8.17.2008
Mind Matters
When I was a kid, complaining about some small task or skill that I just "couldn't" do, my mom used to say, "Think you can or think you can't, and either way, you'll be right."
I suspect she was met with a lot of eye rolling, because when a kid says they "can't," what they really mean is, "This is harder than I thought it would be, so I want to stop trying now because it's much easier if you do it for me."
I mentally filed it away with other Mom Sayings, like "what's good for the goose is good for the gander" and "don't make me come up there."
What she was saying, of course, is that physical ability isn't the sole guarantee of your success in a given endeavor. In fact, many people succeed despite their physical abilities -- or even limitations. And there are world class athletes who inexplicably fail despite the best training, equipment and physical condition on the planet.
I wasn't able to grasp the lesson until my first small forays into athletic pursuits.
There was the year in junior high when I went out for the JV track team because all of my friends were, and I didn't want to be the only one walking home after school alone. I was no sprinter, so by default that made me a distance runner, plus I'd posted a decent time or two at the 400 in PE. I wasn't the worst one on the team, and I wasn't the best, either. But I still remember one track meet (did we even have more than the one?) when my friends jokingly told me they would give me chocolate if I placed in the 400. I think they handed out ribbons to the top 6 finishers. So I resolved to push myself, and started a little too quickly, and was fading at the end, until I realized that I was even with another girl on the team who was always faster than me. I wanted to beat her for once, by God, and I dug in that last little bit. I think she still beat me, but I won a ribbon, and it was the pinnacle of my public school athletics career.
Or when I started skiing and the instructor made me realize that I had to think about turning downhill first in order for my shoulders, and the rest of me, to follow.
But the true demonstration of mind over matter came when I took up tae kwon do in college and discovered that the difference between breaking a board -- a requirement for belt tests -- and smacking your foot against the board is almost entirely imaging your foot traveling through the wood, and aiming for a point just past it. You can have perfect technique but no faith in yourself and that board will be as unyielding as brick. You can be a few millimeters off, or have less than full power, but aim your intention through the board and it will crack in two, messily perhaps, but done.
And so I see it again as I watch the Olympics. In a pool of incredibly gifted swimmers, just from the US alone, not to mention the rest of the world, Michael Phelps stands alone because of his rock solid focus and concentration. He is winning every race first in his mind. Realizing it in the water becomes something like a formality.
He thinks he can, and he's right.
I suspect she was met with a lot of eye rolling, because when a kid says they "can't," what they really mean is, "This is harder than I thought it would be, so I want to stop trying now because it's much easier if you do it for me."
I mentally filed it away with other Mom Sayings, like "what's good for the goose is good for the gander" and "don't make me come up there."
What she was saying, of course, is that physical ability isn't the sole guarantee of your success in a given endeavor. In fact, many people succeed despite their physical abilities -- or even limitations. And there are world class athletes who inexplicably fail despite the best training, equipment and physical condition on the planet.
I wasn't able to grasp the lesson until my first small forays into athletic pursuits.
There was the year in junior high when I went out for the JV track team because all of my friends were, and I didn't want to be the only one walking home after school alone. I was no sprinter, so by default that made me a distance runner, plus I'd posted a decent time or two at the 400 in PE. I wasn't the worst one on the team, and I wasn't the best, either. But I still remember one track meet (did we even have more than the one?) when my friends jokingly told me they would give me chocolate if I placed in the 400. I think they handed out ribbons to the top 6 finishers. So I resolved to push myself, and started a little too quickly, and was fading at the end, until I realized that I was even with another girl on the team who was always faster than me. I wanted to beat her for once, by God, and I dug in that last little bit. I think she still beat me, but I won a ribbon, and it was the pinnacle of my public school athletics career.
Or when I started skiing and the instructor made me realize that I had to think about turning downhill first in order for my shoulders, and the rest of me, to follow.
But the true demonstration of mind over matter came when I took up tae kwon do in college and discovered that the difference between breaking a board -- a requirement for belt tests -- and smacking your foot against the board is almost entirely imaging your foot traveling through the wood, and aiming for a point just past it. You can have perfect technique but no faith in yourself and that board will be as unyielding as brick. You can be a few millimeters off, or have less than full power, but aim your intention through the board and it will crack in two, messily perhaps, but done.
And so I see it again as I watch the Olympics. In a pool of incredibly gifted swimmers, just from the US alone, not to mention the rest of the world, Michael Phelps stands alone because of his rock solid focus and concentration. He is winning every race first in his mind. Realizing it in the water becomes something like a formality.
He thinks he can, and he's right.
Labels: Olympics
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