Among my favorite psychological studies recently is one that shows that imagining exercise is almost as good as actually doing it. For an intellectual like me, that’s pure mental Olympic gold. I can think about exercising instead of doing it and get almost the same effect!
The research shows how right Oscar Wilde was when he said, “Whenever I feel like exercising, I lie down until the feeling passes.” Always assuming, of course, that Mr. Wilde kept thinking about what he wasn’t doing as he rested.
The study had healthy people immobilize their hands and wrists in casts for four weeks (where do they find these people?). Half the group did nothing, and the other half imagined themselves contracting their muscles for 11 minutes five times a week.
I could manage that. That’s less than an hour a week, total.
The results? The group that did the mental exercise reduced their muscle loss by half compared to the control group. Now, most importantly, that’s very good news for people forced to be immobile for any length of time who are worried about muscle loss.
But the study also points to another way in which our minds and bodies are connected, something this blog has been exploring for a long time. If imagining working your muscles has something of the same effect as actually doing it, then the mental movies created by Olympic athletes to envision and reinforce success turn out to be both mentally and physically important. Not only will the mind be reinforcing what the body has to do, but the mental activity will also be strengthening the appropriate muscles.
And that realization has important insights for public speakers, people who must perform under the influence of adrenaline, and indeed peak performers of any kind. I would go so far as to suggest that not undertaking to create mental movies of your high-stakes successful performance means that your actual moment of truth will be less successful. You’re undercutting yourself if you don’t do the mental work – just like the control group of cast-bound subject who left their muscles inert and suffered muscle loss as a result.
On the other hand, those who do take the role of the mind – and the unconscious mind – seriously in peak performance, and who create mental movies showing themselves undertaking the task in question perfectly and adroitly – will perform better, more precisely, and with fewer errors.
Modern neuroscience is only beginning to tease out the relationship between mind and body, and we don’t fully understand how the connection works – but anyone concerned with peak performance would be foolish to ignore the mounting evidence that the connection is a powerful one.
I first experienced the connection as a young actor trying to make his way from regional theatre to the big time of Broadway shows and (independent) movies. I was cast in the lead in a (local) revival of Noel Coward’s Blithe Spirit. My co-star had an annoying habit of adding my name at the beginning and ending every one of her lines. It was “Charles” this and “Charles” that. Sounds like a small thing, until you realize that actors rely on cues from the other actors to get their next lines. All of her lines were starting to sound the same, given that they all began and ended with the same word, Charles.
I started to develop an horrific mental block, becoming deathly afraid that I would forget crucial lines in the endless repetition of my name. And what I found was that, as soon as I started to believe that it would happen, it did. In the weeks of rehearsal leading up to opening night, I got worse and worse, forgetting bigger and bigger chunks of my dialogue. My big break was looking likely to become my last bow.
The director drew me aside after one particularly painful rehearsal and asked me if I was a complete and utter idiot. How could repetition be making me worse and worse? When I confessed my fears to him, fortunately for me, he was familiar with the idea of mental blocks and imagery. He set me to imagining success, nailing my lines one after another despite the endless repetition of my name, Charles, Charles, Charles.
By opening night, I was confident, well-rehearsed, and able to pull my lines out of the welter of identical cues. My memory muscles were up to the challenge, thanks to the mental exercise. Ignore the exercise of your mind at your peril.
Great article and a nice personal story to make the point, Nick.
I tell clients who have a big presentation ahead of them to visit the venue, if they can, days before the event. Get a feel for the room, the lighting, the smell, the sounds, the layout. Then, in the days leading up to the presentation, they should take a bit of time each day to visualize themselves on the stage, speaking with confidence to a receptive audience.
For situations in which the venue is far away and it is not practical to travel there to see it, speakers can still benefit from the practice by looking at photos of the room. Very often, images of the venue are available; for example on hotel websites or from the event organizers themselves. In 2011, I had a speaking engagement in Lisbon and was able to find a series of great photos that covered all of the angles of the theatre in which I was to speak. When I finally walked into the room, it felt like I had been there before!
Cheers!
John
Thanks, John — love the example you cite of studying the photos of the room beforehand so that it looked familiar when you arrived. I’ve done the same — the prep makes all the difference.
Great article, Charles!
:-)
This is so interesting, Nick! It reminds me of what goes through our brains sometimes — things like, “Why can’t I make more money?” Our brains set to work on the reasons, which reinforce the “not making” of the money.
It also reminds me of being a cocktail waitress many years ago. I worked in the lounge of a fancy restaurant, and occasionally I had to deliver drinks to people who’d been ushered into the dining room before we had time to serve them in the lounge.
One night I had to deliver six tall beers to a table in the restaurant. We were busier than usual and the customers were more dressed up than usual, though I’ve since forgotten the occasion. I took particular note of one woman’s beautiful evening gown as I approached. And just as I reminded myself what a disaster it would be if I lost my balance, I lost my balance. I can still hear the sound of glasses shattering as they hit the table and then the floor. It was one of those slow-motion moments you never forget.
The entire restaurant fell silent. Everyone looked at me, wondering how I’d recover. I had no idea! Just when I thought I might die from embarrassment my friend Paul, a food server, appeared. He looked at the woman’s stunning blue dress, now soaked, and said, “Well, I guess the drinks are on you tonight!” Everyone laughed. The manager swooped in with a voucher for drycleaning and asked me for their tab so he could comp their check. It was soaking wet, just like everything else, and fell apart as he tried to run it through the register.
Maureen — always great to hear from you and I loved the story — one of those “try not to think about the charging rhino” moments. I hope you’ve forgiven yourself — it’s time.