The mind’s influence over the athlete is considerable; particularly in a sport as difficult as cycling. A strong mind can push its body well past its limitations and into the realm of the supernatural; forcing the legs to continue giving more despite each of the million muscle fibers screaming in unified agony. You could say the rider is primarily made up of the mind, for when the mind is broken the rider becomes little more than a clumsy organism perched upon a bicycle. (I speak from experience in this last matter.)
Paradoxically, the same mind that holds such control over the body is also woefully fragile and prone to superstitious thought. It fills easily with doubt and is distracted by ancillary details. This is why the tape must always be perfect, the machine silent, the kit spotless: the slightest problem can disrupt the mind as it steels itself for the suffering that is to come. Indeed, the greatest athletes are marked by the heights of their superstitions.
As a matter of fact, even the moderate ones are. At a certain point in my Nordic ski racing career, I determined that there were a particular pair of gloves and lenses that always landed me at the top of the result list. Like most racers, I had gloves for warmer weather and colder weather, and lenes for sunny as well as overcast weather, but this particular combination of mid-weight gloves and dark lenses rendered me in a position of supernatural Nordic Ski Racing Power. The world was mine, so long as weather conditions permitted their use. I told myself that I performed better with those lenses due to some kind of improved optics. I rationalized the glove by determining that I could better grip my poles with that specific weight of glove.
It wasn’t long before I found myself selecting those gloves and lenses before every important event, regardless of the weather conditions. I could be at the height of my powers, with a perfectly executed training plan, yet they became what I used to convince myself I was ready to race. We’ll tell ourselves anything if it helps us muster the courage to face our sport and the agony that comes with the efforts we put forth.
I can only speculate as to the degree to which this must effect the professional athlete as the suffering and dangers they face become a daily reality. Merckx be merciful; I cannot begin to comprehend what they must give to carry out their craft.
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I have no superstitions when it comes to racing but for the number 27. I've crashed wearing that number at least twice, maybe more, but it's been 13 years since I pinned a number on so the memory fades.
I heard Roid Landis had a favourite syringe and flatly refused to race if he had to dope with an "unlucky" one.
I have heard stories of how Kelly would astain from "sexual relations" for up to 6 weeks prior to the Tour de France and, of course, the whole "no shaving the day of a race" thing.
I think I would prefer to NOT miss those relations as opposed to maybe placing one or two spots higher on the GC!
Merckx be merciful.
While I can't really relate to the whole superstition thing, as a pianist I can definitely relate to the whole control over details bit. Before a performance my shoes have to be perfectly shined, the fit of my suit or tuxedo has to be perfect, and god forbid if my tie didn't dimple when i tied it, or is 1/2" to long.
Oh man, and if my shirt cuffs don't extend 1/2" from the jacket sleeve or if my trousers break too much on the shoe? Game over.
Somehow, being in absolute control over certain details makes me believe that performances will go better.
In many ways, getting on stage and performing a solo recital is much like a bike race. For one, I sit on my ass for both a solo recital and for a bike race.
Secondly, they're both games of cause and effect. Being on stage may bring new musical ideas into my head regarding a certain piece, and making the decision to implement these ideas on the fly and then reacting to the following sounds appropriately becomes more instinctual than anything else. In some senses, you begin to react before you even hear the sound.
Not sure where the hell I was going with that. It's 1:30am and I've had a good conversation with my friend Johnnie Walker.
I'm completely free from any ritual or in considering any piece of my kit indispensable (even at the time where racing was a great part of my life).
I don't really feel the devious allure of superstition, even if I live in a country where this activity/habit is very common.
One of my old friends cyclists (google: renzo zanazzi giro 47) when I was young once told me: clean bike, clean socks, clean legs and combed hair. That's it :)
@Buck Rogers
Things have been a bit quiet on the home front lately. Wow. Who'd a thunk I am now only a few weeks from peaking?
I love it - simplicity itself.
Can you imagine what a book compiling all the pro rider superstitions would do to all of us amateurs!? Village hall race HQs up and down the land would be filled with crazy circus-esque routines and pre-race rituals so bizarre it could become it's own sport outright!
I have to sing the theme tune to The Rockford Files between coats of tub glue otherwise I can't go round corners for fear of them rolling off.