I haven't read it either, though the topic interests me. I guess personally, I'm not really looking for a way to conquer fear anymore (i.e. force my way through it. ). I know I've had episodes of irrational fears. Getting back to skiing after a knee surgery there was always a phase where I felt like I was made of glass and I couldn't risk falling, but once I got past that first uneventful fall, that would go away. Once I knew the process, it got easier. And I found certain tricks to push myself along.
BUT, to me, the more interesting thing is why I want(ed) to push myself so hard in the first place. Realizing that I'd been through some serious injuries in an effort to feed my ego made me re-evaluate. And now I approach things quite differently. I still do things that get my adrenaline going on occasion, but only if it genuinely looks fun. I try to remove the "should" motivation. That means some days I start on a black run, other days I never leave mellow groomers and I refuse to feel guilty about not pushing myself. I accept that just because I could do it yesterday doesn't mean I can today or tomorrow.
Yeah, that's probably not the fastest way to progress, but I'm not looking for progression at any cost anymore. And I'm a LOT more at peace. And because I'm more relaxed, sometimes I feel like I improve unexpectedly.
This is not a criticism of people who enjoy driving themselves to improve, because I was there for a lot of years. Just an alternative, I guess. I still have some go for it moments, but took away the obligation part. I was as afraid of letting myself/others down or looking bad as of getting hurt. (Probably more! ) Recognizing what I'm actually afraid of gave me the option to address things in isolation. If I'm only afraid of the actual obstacle in from of me, it's easier to make a rational decision about what to do, which could be yes, no, or train some more on a smaller variation and come back to it, or take the easiest line down. Or recognizing that some things don't even look like fun to do, they just look fun for my ego to brag about later. Which is fine, but I make more conscious decisions now and am not afraid to say no.
BUT, to me, the more interesting thing is why I want(ed) to push myself so hard in the first place. Realizing that I'd been through some serious injuries in an effort to feed my ego made me re-evaluate. And now I approach things quite differently. I still do things that get my adrenaline going on occasion, but only if it genuinely looks fun. I try to remove the "should" motivation. That means some days I start on a black run, other days I never leave mellow groomers and I refuse to feel guilty about not pushing myself. I accept that just because I could do it yesterday doesn't mean I can today or tomorrow.
Yeah, that's probably not the fastest way to progress, but I'm not looking for progression at any cost anymore. And I'm a LOT more at peace. And because I'm more relaxed, sometimes I feel like I improve unexpectedly.
This is not a criticism of people who enjoy driving themselves to improve, because I was there for a lot of years. Just an alternative, I guess. I still have some go for it moments, but took away the obligation part. I was as afraid of letting myself/others down or looking bad as of getting hurt. (Probably more! ) Recognizing what I'm actually afraid of gave me the option to address things in isolation. If I'm only afraid of the actual obstacle in from of me, it's easier to make a rational decision about what to do, which could be yes, no, or train some more on a smaller variation and come back to it, or take the easiest line down. Or recognizing that some things don't even look like fun to do, they just look fun for my ego to brag about later. Which is fine, but I make more conscious decisions now and am not afraid to say no.