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Competition
Feb. 5th, 2013 12:34 pmIn my early teen years, 3 of 5 got me into Windsurfing. Heck, it was the early 80’s, and that was one of the big fads of the time along with New Wave music, Members-Only Jackets, and Michael Jackson when he was still black.
To say that I was an awkward teen would be a vast understatement. You think I’m an oddball now? You shoulda seen me then! I really didn’t know how to relate to people my own age. I was mostly used to people older than myself. So the whole windsurfing crew, who were all in their 20’s to 30’s were just perfect. And as “the fat nervous kid” who really didn’t like doing anything but eating and watching television, it was a much-needed activity to get me some fresh-air, sunlight, and interaction with other people. Heck, my family practically forced me to get out, lighten up, and drink beer - if for no other reason than to loosen me up a bit. Gods only know that at that time, I was so uptight that anything at all to give me some sense of calm was a welcome thing!
I don’t know if my parents really knew what to do with me. After four girls who were all tomboys and athletes, I was not normal. Having never ever been good at any type of sport, I didn’t exactly embrace windsurfing at first. But once I actually learned how to do it, I learned that it gave me a sense of calm. After all, I could take off from the beach and just be by myself. There was nothing but the spray of ocean-salt, sunlight, fresh air, and the sound of the waves. Also, on an occassional basis, I would look down in the water and see a playful dolphin who decided to race alongside of me. Such memories are really pretty cool! For me, windsurfing was a wonderful escape. It was something the beachgoers all had in common, but it was really more of a method of transportation to me. I could transport to a place of calm and quiet, and also to the island across the way to go looking for shells and also enjoy the alone time.
Like with all sports, Windsurfing also had its own form of competition. As the sport grew in popularity, we began to form fleets and to also have competitive races. My sister was all over that concept, as were the other people on the beach. It was all about doing triangle-races to develop better and faster sailing techniques. But I wasn’t really interested in that. Sailing was, in my opinion, supposed to be fun and about transportation – not one-upmanship. But like with most things, I got swept along. After all, I was just the fat 13 year old uptight kid. I didn’t really get a say in things.
Over time, the group mentality turned more and more into competition. And one weekend, a bunch of us headed down to Port Charlotte to enter into a race. Having never raced before, I was automatically put into “B Fleet”. B fleet was the category for less-experienced racers. B fleet had a simpler course, and registered into different categories – gender, weight, etc. I was sooooo nervous! There were so many people! I didn’t know most of them, and many of them seemed very gruff to me. They were serious about their sport, and had attitude a mile wide. I of course knew plenty of people from my home causeway beach, but it was like everyone had blinders on. This weekend wasn’t about socializing or having fun. Fun would come later. Right now, it was all about the Race!
My stomach was in knots! I was in a strange place. I had never been to this beach before. I didn’t know most of these people. And in a lot of ways, I really didn’t feel like I had a handle on what was going on. Remember – even under the best of circumstances, sailing of any kind had a sense of danger. And those fears stuck in the back of my head. What if the wind suddenly picks up and it is too much for me to handle? What if I lose track of my home-point on the beach and get lost? What if I spot a dorsal fin and it is NOT a dolphin? My sister and friends were all excited. Me? I felt like I was going to throw up!
Once we got out to the water, we found ourselves in this period of hurry-up-n’-wait. Since windsurfers don’t have anchors, we all just dropped our sails, and sat on our boards in a mass, floating along. Again, the nervousness set in. I didn’t know how things should start. I didn’t know how I’d get out of the massive fuster-cluck of other boards. What if I feel off my board? Would someone else run me over? The anxiety was building up so much that I really was ready to break into a crying tear-burst. My heart was pounding. And I felt so puny. The people around me were SERIOUS! They all wanted to WIN! As for me, I just wanted to be out of there.
The A-fleeters all approached the starting line, and as the horn blared, they took off! “Oh my god!” I thought. “That means we’re next!” But I sucked it up. I was scared to death. And I didn’t know what to even do about it, other than just get through it. And that is what I did. As the horn blared for us, I felt dizzy. But I put my concentration into holding onto my sail and just trying not to ram into anybody. It was very windy that day, and it took all of my strength just to hang on for dear life. More than anything, I was afraid of falling in and getting run over. But I did it! I placed horribly, but I got through the race.
By the time the entire race was over, I felt sick. Maybe it was too much sun? Heck no. It was pure anxiety. I had been hyperventilating and trying to do everything in my powerless state to keep from freaking out. But it was over! Things couldn’t get worse – could they? Oh… but they did.
The event culminated in the awards ceremony. Low and behold, everybody from my home beach who raced had placed – including my sister. Everybody but me, that is. Once again – I was the loser. The lone guy out. The useless slug. The last guy picked to be on any team. The fat, ugly, unwanted, uncoordinated, disappointment!!!!!!!!!!
