The Joy of Missing Out

What a race we witnessed in Nice! A World Championship to remember and as my friend put it: The Oxford dictionary will now name Casper Stornes under “dark horse”. Clearly I missed him in my predictions last week, although he speaks better to the sentiment than anyone else. After years of being in the shadow of his training partners, he finally emerges as Champion. Chapeau!

The question I was asked the most, not only in Nice is somewhat a guarantee. Always the same words, delivered with that particular mix of curiosity and concern reserved for former addicts who claim they're happy sober.

"Do you miss it? Being at the front, fighting for titles?"

The answer is no. And I know how that sounds.

It sounds like someone who`s being offered a beer a week after declaring it´s “dry July”. It sounds like the kind of thing you say when you're supposed to say it, not when you actually mean it. But I do mean it- in a way that surprises even me.

Paula Newby-Fraser introduced me to a different kind of concept over a random cup of burnt coffee in Kona last year: JOMO. The Joy of Missing Out. It's FOMO's quieter, more content sibling, it’s opposite in many ways. The one who watches the chaos from a comfortable distance and thinks, "I'm good right here."

JOMO isn't resignation. It's not giving up or settling or making peace with mediocrity. It's the opposite-  it’s clarity. It's knowing the difference between what you think you should want and what actually fills you up. And after years of living in the pressure cooker that is championship racing, I get more out of sharing the inside story.

When I watch races now- especially the big ones, the world championships that used to define my calendar- I feel something I didn't expect. Relief. Not the bitter kind that comes from dodging a bullet, but the deep, satisfied kind that comes from being exactly where you belong. I watch the work, the suffering, the endless ups and downs of walking a razor sharp edge between fit and… well, you can complete the rhyme. And I think: "That was absolutely bonkers. I'm glad it was them, not me."

People mistake this for complacency. They think contentment equals coasting, that if you're not hungry anymore, you must be full of yourself. But JOMO isn't about settling- it's about choosing. It's about having the clarity to know when your relationship with something has changed, and the courage to honor that change instead of forcing a connection that no longer serves you.

I spent twenty odd years measuring my worth by my ability to suffer at the front of the pack. Twenty years where my value as a human being was determined by whether I could hold pace when everything hurt and everyone around me was trying to break me. That's a brutal way to live, even when you're winning. Especially when you're winning.

The championship fight is seductive that way. It makes you believe that the suffering is the point, that the only way to know you matter is to put yourself through the kind of pain that makes ordinary people question your sanity. And for a long time, I lived that completely. The harder it was, the more meaningful it felt.

But there's something liberating about stepping back and realizing the game itself was optional. That the definition of a life well lived doesn't require you to push yourself to the edge of human performance on a Tuesday in November because that’s when my coach decides he needs a new test baseline upon which to build our plan.

Now I train because I want to, not because I have to. I push myself when it feels right, not when a plan demands it. I race up a hill occasionally, for joy rather than judgment. And the absence of that crushing pressure- the weight of expectations, rankings, the constant measurement against everyone else's best day- has created space for something I didn't know I was missing. Peace with the path I'm on.

This isn't the peace of someone who's given up. And don’t get me wrong- I felt at complete peace when I was in and amongst it. But this is the peace of someone who's found a new avenue that sparks curiosity. JOMO for me is what happens when you stop trying to prove you belong and start enjoying the fact that you do. When you stop measuring your life against other people's highlights and start appreciating the quiet satisfaction of your own daily rhythms.

Do I miss the adrenaline of championship racing? Sometimes. Do I miss the clarity of having one singular focus that organized every aspect of my life? The simplicity of it? Occasionally. But do I miss the anxiety, the constant self- evaluation, the way winning never felt like enough and losing felt like everything? Not so much.

The beautiful thing about JOMO is that it doesn't close doors- it just stops trying to kick them all down at once. I'm still here, still moving, still curious about what I'm capable of. But I'm no longer willing to sacrifice my peace of mind, family life or just about anything else to find out.

Stay curious and content but never complacent,

J.