WHAT ARE YOU AFRAID OF! by Harry Adams

Issue 318 - AUGUST 2012

confront and conquer your fears

Pumped up? Yes. Terrifed? No. if Boujmaa was he wouldn’t be able to perform; but confidence in his own skill and fitness combined with detailed preparation allows him to perform with a degree of relaxed calm. There are no real adrenalin junkies. They’re all dead. Photo John Carter

Words Peter Hart | PHOTOS Hart Photography

WHAT ARE YOU AFRAID OF!

It’s the most powerful of human emotions, which both inspires and incapacitates. But in windsurfing, it’s usually the latter. Peter Hart suggests that unless you understand, confront and conquer your fears, the learning of new techniques is, at best, impossible.

At life-coaching, self-helping seminars, which are so worryingly in vogue these days, the motivational guru often poses the question; “what would you do in your life if you knew you couldn’t fail?” The obvious answer is ‘put all your savings on a rank outsider in the Grand National.’ However, I suspect the question is more about how the fear of failure pours cold water on our dreams and ambitions. As a windsurfer, striving for the next level, ask yourself a similar question: “what would I do if I weren’t afraid of hurting myself or getting into trouble?” The answer is – you’d probably do lots more and do it right.

AUGUST 2012

Fear is an integral part of any balance sport, especially one that takes place at speed in a foreign element containing toothy monsters and under which we can’t breathe. In a perverse way, it’s even part of the attraction. But if you want to improve, you need to understand the fear and get it under control. We recognise the gut-wrenching terror of launching into big waves for the first time or trying to dip into that first forward. But less obvious and equally harmful on a day-to-day basis are the wee reservations that breed defensive habits and infect basic techniques. Yet more insidious is the very basic anxiety of looking a Pratt. Repeated walks of shame, the indignity of serial falls trying something new in front of peers, can force people into an ever-shrinking comfort zone. So windsurfing poses a threat to your very survival, your soft tissues and your pride – it’s a wonder we do it all.

“ Slow, heavy feet, love handles and lack of fitness lie at the top of the recreational sailor’s ‘blame’ list for a stagnating performance. But in truth the fear of ‘what happens if …’ is way more inhibiting than a bit of chub ”

FEAR and the ADRENALIN FACTOR

Adrenalin floods the system when we’re truly threatened. The right amount heightens our awareness and reactions. Too much of it produces uncontrolled, impulsive and usually violent movements. Worse still, they’re defensive, which spells disaster in almost every windsurfing situation.

When you felt that sudden pull, which threatened to haul you hooked-in over the handlebars, adrenaline made you just grip and heave. White knuckles are technically useless. It’s a fight response, which corrupts your stance, employs the wrong muscle groups, leaves you close to the boom and does nothing to ease the evil force.

Calm Nutters

The forward loop encapsulates the fear/adrenalin issue perfectly. On take-off the flood of adrenalin makes you do all the things that ensure a crash. You pull on both arms, head up and stare down at the void …Photo Dave White

Deal with it! In any sport that contains an element of risk, there’s a simple rule. You have to deal with fear and any psychological issues before you have a chance of moving on. Most fears are readily treatable. There lies the secret – treat them! Many plod on accepting that a constant state of mild trepidation is all part of the game. But if they were to take the time to sit down and work out what it is they’re actually afraid of, they will so often discover that the smallest change in selection of gear and venue or choice of thought process can produce a carefree world. When people are afraid, they learn very little. The survival instinct is so strong that it consumes every cell of brain space and prevents normal service. Coming up are a few enlightening case studies. First however, let’s get a little scientific and blow a myth or two regarding fear and sport.

The Adrenaline Myth Extreme sportsmen such as base jumpers, free-ride skiers and windsurfers who ride waves the size of ‘Jaws’, are often referred to as ‘adrenaline junkies.’ (By inference therefore anyone who flirts even with the lower end of such activities, must also have a minor drug problem). The assumption is that the thrill comes from confronting your mortality, getting terminally terrified at which point their system is flooded with life-enhancing adrenalin. Nothing could be further from the truth.

