Sunday, June 24, 2012

Out of the Blue

I hate to lose. No one aspires to not win, but still, I hate it. And I'm talking about achieving victory in a competition not decided by chance: First place by virtue of defeating the other contenders with a combination of skill, talent and will, within the rules set out for that particular event. 

When my skill, talent and will aren't enough to win, I feel wholly defeated. It's a painful experience. Losing threatens your personhood. You want to have confirmation that your best effort is enough to achieve your goals; however winning never forced anyone to question whether that was in fact their best effort...

Winning or losing in swimming is simple. First place is awarded for finishing with the fastest time. Period dot. There are no style points, no judges' scores, no foul lines to debate - numbers are black and white. Each race has many parts that can go well or poorly - fast, streamlined start but a foot slipped on the turn - but all you have at the end is a number, your time.

The question then is always the same: Was your number higher or lower than everyone else? And I hate when my number's higher; I hate to lose, but I also know it is OK to lose. Someone always has to lose for there to be a winner. And when we lose, we're more driven to improve than when we win. We should always be striving to improve, ergo losing is OK.

At this point, it might sound like I'm contradicting myself, saying I hate to lose but also think losing is alright, helpful even. Well, I'm not particularly fond of paying taxes either, but I know at least at some level I benefit from them. Perhaps the term 'necessary evil' is appropriate. It tempers the hate.

How, then, do you teach the positive side of losing to 5- to 18-year-olds in an American culture that's more competitive than ever. I have swimmers training in multiple sports, simultaneously, and if you're not making the top squad, participating in the best camps, making it to the highest level of competition (forget just focusing on one sport or extra-curricular activity!), then you've simply been left behind by the Joneses. These kids don't take losing lightly. They fear getting left behind.

Fortunately, there are other victories in swimming besides your race place, namely, the 'best time'. Finish the race second but finish with a personal-best time, and you're presented with cold, hard evidence of exerting your overall best effort. I don't necessarily believe in 'moral victory', but a best time at least provides positive fuel to the motivation fire that losing sparks. At least you're a black-and-white step closer to achieving that goal of winning.

My team lost its dual meet yesterday. And not by just a few points. Perhaps harder than losing yourself is watching people you care about lose. You can't flush the loss for them. But on the day, we had over 70 personal-best times. That's a lot of peak effort, and a lot of motivation to go back to work with on Monday.
  

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