The causeway crew all went out for a victory dinner. I was in hell! I wanted so much to skip it. I think I even begged and pleaded with my mom for us to skip it, but that was out of the question. She wanted to hang out with the crew and have a good time. She had no idea just how miserable and depressed I was. Then again, maybe she did. She ordered a beer and gave it to me. And when someone decided to raise a toast to all of the victors of our fleet, I sucked that thing down and begged for more! I think, if I remember correctly, that was my first actual drunk memory.
Racing slowly became an important background goal for many of us in the fleet. Over the next year, my sister and others pushed me to work on racing skills. Again, I didn’t like it nor did I want to do it. I was really much more interested in the sense-of-serenity that sailing could bring. But again, I really didn’t have a say. I was the lone kid in an adult world. But by the next year, I was much better prepared. While all of my causeway friends had been moved up to A-fleet because they had placed, I was still in B fleet. I didn’t mind that. I was still the youngest person in the fleet. And low and behold, when it came race time, I knew the area and what would happen, and no longer had such fear. So when the horn blared, my stomach churned still, but I focused on what needed to be done. Only this time, when all was said and done, I left all my competition in the salt-spray.
When the awards ceremony came, low and behold – I placed way ahead of everybody. So much so that I could have skipped the last course and still come out on top. Yet, when they called my name to come forward and collect my trophy, I just didn’t feel like there was a victory. Yes, I came in first. Yes, I got a trophy. Um… and? What did that really mean? It meant that I sailed in a triangle faster than the others in my weight class. Compared to the horrific experience that I felt the previous year, this victory simply did not make up for it. I didn’t get it, and I still don’t. Sailing, for me, was about relaxing – going at my own pace and my own speed – enjoying nature and the quiet. Why turn it into a way to artificially be “Better” than somebody else? Better at what?
I guess in some ways, that whole experience was an educational opportunity for me. Despite being an unpleasant experience, it did teach me my own perspective of competition. In my adult life, I’ve had people tell me that I am an extremely competitive person. I don’t know if I’m qualified to say if I am or not. But I do think it would be ironic if that is indeed how I have turned out. To me, a competition isn’t about being “Better than” someone else at something fake. It should be about driving oneself to score, or achieve, or build, or learn or enjoy.
To me, racing a triangle course with a bunch of other hungry-athletes is not the goal. What is? To glide along the water along-side of a playful dolphin. No trophy in the world can compare to that!
To say that I was an awkward teen would be a vast understatement. You think I’m an oddball now? You shoulda seen me then! I really didn’t know how to relate to people my own age. I was mostly used to people older than myself. So the whole windsurfing crew, who were all in their 20’s to 30’s were just perfect. And as “the fat nervous kid” who really didn’t like doing anything but eating and watching television, it was a much-needed activity to get me some fresh-air, sunlight, and interaction with other people. Heck, my family practically forced me to get out, lighten up, and drink beer - if for no other reason than to loosen me up a bit. Gods only know that at that time, I was so uptight that anything at all to give me some sense of calm was a welcome thing!
I don’t know if my parents really knew what to do with me. After four girls who were all tomboys and athletes, I was not normal. Having never ever been good at any type of sport, I didn’t exactly embrace windsurfing at first. But once I actually learned how to do it, I learned that it gave me a sense of calm. After all, I could take off from the beach and just be by myself. There was nothing but the spray of ocean-salt, sunlight, fresh air, and the sound of the waves. Also, on an occassional basis, I would look down in the water and see a playful dolphin who decided to race alongside of me. Such memories are really pretty cool! For me, windsurfing was a wonderful escape. It was something the beachgoers all had in common, but it was really more of a method of transportation to me. I could transport to a place of calm and quiet, and also to the island across the way to go looking for shells and also enjoy the alone time.
Like with all sports, Windsurfing also had its own form of competition. As the sport grew in popularity, we began to form fleets and to also have competitive races. My sister was all over that concept, as were the other people on the beach. It was all about doing triangle-races to develop better and faster sailing techniques. But I wasn’t really interested in that. Sailing was, in my opinion, supposed to be fun and about transportation – not one-upmanship. But like with most things, I got swept along. After all, I was just the fat 13 year old uptight kid. I didn’t really get a say in things.
Over time, the group mentality turned more and more into competition. And one weekend, a bunch of us headed down to Port Charlotte to enter into a race. Having never raced before, I was automatically put into “B Fleet”. B fleet was the category for less-experienced racers. B fleet had a simpler course, and registered into different categories – gender, weight, etc. I was sooooo nervous! There were so many people! I didn’t know most of them, and many of them seemed very gruff to me. They were serious about their sport, and had attitude a mile wide. I of course knew plenty of people from my home causeway beach, but it was like everyone had blinders on. This weekend wasn’t about socializing or having fun. Fun would come later. Right now, it was all about the Race!