...and then pile on top of all the kit. Photo Dave White

There are very few such adrenalin junkies because most of them are dead. Adrenalin is a hangover from early man’s ‘fight-or-flight’ panic response necessary to survive in the wild and deal with a daily ambush by a ravenous saber-toothed tiger. The effects of an adrenalin rush are heightened awareness and senses, along with a boost in the production of energy in muscle cells producing extraordinary feats of strength – all of which appear useful to the sportsman pushing the limits. But - unfortunately adrenaline also raises the body’s blood pressure to abnormal levels, quickens the respiratory cycle (makes you hyperventilate to feed oxygen to muscles, which are working much harder than usual) and causes the outer blood vessels to constrict. That’s bad news if you’re trying to sustain a level of constant effort (basically you’ll get knackered in minutes). But the other problem that is specifically relevant to windsurfers, is that the physical actions resulting from high levels of adrenaline are impulsive and violent – i.e., you have little control over them. When you lose control driving, you grip the steering wheel and stamp both feet, which stops you steering properly and locks up the wheels. In windsurfing, for steering wheel, read boom. Remember using the harness for the first time?

The successful (and still living) ‘extreme’ sportsmen are strangely calm and organized - the very antithesis of ‘impulsive.’ Those riding Jaws are prepared to an anal degree. Their kit is perfect for the job. They have trained physically and are fit enough to swim and hold breath for an hour or two. They fully understand the break and where to take off. They’ve pored over the forecast for days. And they have the ‘what if?’ factor taken care of by a Jetski and rider they trust. With most of the fears allayed, they can attack it, pumped-up for sure, but NOT in a state of adrenaline-induced panic. It’s only if they’re calm that they can operate the heavy machinery. Hence someone riding that titanic wave can actually look a good deal less ruffled than a near novice wrestling with a force two. What we all seek is that boundary line between the jitters you experience in anticipation of a challenging session and a gut-wrenching dread that totally incapacitates. Fear tells you a lot about yourself. The secret is to listen.

Knowing You During a break in the wind at one of the early White Air festivals, the limelight was grabbed by a team of mountain boarders performing an aerial display off a kicker ramp in the car park. A mountain board, by the way, is a big off-road skateboard with pneumatic tyres. I should also point out that between the take off and landing ramps lay a void with nothing to catch the misguided, somersaulting jumper other than the tarmac of the car park itself. I have yet to see an activity more guaranteed to maim. It even had its own kind of ‘crash and ride’ shuttle bus ferrying broken adolescents to A and E. I got talking to one of the competitors (who I identified thanks to a gaping wound on his elbow) and suggested that, as pastimes go, his was pretty suicidal and wasn’t he petrified every time he stood at the top? “Nah, not really. I’ve taken a few nasty ones but you get used to it.” He then asked me what I was doing at the festival and when I told him, his jaw dropped as he stuttered: “You do that wwwindsurfing thing out to sea? Now that is NUTS! I mean what happens if you hurt yourself?

www.windsurf.co.uk

FEAR and the ENVIRONMENT

The survival instinct is so strong that it occupies every inch of brain space. If the conditions or the venue are making you feel uneasy, you have no choice but to come in, work out what it is that’s bothering you and change something, even if that means moving. The pictures below show two offshore wind situations. One is the ‘speedy’ at Dahab. Although a training haven for many intermediates, some are truly spooked by the cavernous horizon to which the wind threatens to blow them. The other pic is Donegal’s Magheroarty beach. The waves are big and the wind offshore, but it feels like a friendly place to sail. The presence of land and houses in the sailing vision seems to reassure people.

In total panic and about to breathe in water, I wrestled so hard that I snapped one end of the harness line. Now THAT’s adrenaline in action! But it’s not a state in which you want to be in for a whole session.

FEAR and FOCUS The way to combat most types of fear, whether they arise from the environment or the activity itself is through positive focus. Fear corrupts our concentration and diverts our attention down dark alleys. Changing the focus helps to wrestle back the initiative. Here are some examples.

Changing the view

Islands, houses and greenery give the Irish beach a Dahab’s glorious ‘speedy’ with its flat water, strong secure feeling despite the big waves and offshore wind. wind and slightly spooky horizon. Who’s going to look after you? When I hurt myself, me Mum’s right there and she scrapes me off the pavement and takes me to hospital.” In retrospect I learned many lessons from that short interchange.

who really hated his/her head to go underwater. He/she spent every session avoiding any sort of watery confrontation. He/she hated it. It was like shoving an Arachnophobe into a den of spiders.

