left side to do what it already knows, albeit a bit slower. The scenario reminds me of a child whose sibling / parent / friend does everything for them because it’s quicker and easier, and although often done with a loving intent, it prevents the child from developing the skills themselves.

Sitting back and observing the process, I can see these sorts of control issues mirrored in other areas of my life. To facilitate growth, it’s sometimes helpful to cut back, cut off or put firm boundaries up around a part of ourselves or our lives – give space to those parts of ourselves that need space; give time to those parts of ourselves that need time. And with practice, this gets easier too!

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