Christina Bengtsson - The Art of Focus: 10,9

CONTENTS

My passion for focus

Finding focus

What to focus on?

Dont set your sights on too much

Our inner core

Empathy a way to achieve focus

It all fell apart

Beyond the competition

Just one shot left. For the sixtieth time this morning, my shooting requires absolute stillness. There is a burning pain in my left arm and I can hear my pulse beating. In the screen of the results monitor beside me I can see the reflection of everyone who has left the grandstand to get a closer look as I fire my final shot. Their presence reminds me of my lead and the fact that my ultimate goal is within reach. A nine now will probably lose me the title. A mere millimetre at a distance of fifty metres could transform this potential triumph into yet another fiasco. With these irritatingly tight margins, the alarming thoughts running through my head and this racing pulse, the outcome might easily be an embarrassing seven. How much time is left in the match? I aim, hold my breath and stare intently through the sight. I cant let this opportunity slip away. The idea, despite a clear lack of sense and concentration, of just shooting and getting it all over with is tempting. If it ends badly, I can always blame the wind. Concentrate!

I decide to stop staring down the sight and interrupt my shot to get some focus. I lower my gun and rest both my arm and my mind. There is a murmur from the spectators. With the little time left in the match and only one shot left, I know they are wondering why Im choosing to rest and break off a good shooting stance. Now, composed, conscious of my thoughts and of the seconds ticking away, I coolly take another few seconds of rest. Dont shoot a seven and what will coach say if I miss out on a medal again? are replaced with one simple thought about the lovely autumn leaf that is playing in the wind just ahead of me. The leaf has my full attention, my worries melt away and a sense of contentment flows through my body. I lift my gun and begin my last shot in this drama. Time ticks away. I wait another few seconds to be sure of myself. The wind has to be right, with the thought about the leaf dominating and keeping the other thoughts at bay. Not many seconds left. The spectators hold their breath and I enjoy the moment. There is tension in the air and a chilly calm prevails. If these seconds could last an eternity, I would choose to stay here forever

Bang!

10.9 flashes up on the screen. Im world champion.

MY PASSION FOR FOCUS

As a child I was good at most sports. I thought running, particularly running really, really fast, was the best thing ever. Every morning I raced Hetty the horse to the school bus, which stopped on the main road, just beyond the end of the horses paddock. By that time of my life, I had been running and jumping around so much that I was a muscular little tomboy with thighs that wouldnt have looked amiss on an ostrich. Since we had our own well at home on the farm, my blond hair had been discoloured by copper deposits and turned green. This combination earned me the nickname of The Hulk.

I made good use of the schools running track, not least when in fourth grade I was challenged to a race by long-legged Henrik in sixth grade. The day when friends and teachers came to watch the battle between Henrik the Tall and The Hulk is one of the strongest sporting memories of my life. It was hard to say who crossed the finishing line first, but it was clear that I was closing in more and more and looked like the victor in the race. I gave it everything I had and ran as if my life depended on it. Being surrounded by jubilant friends and cheering teachers was so encouraging and so life-affirming that there was no prouder person on the planet in that moment.

This may be the first time I got to experience the feeling of being a winner, if only for a day. A victory of this kind was a new experience, and one that I was completely bowled over by. Nothing could be better.

Haunted by this memory, 13 years later I found myself standing outside the student residences of Chalmers University of Technology in Gothenburg with my visiting parents. I had long felt I had some inner capability. It was like a kind of persistent energy that I didnt know what to do with. Being best at something was the only thing I could imagine might satisfy this inner drive, and now I had to tell my mother and father that I had decided to focus on one thing and be the best in the world at it. And it wasnt going to be in academia but in sport. I was worried about how my parents would react to my decision. They had always guided me, helped me and supported me through thick and thin, but they had never really been great cheerleaders for sport. Going into sport was no safe bet in this life. But I was sure it was what I wanted, and I so wanted them to be as understanding about this choice as they had been about all the others.

After a bit of small talk, I announced in a determined voice: Mum, Dad, I have to compete. My determination must have been irresistible. They looked at me and at each other and then it was smiles all round. Their joy at knowing after upper secondary school their daughter had finally become enthused by something meant they welcomed what I told them with open arms. What a relief! I was filled with courage and with even more determination. My worries subsided and I felt a fantastic sense of liberation. Imagine knowing what I want to do, deciding to do it, and gaining the support of those closest to me. I was so happy.

However, I had not yet decided which sport to focus on. The following day my brother also became involved, and he suggested that I was perhaps already too old to be the worlds best sprinter. Following a brief period of consideration, I opted for shooting, a sport that I had tried and been good at, and that I thought I could continue for quite a long time. And so began a new chapter in my life. I sourced the equipment I thought I needed and threw myself into training. It would take me three years of manic practice and mostly coming last before I could even hope to compete with other shooters in Sweden.

In the summer I competed almost every weekend. And every time I came last, I cried. I couldnt comprehend how it could be so damn difficult! After all, I was so committed, so strong-willed and so goal-oriented. Seeing my name at the bottom of the results table hurt the same every time. The thought that the others had been shooting since they were kids, compared with me who had just started, gained no traction with me. In my world, I was programmed to win, but I didnt. That made me feel so disappointed, so small and so sad. What had I let myself in for? What was this longing that I had succumbed too? Could I ever be happy in this new life?

Focused and alone, I travelled the land losing and losing. But my conviction remained. After all the last places, dejection, doubt and tears came disciplined training.

And it was this determination that brought me into the military arena. It was a couple of years later when I randomly came across an ad by the Swedish Armed Forces seeking an elite sportsman or woman with good leadership skills and offering the opportunity to undergo officer training at the same time as being able to train and compete in sport. Now that I had the odd medal at district level, I decided that this position would be mine. I applied, was accepted and began my military service at the air force base F7 Stens.

I trained early in the morning before formation and then late in the evening. To fit in three shooting sessions per day, whenever possible I also rushed off to the air rifle range at lunchtime. We werent actually allowed to be in the shooting range after a certain time in the evenings, but I have to confess that with the help of my military service buddies, I smuggled in a mattress and spent the night inside. This proved a smart move, as it meant I could quickly get into early morning training and I would even train in the middle of the night as a way to practise my technique and balance at different times of the day. I was never found out.