1. Mountain board boy identified his fears. To most of us, anyone who would rather drop out of the sky onto concrete rather soft forgiving water, is clearly mad. However, mentally he was in a far better place than many windsurfers because he was acutely aware of what frightened him. It wasn’t pain. In a ‘Jackass the Movie’ type way, pain was a part of his game and injuries a badge of honour. He also had confidence in his athleticism to believe what he was doing wasn’t fatally dangerous. What he couldn’t entertain however, was the idea of being injured without immediate help. But with his mum and mates on hand with a tube of Savlon and a cup o’ tea, he was mentally free to strut his loony stuff. Very few windsurfers have heads that free.

One bloke I met had been trying to loop for 15 years. When I asked him exactly what he was afraid of, he said “breaking my neck.” That’s not good either. When fear verges on the phobic and is totally disproportionate to the risk involved, (there was another bloke who was terrified of the Pike in his local reservoir) then either seek a couch and a shrink, or look yourself in the mirror and say, “this is not for me.”

2. Windsurfers barking up the wrong tree. Many walk boldly down one of windsurfing’s exciting avenues, loving the idea of it but without really analysing what it involves. I’ve had people present themselves on wave courses who had a genuine fear of open water. There was one person in particular whose blushes I’ll spare because he/she was quite famous,

My worst windsurfing fear moment happened in 2 foot of water. As I flipped the sail round ready to beachstart, the toggle of the adjustable harness line slid up the ‘V’ of the spreader bar and got wedged. I was thrown face down on the sail completely trapped, unable to move with my nose and mouth under-water. No one came to help because apparently it looked as if I was arsing about.

AUGUST 2012

3. The Mum factor. The scarred adolescent touched on a nerve. They’d be reluctant to admit it but many windsurfers, to perform well, need their Mums (real or figurative) closer than they care to admit. The choice of venue and choosing exactly where to sail at that venue is crucial to mental well-being. Let’s get specific.

Winter sports folk will tell you that the view at the top of a steep slope can be very scary. It’s when you look down and stare at the void that threatens to swallow you up, that you can freeze. The remedy is to stop yourself looking at it. Turn round, look sideways, get someone to stand in front of you, do anything to change or hide the view. I was teaching a guy on the ‘speedy’ at Dahab. As many of you can testify, the flat water and strong wind make it a wonderfully easy place for free-riders and freestylers to train and sail. But, yes, the wind blows straight offshore. Mark was a good windsurfer but on this day was gybing like a numpty with a broom handle rammed up his backside. Back on shore he confessed he was terminally unhappy sailing in offshore winds. He understood that we had rescue cover and that he had plenty of company looking out for him but still he felt an instinctive unease. We sat and talked about it. He wasn’t really afraid of being swept away and had seen that many less proficient than him were coping fine. It turned out to be the view. He didn’t like sailing staring at a cavernous horizon (next stop Somalia). And he especially didn’t like bearing away towards it, which sadly for him, was pretty essential for a gybe. So we moved to the other end of Baby Bay where the reef juts out a bit. Just having land in his sailing vision solved the issue.

The Technique view During a manoeuvre, our eyes get drawn to what scares us. In a forward loop people are afraid of crashing so they stare over the front of the nose at where they’ll stack it – and hence they freeze and crash. Of course turning the head at different stages during different moves is key for technique reasons, but also the change of view can eliminate stress. Looking back in the loop makes you sheet in, which is good, but also it gives you a kind of surreal view of a rotating sky, which is strangely calming. In moves closer to the ground, it’s often

FEAR, CONTROL and the CATAPULT FACTOR

What truly frightens us whether we’re driving a car, riding a horse or windsurfing is sudden loss of control. And there’s no moment when you’re less in control than in mid-catapult. The problem is it happens most frequently early on in the career. It can be traumatic enough to shape your relationship with the sport to the point where your whole stance and approach is about avoiding another one. The cure is to analyse why it’s happening (bad power control) and then isolate and practise the skill that is lacking. And then, for good measure, learn to do them on purpose, well!

The catapult signals total loss of control and is, therefore, by definition frightening and sometimes painful. Sounds strange but one way to understand them and wrestle back that control is to learn to do them on purpose. A deliberate twist and a bottom first landing rarely hurts.

