FOMO

Fear Of Missed Opportunities

World Cup II, 2022

Sitting cross-legged, hands intertwined, I breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth in true meditative fashion.

“Now find a person or a moment that makes you feel joy and take a moment to feel where in your body that emotion manifests.”

It’s the classic introduction to my sport psychology sessions. I feel that spark of excitement originating from my gut that warms the rest of my body. Unlike usual, though, that warmth suddenly gets pulled upwards into my chest, tightening around my heart and signalling a strong dread that I can’t overcome with my ‘happy place’. The silence breaks with a few sniffles that escalate into tears, followed by some awkward laughing as an unconvincing attempt to pretend I wasn’t experiencing a random breakdown in front of my therapist. She definitely noticed.

For the first time in a non-Olympic year, I didn’t make the World Cup Team.

And I’ve been handling the disappointment suspiciously well until this exact moment. But emotions have a way of surfacing in the moments when you think you’ve escaped them, like holding a beach ball under water only to inevitably smack you in the face the minute you let go.

This post is about confronting the disappointment, discouragement, and mild humiliation of caring about something for it to publicly not work out. More broadly, I hope this helps contextualize the dips in our expectations by recognizing them as unexpected detours, rather than the end of the road.

The Trials

Like many selection periods, our World Cup Trials kicked off with a 2km erg test. The 2k is both rewarding and intimidating for the same reasons. With most factors controlled for, it asks honestly, what are you capable of?

My lead up to the test could be described generously as suboptimal. I’d be remiss not to acknowledge the influence of performance outcomes on my personal confidence. On one hand, I was excited by personal bests on my max 1-minute test and hitting a peak power of 829 watts. Fantastic fuel to my ego, however, less helpful in a 2k after the first 250 meters.

On the other hand, what dimmed my enthusiasm was persistent fatigue and declining results in 2k prep workouts, rather than the incremental improvements I’d ideally hoped for.

Confidence in this context is a difficult skill to master. Athletes need a stable and secure mindset to back themselves despite contrary evidence. An inner monologue that doesn’t try to convince you you’ll be ok anyway, but one that’s so convicted it rejects doubt in any form.

Turns out, this mindset can make a crucial difference in a 2k.

The 2km Erg Test

The actual mental experience of the 2k is a story for another post, but at this time, just know it was not my best test. Specifically, 8 seconds slower than my best test. In rowing, this would not even be equivalent to the same boat class.

I woke up on test day feeling overwhelming dread rather than anticipation to showcase the work I had put in over the winter. I followed the classic procedure for this type of situation, some encouraging self talk:

“This feeling is just confused excitement.”

“You love racing.”

“All the hard work is done.”

“What a privilege it is to see what my body can do.”

All technically true, but none of the words seemed to saturate into my internal belief.

I had run through my established race day routine, which had been tested, refined, and proven to work for me in the past. Every step felt detached, as if I were moving through the day without connection to what I was doing. When that monster of a lactate burn came in, I didn’t have the engines to respond by shifting into a new gear.

Racing

I told myself that racing would be a form of redemption for an otherwise poor erg performance. Blindly believing I could improve in one day.

Over two days the women’s team would race 1500 meters in sculling boats plus one day in the pair for my partner and me. And to be fair, side-by-side racing has the power to pull a deeper willingness to fight out of you. There is no doubt in your mind to push, knowing that the athlete in front is all in, and the one behind is watching you do the same.

Somewhere in between the freezing conditions, chaotic switches, and reflections on my life choices, I was glad to feel that intense ‘pain’ that shut me down on the erg.

Apparently, though, it wasn’t enough to be selected to a World Cup boat.

And that outcome strangely brings both relief and even more uncertainty about my abilities and motivations for training full-time.

“I’m teetering between intense motivation and immense agony. Part of me thinks this is what is best for me right now, while the other is fuel to that inner critic, admittedly arguing that this just isn’t for me.”

- Journal entry, March 23, 2026

The Debrief (Unfiltered)

Getting told you aren’t selected for a team isn’t the hard part.

What is most difficult is the weight that decision holds.

It forces you to confront your doubts about your capability and your trajectory in sport. And, if we’re being honest, it’s embarrassing to really try for something and fall short publicly.

I didn’t just take the outcome at face value. I met with my coach afterward to understand how he was interpreting the results and what this checkpoint could mean for my next training block.

In reality, acute injuries, persistent fatigue, illness, and conflicting commitments all chipped away at my consistency. Those issues are not resolved by adding the pressure of international racing, such as strict obligations to a crew and travelling across the world; in fact, they would probably be exacerbated by them.

So yes, the outcome reflects my performance at this point in time, while also reflecting the context.

The upside? There’s still time.

Time to heal my sore back, time to build some real intensity, and time to focus on pulling a rocket of a 2k at the end of May. All while supporting my teammates who will head off to compete and deliver their best performances, building for what comes next.

Understanding the benefits doesn’t take away from the massive ego blow of admitting I wasn’t good enough this time, but I also acknowledge that my mission isn’t peaking for the 2026 World Cup 1, it’s the final regatta of 2028.

And that road is worth it, even if it takes the scenic route.

“There are lots of underacknowledged wins from this period. Through two days of wind and freezing rain, I handled racing calmly and with a smile. When I was told I was on a downward trajectory, I took that feedback with humility and had the maturity to own what I didn’t achieve.

The performance is not a reflection of my worth, but it is the vehicle through which I get the privilege to play the game of mastery.”

- Journal entry March 25, 2026