How to Stop Second-Guessing Yourself

I sat in the toasty warm car at the start of Tunnel Hill 100, watching runners and crew pass back and forth in front of me in the frigid cold between their own warm cars and race check-in.

As they passed, I dissected what each was wearing.

Pants or shorts? T-shirt, long-sleeve t-shirt, fleece, vest? Hat?

Was this a runner? If so, were they going to shed that puffy jacket before the start, or not? 

My mind started judging which layers seemed most popular.

“I might need to adjust mine,” I thought.

And this after I carefully - based on decades of ultra experience and a lifetime of perfecting my detailed layering preferences - selected my race outfit. 

This is how second-guessing happens.

And it happens a lot. I hear it in coaching at least once a week.

You do it to avoid making a decision that might not be right, because you’ll regret it, look foolish, or fail.  

And if that’s not bad enough, you’ll criticize yourself for it after the fact.

Runners mention second-guessing in passing like it’s not worth coaching on, just an annoying but otherwise harmless habit they wish they could quit, but here’s a short list of what it might actually be costing you:

• Time and energy spent continually questioning your actions and decisions instead of moving forward.

• Experience you could gain from giving a decision a fair chance to work before changing it

• Trusting yourself to make good decisions, something you’ll need in a race.

• Practice sticking with your decisions, which comes in tremendously handy in the low points of a race when you’re tempted to drop

If second-guessing is a habit, it’s one worth breaking.

Start by deciding to stop. It seems obvious but makes a difference to stop allowing yourself to indulge in it. 

If you have trouble with this, tally up what it’s costing you.

Next, question the idea there’s a right answer and you won’t succeed without it. 

I could have worn twenty different outfits for Tunnel Hill and finished just fine. There was no one, right choice.

Then, make a decision - which race to run, how to train, your race goals, whatever. Make it the way you want to make it, based on the options and the facts you know right now. 

No polling others for their opinions or endless research to identify all the options. A decision only takes a moment.

I wasn’t going to change clothes at Tunnel Hill because a bunch of strangers chose differently. I’d made my decision and it was entirely likely my layering would work.

And here’s the challenging part - commit to your decision. Give it time to work and a full, good-faith effort while you resist the urge to change it.

Then only change it when you have new facts that clearly point to an improved decision.

For example, plunging out of the car into the cold morning air to get to the starting line was a shock, but I wasn’t going to add an extra layer. I trusted my choice. I could always add a layer out of a drop bag later if I really needed to.

Don’t let this habit cost you.

Email me about help stopping this and any other habits holding you back.

It’s time to shake free of them and see what you’re capable of.