My stomach was in knots! I was in a strange place. I had never been to this beach before. I didn’t know most of these people. And in a lot of ways, I really didn’t feel like I had a handle on what was going on. Remember – even under the best of circumstances, sailing of any kind had a sense of danger. And those fears stuck in the back of my head. What if the wind suddenly picks up and it is too much for me to handle? What if I lose track of my home-point on the beach and get lost? What if I spot a dorsal fin and it is NOT a dolphin? My sister and friends were all excited. Me? I felt like I was going to throw up!
Once we got out to the water, we found ourselves in this period of hurry-up-n’-wait. Since windsurfers don’t have anchors, we all just dropped our sails, and sat on our boards in a mass, floating along. Again, the nervousness set in. I didn’t know how things should start. I didn’t know how I’d get out of the massive fuster-cluck of other boards. What if I feel off my board? Would someone else run me over? The anxiety was building up so much that I really was ready to break into a crying tear-burst. My heart was pounding. And I felt so puny. The people around me were SERIOUS! They all wanted to WIN! As for me, I just wanted to be out of there.
The A-fleeters all approached the starting line, and as the horn blared, they took off! “Oh my god!” I thought. “That means we’re next!” But I sucked it up. I was scared to death. And I didn’t know what to even do about it, other than just get through it. And that is what I did. As the horn blared for us, I felt dizzy. But I put my concentration into holding onto my sail and just trying not to ram into anybody. It was very windy that day, and it took all of my strength just to hang on for dear life. More than anything, I was afraid of falling in and getting run over. But I did it! I placed horribly, but I got through the race.
By the time the entire race was over, I felt sick. Maybe it was too much sun? Heck no. It was pure anxiety. I had been hyperventilating and trying to do everything in my powerless state to keep from freaking out. But it was over! Things couldn’t get worse – could they? Oh… but they did.
The event culminated in the awards ceremony. Low and behold, everybody from my home beach who raced had placed – including my sister. Everybody but me, that is. Once again – I was the loser. The lone guy out. The useless slug. The last guy picked to be on any team. The fat, ugly, unwanted, uncoordinated, disappointment!!!!!!!!!!
The causeway crew all went out for a victory dinner. I was in hell! I wanted so much to skip it. I think I even begged and pleaded with my mom for us to skip it, but that was out of the question. She wanted to hang out with the crew and have a good time. She had no idea just how miserable and depressed I was. Then again, maybe she did. She ordered a beer and gave it to me. And when someone decided to raise a toast to all of the victors of our fleet, I sucked that thing down and begged for more! I think, if I remember correctly, that was my first actual drunk memory.
Racing slowly became an important background goal for many of us in the fleet. Over the next year, my sister and others pushed me to work on racing skills. Again, I didn’t like it nor did I want to do it. I was really much more interested in the sense-of-serenity that sailing could bring. But again, I really didn’t have a say. I was the lone kid in an adult world. But by the next year, I was much better prepared. While all of my causeway friends had been moved up to A-fleet because they had placed, I was still in B fleet. I didn’t mind that. I was still the youngest person in the fleet. And low and behold, when it came race time, I knew the area and what would happen, and no longer had such fear. So when the horn blared, my stomach churned still, but I focused on what needed to be done. Only this time, when all was said and done, I left all my competition in the salt-spray.
When the awards ceremony came, low and behold – I placed way ahead of everybody. So much so that I could have skipped the last course and still come out on top. Yet, when they called my name to come forward and collect my trophy, I just didn’t feel like there was a victory. Yes, I came in first. Yes, I got a trophy. Um… and? What did that really mean? It meant that I sailed in a triangle faster than the others in my weight class. Compared to the horrific experience that I felt the previous year, this victory simply did not make up for it. I didn’t get it, and I still don’t. Sailing, for me, was about relaxing – going at my own pace and my own speed – enjoying nature and the quiet. Why turn it into a way to artificially be “Better” than somebody else? Better at what?
I guess in some ways, that whole experience was an educational opportunity for me. Despite being an unpleasant experience, it did teach me my own perspective of competition. In my adult life, I’ve had people tell me that I am an extremely competitive person. I don’t know if I’m qualified to say if I am or not. But I do think it would be ironic if that is indeed how I have turned out. To me, a competition isn’t about being “Better than” someone else at something fake. It should be about driving oneself to score, or achieve, or build, or learn or enjoy.
To me, racing a triangle course with a bunch of other hungry-athletes is not the goal. What is? To glide along the water along-side of a playful dolphin. No trophy in the world can compare to that!
