When I started writing articles for Slowtwitch last year, I was asked to share the highs and lows of sport. Well, last spring I went through a pretty big low, and while I’m sure there’s athletes with worse stories than mine, I struggled, and in a way that I wouldn’t have foreseen. I’d piled on so much pressure that my mental health caved with anxiety. I became terrified to race. Initially, I couldn’t talk about it and was honestly pretty embarrassed. In the time since, I’ve done tons of work and come to learn that struggling with nerves and anxiety is far more common than I thought. Hearing other athletes share similar experiences helped me to realize that it was something I could manage and I wasn’t just defective. So, I figured I’d put my own story out there and just maybe it will help someone else down the line.
It was Tuesday morning, two weeks out from my first race of 2022 at WTCS Yokohama. I wasn’t feeling well and couldn’t eat breakfast. Not sure what was wrong, I went to the pool anyway for my standard hard Tuesday morning swim. I’d taken Monday completely off training, which is very rare, and the whole day I hadn’t felt right. I’d tried to ignore it, hoping it was all in my head. I was still trying to ignore it as I got in the pool Tuesday morning. I did my easy warming up then started some pick-ups. I immediately felt like I was going to throw up. I stopped at the wall. My boyfriend was at the pool with me that day and came over to see why I’d stopped. I told him I was going to throw up. Fast forward a couple minutes of me sitting there in the water and saying that I wasn’t going to throw up but also maybe I was and that I didn’t think I was sick but maybe I was sick, and he told me that he was pretty certain I was having a panic attack. Strange enough, that hadn’t even crossed my mind. I didn’t think I was a person who has panic attacks. Once he said it however, it all made sense. It didn’t make it better though.
I didn’t finish my swim that day. In truth, I didn’t do much training at all that entire last week before flying to Japan. The thing about panic and anxiety is when it sets in, it really sets in. Just getting out of bed, standing long enough to take a shower without becoming nauseous, and sipping bland soup were wins. Getting myself out for short and easy swims, bikes, and runs was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.
One day I went to urgent care. I wanted medicine, anything that would just make me feel ok again. I wasn’t given medicine, but I got seriously lucky with what I did get. I had just so happened into the room with a doctor who used to play professional sports (soccer, I think). After explaining that she really couldn’t do anything for me as a doctor, she told me her own personal story. She had been overseas playing and hit a point where the pressure and anxiety had set in and she could no longer eat food. She said that just looking at food would make her sick. I felt better hearing this, realizing I wasn’t the only one. But then she told me that the only way she got through it was to completely leave the sport for multiple weeks. I didn’t have or want to make that kind of time.
A few days passed and all I could think about was having to sit on a plane to Japan. I didn’t think I could do it. I was absolutely certain that I couldn’t make it through the flight, let alone race week or the race itself. I had to tell someone. So, I told my boyfriend that he needed to contact our team staff and tell them I couldn’t go. Again, I got really lucky. We have some awesome staff at USAT who reached out to me and told me that I didn’t have to go, they understood, and it wouldn’t be an issue. They also got me in touch with a sports psychologist who tried her very best to prove to me that flying to Japan and doing a race wouldn’t necessarily play out with all the worst case scenarios I was envisioning at the time.
It took time, but once I started to internalize that some of the pressure and fear I felt was being exacerbated in my head, I slowly switched to the offensive. Suddenly I was having moments of telling myself that I wanted to find a way through this and do the race. As terrible as I felt, I also knew deep down that if I just skipped this one, the anxiety would only get worse ahead of the next one. In the end I went to the race. It wasn’t all perfect, but, like the psychologist had tried to tell me, it was far from the purely miserable experience I had been so certain would play out. I actually relaxed a ton once I got to Japan. Somehow I even had a decent race, finishing 15th in a WTCS despite everything.
I flew back to the U.S. hoping that was that. I’d had a good race and wanted that to mean case closed, I’m good to go. Sadly, it wasn’t so simple. I continued to do what I could, I had meetings with a psychologist, and a lot of bad days at first. Some days I struggled to train, other days I struggled to eat. But with work, I gradually felt better and better as the year wore on. Of course there were slumps, but that’s life.
If this story finds someone else struggling, know that you are definitely not the only one. As I’ve opened up to other athletes, it’s been shocking at times to hear similar experiences shared back with me. Also, I don’t want this story to come across as negative. It’s totally possible to get to a place of enjoying sport. It’s hard for sure, but I’m slowly learning to let the nerves be just one part that exists alongside all the amazing parts of sport that we love. Everyone has their own reason why they started training and why they initially chose for sport to be a part of their life. With time, I remembered that I love movement and I love living with the high speeds and risks of competition. Whatever your reasons are, just make sure to hold onto them.
Editor's Note: If you or a loved one is struggling with your mental health, understand you are not alone and have resources available to you. In the United States, you may find immediate resources available at MentalHealth.gov.
