Although my game face is on point.

I am not a super star roller derby athlete.

The truth is that I hang out somewhere in the middle of my team’s roster of awesomeness. In my league’s last rankings cycle, I was #11.

I’m not the fastest. Or the slowest.

I’m not the hardest hitting. Or a pushover.

I’m not the most wiley veteran. But I’m definitely not a freshie either.

The phrase “The World’s Okayest Skater” might have been coined just for me.

And while there was a time when that might have bothered me; when I would have raged and screamed and cried about not being the best, I’m pretty happy there. And that feeling is a long time coming.

WHAT OTHER PEOPLE THINK

The impetus for writing this at all is because my team is about to play at the Wild West Showdown. It’s a small tournament for teams that are trying to claw their way up the lower-middle ranks of D2s. The games are sanctioned. The rankings matter.

It will be live streamed.

I think.

Which means that skaters that know me only from Iron Octopus Fitness will finally get to see the truth: I am not a super star roller derby athlete.

For a long time, I worried about this.

What will people think when they see that I’m not Bonnie Thunders in a significantly taller, slightly fluffier body?

What would people say if they knew that my apex jumps succeed only on occasion?

Would anyone care what I had to say about training or roller derby if they knew The Truth?

WHOA. That’s a hell of story that I’m telling myself, right?

The real truth, irrespective of the fact that I’m just okay at roller derby, is that it doesn’t really matter what other people think about me when I play. I don’t play for them.

Letting your worries about what other people will think keep you from doing something you love to do — whether you’re amazing at or just a beginner — DOESN’T SERVE YOU.

Imagine me, going into the biggest tournament of my team’s season solely focused on what other people will think about my performance. Imagine that, instead of focusing on my wall’s game plan, I’m worried about whether the cameras just caught footage of my most recent fall. Imagine that any mistake I make on the track — and I will definitely make mistakes — is amplified by the fact that it happened in front of other people.

That’s a lot of additional pressure to handle, isn’t it?

THE STORY YOU TELL YOURSELF

Building mental toughness in volatile game situations is a lot easier if you break down the stories you’re telling yourself first.

After all, imagine that the story you’re telling yourself — a story that soaks up a large percentage of your mental energy — is completely false. Or at least wildly off-base.

The first step is awareness.

You have to be aware and awake to the story that you’re telling yourself about how things will go.

It took a surprisingly long time for me to realize that I was worried that other people (skaters that might want to work with me someday) would think that I suck at roller derby. That single thought, that tiny story, was hidden under a lot of meaningless outbursts during games and mental beratement for not nailing a certain skill immediately.

The story I tell myself is that other people think I suck at roller derby.

The second step is to deconstruct your story.

Have you ever heard of the acronym T.H.I.N.K.?

I came across it in my years as a teacher. It was a tool that helped keep kids from blurting out the oft-times cruel and useless things they say. It became a well-known phrase around my school. You could say it to a kid when you could see they were struggling with something.

T.H.I.N.K. before you speak.

Is it true? Helpful? Inspiring? Necessary? Kind?

Wouldn’t it be fantastic if the story that you told yourself was all of those things?

Is it true that other people think I suck at roller derby? Maybe. But probably not, most people aren’t focused on ME when I play. They’re watching the entire game, the dynamic, the strategy, the awesomeness that is this sport.

In the long run, most people are more caught up with themselves than with you. Or me. Or our collective roller skating ability.

Is it helpful to believe that other people think I suck at roller derby? Definitely not. You can probably imagine just what kind of downward spirals that thought could spawn.

And so on and so on.

Even if the story that I tell myself is true and there truly are A LOT of people out there focusing solely on the fact that I’m not a roller derby superstar, that doesn’t mean I have to listen to that story. That doesn’t mean I have to let it impact me. That doesn’t me I have to live it.

The third step is writing your new story.

When you’re aware that you have unhelpful stories playing in your head and you know those stories aren’t serving you, it’s time to write a new one.

I like to call these #ducttapemantras. Instead of letting your brain leak unhealthy thoughts like a sieve, slap a duct tape mantra on it.

Take that shitty thought that makes you second guess yourself and replace it with a new one that’s more helpful. Duct tape mantras don’t have to be flowers and sunshine and glitter, but they should redirect your mopey, sad sack, pouty slump into something more positive and useful.

My personal favorite #ducttapemantra is “I’ll never give up.” Seriously, I use it like Frank’s Red Hot.

It’s a little “fake it ’til you make it” and a little “be it ’til you see it”, but stopping those unhelpful, subversive thoughts will strengthen your mental toughness.