Cole: Fear of other people’s opinions

It was early April 2009 at the USASA National Masters Alpine Snowboard Championships at Copper Mountain. I had taken some time off from racing after a way-out-of-reach, over-the-hill attempt at qualifying for the 2006 Winter Olympics in Torino, Italy, and I hadn’t trained or competed in several years. By default, I was the new guy on the block with no expectations or any real clue who I was racing against or how I might perform. This was a good thing.

Similar to alpine ski racing, the winner of an alpine snowboard race would have the lowest combined time from two separate runs. After the first run, I had the fastest time by almost two seconds (A second is an eternity in ski and snowboard racing — most races being decided by tenths or even hundredths of a second). I was not particularly surprised by my situation. I still had good technique, and it was a bright sunny day with a technical but straightforward course, which played directly to my strengths. And, because of my time off, there was no real pressure from anyone, including myself. 

But then I had to wait for over an hour for the second run to begin, and as the leader after the first run, I would have to wait even longer for all the other competitors to go before I got the chance to slide up to the starting gate. This was not a good thing. 

I sat alone at the top of the course, the guys who had been winning over the past few years talking amongst themselves, wondering who I was and why I had come to upset their party. When I finally was called to the starting gate, my mind was a jumble of questions and doubts: Should I go all-out and try to take the win with another fast time or should I hold back, limiting my risk of crashing or missing a gate, and milk the lead I had from the first run? There were two voices in my head — the louder one focused obsessively on the story I would tell everyone once it was over. It offered two scenarios; one was that, in going for the win, I would crash and not even podium (or finish). The other was, in playing it safe, I would still have the opportunity to win but, at least, would almost be guaranteed a podium spot.

I chose Door No. 2 and knew it was a mistake half way down the course as everything felt fake — not like the flow I had in the first run (which had resulted in the fastest time of the entire day). I knew I had it in me but my fear of what other people would think robbed me of the chance to manifest the result that was clearly within reach: winning the national championship. I ended up in fourth place, off the podium. It was a huge disappointment knowing I was the fastest competitor and should have been on the top step.

What became apparent that day was the story I wanted to tell after the race was more important than the race itself, and it kept me from performing in the way I knew I could. I was more concerned about what other people would think of me (FOPO: fear of other people’s opinions) than I was about being true to myself. Instead of being confident in my achieved level of mastery, I got completely caught up in choosing which scenario would make me look better to everyone else — to crash and not finish or at least make the podium. 

The poster child for the opposite of FOPO would have to be former World Cup ski racer Bode Miller who has earned six Olympic medals, four World Championships, 79 World Cup podiums (33 of them wins), two overall World Cup titles, and six discipline titles. He also has one the highest percentages of DNFs because he is willing to risk it all in order to win. He’s either on the podium or out of the race. There’s no middle ground for him and clearly no worrying about what other people think.

In my quest to be more like Bode, I learned an important lesson in 2009, one I would carry with me the next couple of years both in my racing career (I went on to win in both 2010 and in 2011) and into the rest of my life. I began to understand that my desire to matter needed to be resolved from inside of me, not from the external feedback of others.

I’ve since incorporated much of what sport and performance psychologist Michael Gervais advocates about finding mastery. If I wanted to be my best and perform at my highest level — in sport or anywhere else in my life — I couldn’t let my FOPO hold me back. If I started paying less and less attention to what makes me who I am — my talents, beliefs, and values — and conform to what others may or may not think, I’ll surely harm my potential. I can’t play it safe just because I’m afraid of what will happen on the other side of the critique, fearing ridicule or rejection. 

Unfortunately, FOPO is part of the human condition. The desire to fit in and the paralyzing fear of being disliked, dismissed, or misunderstood markedly undermine our ability to pursue the lives we want to create. We all need to remember that we matter simply by being ourselves and honoring who we are and what we believe and value. Stay tuned for more on FOPO, mattering and flow.

Jeff Cole is a licensed professional counselor, board certified leadership and performance coach, certified meditation instructor and graduate of Naropa’s Contemplative Psychology program. He can be reached at jmcole28@gmail.com.