Here a life of catapults has shaped this man’s stance and bearing - hands forward on the boom depowering the rig; front foot, shoulders and hips all turning away from (rather than facing the power) as if to protect his crown jewels from potential contact with the mast. It’s all very defensive and will kill early planing.

The best therapy is to work on controlling power by altering your angle to the wind, not by sheeting in and out. With one hand off the boom it stops you heaving the sail around and makes you drop the hips back. The lesson to those who have a propensity to focus on fear and negative outcomes is clear: DO focus on the elements that will make you do it. DON’T focus on possible misery. It’s the same whether going for a loop or trying to plane.

Putting the ‘Anal’ into Analysis

This one-handed, one-footed, hooked in exercise in a moderate breeze, places you constantly on the edge of a catapult. The more you feel it, the less scary it becomes. the lack of vision that causes the stress. In carve gybes many stare at the sail or mast, so they’re effectively gybing blind and every piece of chop is a surprise. When they learn to drop the rig to the inside to reveal the front of the board, what a difference. They can see the area they’re carving into, anticipate the bumps and make adjustments.

The positive focus About 6 years ago I made a DVD called “We learned to Loop” showing real people attempting to conquer this windsurfing Everest. The ending was Hollywood-esque

If you’re afraid of cannoning into the hardware, the remedy is keep the rig at arm’s length and put yourself in a position, like the matador facing the bull, where you can easily dodge out of the way.

in that despite a cast of mostly burly men, the star of the show was a petite, 40 year old mother of two. Nailing the loop is primarily about conquering fear but what was most interesting about Janine’s journey was that she never let fear into the equation. Her logic was flawless. Doing a loop, she reasoned, was infinitely less painful than half doing one, so she wondered ‘what will make me rotate?’ Bear away, go high and sheet in. And that’s exactly what she did. The three pieces of advice, which scare the crap out of most people, didn’t trouble her because she only saw them as steps to a positive end.

Fear in all the situations discussed so far results basically from losing control. Away from the shore in a big sea, you’re suddenly aware you don’t have the tools to deal with the situation and assume terrified victim status. Closer to shore, you can get the same chill practising a technique. When you surrender control mid-move, that’s when you flip over into adrenalin-fuelled ‘fight or flight’ mode and take instinctive defensive action to survive. Fine. But on the next attempt, you predict the scary moment before it happens, take a pre-emptive defensive measure and hey presto! You’ve given life to a bad habit. Your fear is dictating proceedings. The way to break the cycle of misery is, and this is where a good coach comes in, to identify the moment where the move collapses. See if you have the necessary tools to deal with it, and if not then see if you can practise that skill in isolation. Sounds all a bit glib, so here are three examples involving planing, a gybe and a tack.

www.windsurf.co.uk

Planing and power control

FEAR and the VISUAL CUES (smile!)

Facial expressions reflect your mood. If you’re ‘gurning’ you’re probably terrified. But it’s also been proven that you can change your mood and the way you operate by smiling and making happy sounds. It lifts your mood and makes you less pensive and defensive. Even if it’s nervous laughter, it’s a lot better than crying.

I’ve yet to meet anyone who has conquered harness, straps and planing without suffering a few catapults on the way. There is no time when you’re less in control than in mid catapult, hence the fear is all too real and painful. Catapults breed defensive habits that last a lifetime. So why does it happen? It’s a lack of power control. You’ve been the victim of a sudden and unseen surge of power. You tried to sheet out but it was too little too late. The main fault lies in how you control the power. As you move into stronger winds and get up to planing speeds you control power less by opening and closing the sail and more by altering the board’s angle to the wind. In fact it’s by sheeting in and out violently that you create the power surges that knock you off balance. To get planing smoothly, you want to keep the sail still and then bear away gradually until you find enough power to make you plane. What usually happens in the catapult is that you’ve been unaware of your angle to the wind and born away too suddenly. You open the sail, which pulls you over the centreline and it’s only a short step from there to the dark side. So the remedy is to take it down a notch and in semi-planing, unthreatening conditions, practise sailing with the sail still and control power just by steering up and downwind.

Smile when you sail however uneasy you feel. It costs nothing and it might just help.

