Ritual or compulsive behavior

It was race day. The Kayaking Marathon. I packed my green towel and water bottle. “I got this!” I said to myself.

The green cloth and water bottle are must-haves for every race. Whenever I participate in kayaking competitions, I cannot do without these 2 items.

The Kayaking Marathon is an annual event which boast participants from all over the region. The race venue was packed and buzzed with activity. Organizers, officials, coaches, physiotherapists and other staff crossed the narrow paths near the launching area. Throngs of canoeist lift their kayaks on their shoulders, making their way to the launching zones. There, they adjusted their seats, or executed warm up routines for the race. I was an underdog in the race; I had never made it to top five positions. My heart was palpitating so hard that I felt it pounding against my rib cage. My hands were clammy. Perspiration was free flowing down my face.

“Calm down”, I told myself, as I whipped out the green towel from my bag.  Starring at my kayak, I gave it a wipe down with the green cloth from bow to stern.  My eyes were simply focused on it – away from the other competitors. The heavy pounding against my rib cage diminished. Satisfied with the wipe down, I lowered my kayak into the water gently, almost willing it not to raise a ripple. With eyes fixed on the kayak, I gingerly slipped in and adjusted my seat three times before paddling to the start point. My paddle pierced the water, gliding the kayak to the starting point. There, I took eight consecutive sips of cold water. With each sip, I focused on swallowing, mentally following it down my body, as it cooled my overheated nerves and relaxed my muscles.

“You got this!” my brains murmured as I took each of the eight sips.

“Bang!” The blast of the starter’s gun led to turmoil in the water and in the stands. The water was whipped by the frenzy of rotating shoulders driving paddles at great speeds. My kayak, paddles and I were in unison, moving like a well-oiled machine. My focus was on my technique, and the finishing line. The kayak levitated and the paddles sliced the water readily, lifting and propelling the kayak forward. Cranking up my movements a few notches faster, I watched as my kayak sailed across the finish line. Then I heard the spectators and the splashes of the other kayaks.  

I won!

It was amazing!

It was unexpected!

I did it!

An impromptu celebration ensued. I had never beaten any of the top kayakers in the region. This fete was totally unexpected. The question “how did you do that?” reverberated as I slumped on my bed after celebrating the triumphant win. As I starred at my ceiling, I reflected what was different in the race. Wiping down the canoe from bow to stern took me away from the hustles of the competition venue. Taking my eyes away from other competitors and my ears closed off to the chatters at the competition venue helped to arrest my anxiety.  Meticulously adjusting my seat was an exercise that required precision.  It kept me focussed more on my boat and myself. Slow swallowing of eight sips of water further calmed my nerves. It was getting myself mentally ready for the race.  This must be the formula for winning the race.

I followed this ritual for the subsequent races and made to the podium. This had become my racing ritual.

15 June 2022 was yet another race. I overslept and was running late.  I flew out the front the door, ran to the bus stop was I caught sight of the bus making its way to the stop. My mind was preoccupied by the fear that I might be late for the race. Thankfully, I made it to the competition venue on time.

Ready to start my ritual, I dug into my bag for the green towel. Tossing all items out of my bag, the green towel was not to be found. My mind went blank. How could I misplace the green towel.  Feeling loss of what to do next and having some time to spare, my eyes started scanning the competition grounds, my ears listening to nearby conversations among competitors.  I could feel my heart beating faster against my rib cage.  I tried to calm myself down. Not wiping down the kayak would not affect my race. I tried to dismiss my anxiety as I lifted my canoe and nursed it onto the water.  I adjusted my seat three times to attain the precious position. I took eight sips of cold water and visualized my body being cooled. I convinced myself that I was in the same mindset as my previous races. I was all set. However, as the race progressed, I felt my shoulders stiffen, and legs were struggling to move. My calf muscles were tight. The kayak was dragged. At first, I could hear them coming, then I watched the other kayaks whisk pass. Finally, my kayak’s bow nosed the finishing line, in last position.

Defeated, I starred hard at the green cloth that laid on my bed. This green cloth was the missing piece. I was distracted and carried away by the stress and pressure at the competition venue. Anxiety and stress crept inside my body insidiously. It affected my body tone, my mind and ultimately my performance. I realised the ritual I had was crucial. The ritual helped me cope with anxiety and stress before and during the race. It directed my resources and energy to focus on myself rather than on other competitors. Every part of the ritual was equally important.

Since then, I would always ensure that I had my green towel before leaving for the race. In fact, I now have a spare green towels safely kept in my racing backpack. I religiously follow my ritual for every race – wiping my kayak with a green cloth from bow to stern, adjusting my seat three times and having eight sips of water before the race starts. While there were still some ups and downs in subsequent races, the ritual helped me cope with anxiety before the race and sharpened my focus on myself. It is one of my coping mechanism for competitions.  I now understand why some others practice their own rituals. 

Paragraph 1: Elephant Rides