It’s the Monday of race week! But with an unfortunate twist…

I’d planned for this post to be an honest appraisal of how I was mentally preparing myself for the Arc of Attrition 100 mile race, starting this Friday down on the Cornish coast. But unfortunately life has other plans for me this year (see my last post), so in a textbook display of resilience I’m adapting on the fly!

What follows is an honest reflection on how I view toughness, and how I deal with pre-event self-doubt. Hope it proves useful.

The Arc of Attrition: beautiful, and savage

The quality of ‘toughness’

I could write 10,000 words attempting to define mental resilience and still not scratch the surface. Whatever I write will pale in comparison to the excellent ‘Do Hard Things’ by Steve Magness, so I suggest you start there for the comprehensive definition.

Instead, I’ll use a simple analogy: toughness is nothing more than the nuts that a squirrel scavenges and stores, ready for a long, hard winter.

The squirrel isn’t born with an endless supply of nuts. For this analogy he starts at zero, and has the same capacity as any other squirrel to build his store of nuts.

He does so by making thousands of small decisions throughout the year. Does he do the difficult right thing, and go searching while the sun shines? Or does he do the easy wrong thing, and bathe in the midday heat instead?

If he relies on motivation, he’ll go hungry: motivation is fickle. He needs discipline to keep making those small, difficult decisions to build his store, regardless of how much he wants to do something else.

His ability to stay well fed over the winter has nothing to do with how successful he’s been in past years. A bumper collection last winter might give him confidence, but all that matters is what he does in this moment to continue collecting nuts.

Equally, he can’t store nuts indefinitely. It’s a constant process to keep his stores topped up; nuts will perish over time and certainly won’t last from one winter to the next.

From squirrel to human

How does this mildly ridiculous analogy work for ambitious athletes embarking on hard challenges?

How you do something is how you do everything

Toughness is nothing more than continuously making those small, difficult decisions that move you towards the person you want to be. Build rock-solid habits without excuse or exception. Swap doom scrolling for professional development; do the ice bath outside at 6am in January; push out that extra rep. It all counts.

Don’t rely on motivation

Every single tough decision you make in life helps you remain disciplined when motivation has failed you, usually in the midst of your most challenging moment - because motivation absolutely will fail you at some point, no matter how strong your ‘why’ might be.

Bank little wins

Trying to build your mental resilience by ‘proving yourself’ on some big grand scale is a recipe for disaster. Start small, build self-belief, and keep growing.

Continuously top up your supply

I’ve come back from the metaphorical dead on numerous occasions in ultra-distance events. I’ve remained lucid and motivated in situations when I genuinely didn’t think I’d live to see my family again during my first tour of Afghanistan (and a careless solo hike in the Alps). Yet if I go six months without testing myself, I begin to doubt whether or not I’m the same person I once was. That mental muscle needs to be exercised regularly, or it will shrink rapidly.

We all start from zero

Nobody is ‘born tough’. We all have the same capacity for enduring hardship; it just takes time and effort. This is a beautiful realisation, because we’re all capable of incredible things regardless of our physical limitations.

“Am I really tough enough to do this?”

If you start to doubt your mental resilience in the lead up to a difficult event, sending your self-confidence into a downward spiral, remember this above all else:

Thinking this thought doesn’t make you weak.

I’ve worked and trained alongside some phenomenally tough individuals in both the military and sporting world: Special Forces operators, national champions, podium finishers at gruelling ultramarathons, and accomplished mountaineers to name just a few. Every single one of them, when pressed on the topic, has admitted some degree of self-doubt or imposter syndrome ahead of a big test.

The brain in ‘protect’ mode

I also have lived experience of this sudden change in my internal narrative. When training is going well, my baseline self-assessment is that I’m one of the most resilient people out there. Yet somehow, in the days and hours leading up to a high-pressure event like a fighting patrol in Afghanistan or a long mountainous ultra, a switch flicks in my brain. My internal narrative is filled with:

“I can’t be arsed”

“I don’t really want this”

“I’m not made of the right stuff”

“Remember that race I DNF’d with an ‘injury’ back in 2011? Let’s be honest, I just quit because it was hard”

“It’s safer for everyone if I feign an injury ahead of this patrol. The Platoon Sergeant is more than qualified to lead this one” (note that I’d never dream of acting on this voice! But it’s been there nonetheless)

What’s happening? Have I suddenly turned weak?

Of course not. This self-doubt is nothing more than my brain’s natural defence mechanism against an impending trip into the pain cave.

Even in its natural state, the subconscious mind is constantly scanning for danger as a background activity. Ahead of a big scary test there is no shortage of danger on the horizon (real or perceived), so you begin to be served up any number of uncomfortable thoughts to keep you safe on your sofa. if you’ve resisted this urge, the body’s final attempt at keeping you alive is to switch from ‘fight’ or ‘flight’ mode into ‘freeze’: your limbs will become heavy and you’ll feel an overwhelming urge to sleep or rest, despite being minutes or seconds away from ‘go time’.

Believe it or not, I’ve never felt more fatigued or less motivated than the moment before fixing bayonets and launching a strike op in Musa Qaleh back in 2006; I didn’t understand what was wrong with me at the time, but I’ve now become accustomed to the same feelings at the start line of big races.

All of these thought patterns and bodily responses are a natural subconscious attempt to protect you from hardship. Accept them for what they are: your mind trying to be kind to you. Don’t fight kindness with aggression. Don’t belittle yourself. Thank your brain for looking out for you, and turn towards the challenge.

Musa Qaleh, 2006: me in the centre, on the day my body tried to keep me safe

Parting ‘thought’

A theme I always come back to when coaching athletes is one of curious detachment from thoughts and feelings, especially when they aren’t helping us live a meaningful life. Whatever you may think about your mental resilience (or lack thereof), remember:

They’re only thoughts
You have total control over how and when you engage with them
You’re capable of infinitely more than you realise

Happy Monday, and good luck to everyone racing the Arc now or in the future.

Mental toughness: how to build and maintain it