THE FEAR of MOVING when SPEEDING

The self-preservation gland tells you that you will surely hurt yourself less if you do any complicated part of a move (and bizarrely even of a planing move) when the board has stopped. Delaying the transition is, in both gybes and tacks, is the best way to blow them. In a tack, the faster the board is moving when you step around, the more buoyant it is. Aural cues are good way to help. Give yourself 3 seconds to do it and jump round as you shout ‘2!’

“ There is no time when you’re less in control than in mid-catapult, hence the fear is all too real and painful” Non Planing, Planing Gybes In gybes it’s the fear of impact at speed with board or rig that brings the distress. Whatever ‘they’ say, speed, at that moment, does not feel like your friend. But here’s the thing – where do most people do most of their sailing? Across the wind. And where does the meat of the gybe happen? From broad reach to broad reach.

The faster the board is moving when you move the feet, the more stable it is – but that goes against your instinct to slow down, delay and play safe.

AUGUST 2012

So help yourself out by getting vocal. Give yourself a countdown and go on 2!

They’re just not used to sailing downwind. Hence many curl up and get defensive the moment they bear away. So if you do nothing but practise sailing poweredup broad to the wind, you will learn to embrace speed, at which point your fear level halves and your gybes double.

BLIND FEAR – open up the view!

We saw how changing the view can ease the fear of where you sail, It’s the same when you’re manoeuvring. The biggest fear is the fear of the unknown and if the rig is in your face and blocking your view, you’re gybing blind and everything is a surprise. The key in all the classic moves, is to get the rig out of the way so you not only make some space but can also see where you’re going.

The nose is on the boom, the mast is in the head and the view ahead dark and hidden. Unable to see and read the water ahead, your actions will be reactive and too late.

The duck gybe has a scary moment. As the rig swings round it obscures the view and leaves you disoriented and worryingly close to the hardware – which in turn persuades you to stand up and stiffen.

The first move in a carving gybe should be to drop the rig to the inside, which not only powers it up but also opens up the view. With a clear path ahead, suddenly the challenge seems a lot less scary.

There’s a clue in the title – ‘duck.’ If your first move is to throw the rig forward and actually duck under the sail, you can see the water to the inside. With no hardware in front of you, life is calm.

THE IMAGINED FEAR – worse than the real thing.

If you have crippling and slightly irrational phobias, then the only cure lies with a shrink. However, on a lesser scale, getting better at windsurfing involves a happy battle with your demons. Conquering fears is what it’s all about, especially as you take it into lumpy seas. Sometimes, with a few ‘what happens if … ‘ measures in place, you just have to leap off the cliff (metaphorically) and see what happens. However disastrous the first attempt, it’s rarely as bad as you feared.

Getting trounced in the very worst place is often a cunning psychological plan.

AUGUST 2012

Especially when the outcome, as is usually the case, wasn’t nearly as bad as you expected!

Tacks Tacks, even fast planing ones on little boards, don’t appear scary. You’re turning upwind so all the time the power is softening and the board slowing down. So why is the most common error caused by delaying and delaying until the board has all but stopped and sunk, before pussy-footing round? Self-preservation warns us it’s foolhardy to move your feet while trying to balance atop a fast moving object. What our dumb instinct doesn’t say is that this particular moving object is a lot more floaty and stable when it’s moving. One remedy is to get military, start counting as you begin a planing tack and jump round after ‘2.’ Vocal triggers are a proven way to allay fear and give a positive focus. So to finish, I leave you with this thought.

The Leap Those who have made the greatest strides, and I suppose I’m taking about Pros, tend to follow the line ‘jump off the cliff and then build wings on the way down.’ The approach seems to contradict the earlier advice about dead adrenaline junkies and well-prepared, anal athletes; however, the trick is to be a bit risky in a controlled sort of way. The worst fear is imagined fear, fear of the unknown. In my humble experience as a coach, I have watched many confront their demons. When, for example, they bite the bullet and head out for the first time in breaking waves; and when, two minutes later, they crawl back up the beach with seaweed in their ears having been royally tumbled and washed back in, the answer to the inevitable “you all right mate?” question is: “yeah, not too bad – it wasn’t nearly as bad as I thought it was going to be!” Now that’s not a carte blanche to go out there and be a total idiot – but you get the idea.

More from our chief technique guru next month. If you like the idea getting Harty one to one, try and get on one of his legendary clinics. Check out the schedule on www.peter-hart.com