Sir Mo Farah shaves his head and drinks a cup of espresso before every race, David Beckham lines up all the drinks in his fridge so they face the same way and Roger Federer has a thing for the number eight, taking eight spare rackets to each match, asking for eight bottles of water and serving eight aces in every pre-match warm up. I, meanwhile, always have to touch the same part of the same bridge every time I run past it and tap the same spot on the crossbar of a net-less goalpost whenever I run across a nearby football pitch.
Running is the only part of my life where I have traditions like this. I have no lucky pants, I don't wear my socks inside out (like goalkeeper Iker Casillas) and if it wasn't for the fact that the Government has instructed me to do so, I wouldn't usually be washing my hands every five minutes. However, these running traditions are bizarrely comforting and frustrating in equal measure.
On the one hand, tapping the bridge and the goalpost evokes a sense of achievement and familiarity; another run chalked up on a familiar route that I love. On the other hand, though, I am always aware as I approach each of my personal landmarks that I will have to tap them. If I try and tell myself not to bother, the compulsion to tap them becomes even stronger.
I once put this curiosity to the test and ran past the aforementioned goalpost before instantly regretting it, battling the desire to turn around and finally - half a mile later - about-turning to head back and make amends with the inanimate object. To this day, I have no idea why I did that.
What on earth is going on here? I do not have similar relationships with any other objects in my life and when I'm either walking or driving by the same points, I don't find myself stopping the car or diverting my walk to tap in.
Ten minutes of Google research later, I find that this is not Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD), as I had first thought. According to the NHS website, OCD involves unwanted and often unpleasant thoughts that are relieved by compulsive behaviour. While annoying, none of my running habits are unpleasant or overly intrusive, so after reading further I think I firmly sit in the superstition camp, at least according to Psychology Today.
Superstitions apparently form in the same part of the brain that believes in ghosts and essentially include rituals that you partake in to achieve a specific outcome. The science behind this is fascinating, especially when it comes to professional sport. It has been repeatedly shown that superstitious conditioning - wearing the same lucky shirt, sitting in the same seat on the team bus, tapping the club crest before entering the stadium - can positively influence performance. Conversely, forgetting to tap the crest or losing the lucky shirt, can see a significant decline in performance.
Brazilian football legend, Pele, is a great example of this. He once gave his shirt to a fan after a Santos match, before subsequently experiencing a dry spell in front of goal. As a result, he asked a detective to search out the fan and ask for the shirt back. It was found and Pele's form soon returned. However, it later transpired that the shirt was never actually found and the detective had simply given the world's most famous footballer an old shirt from a previous game, telling him it was the one he'd given away.
So, if Pele can fall foul of these oddities, I am not going to beat myself up over my running superstitions. Even if it is all in my head, my form is erratic enough without worsening it by denying my superstitious bridge tapping habits.
However, I would be interested to know if I'm alone in this peculiarity or if there are other runners out there who tap a bridge, run around the same tree or wear lucky shorts for every race? Have you noticed a dip in your performance if you don't follow your usual pre-race ritual, or have you ever regretted throwing out a special t-shirt?
Is this you? Let me know if so, but hands off my bridge.
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