Developing mental fitness
When I was 11 years old, my family moved to a home in a neighborhood on a hill. We lived about halfway up the quarter-mile street that ran through the neighborhood. Having lived previously in a home located in a flat, rural part of town, we had grown accustomed to spending a lot of time outside riding bikes, playing sports and games, and exploring the outdoors. We eventually learned to do those things in a suburban neighborhood; however, living on a hill made the learning process more complicated.
In those days, rollerblades were popular and even though I was still learning to skate, I decided it was time to try them out on our street. Having ridden up and down the hill several dozen times on my bike, I was familiar with the steady climb to the top and the speedy descent to the bottom where the road leveled out. I would pedal my way up the hill to where the road dead-ended into a cul de sac, turn around, and then let gravity take me to the bottom. In front of our house was a small intersection that led to another cul de sac, so I had the option to stop before arriving at the bottom of the hill.
On the day I decided to rollerblade up the street, the climb was much easier than I expected. I reached the top of the hill and turned around for what should have been an easy trip to the bottom. At that point my brain paused to calculate the steepness of the hill, my inexperience with rollerblades, and an extreme fear of crashing. When I finished analyzing the situation, I realized my legs were wobbly and my chest was tight with anxiety. There was no way my brain and body were going to let me go any further.
I stood there trying to figure out how I was going to make it back down the hill. One idea that came to mind was crouching down into a squatting position and slowly rolling forward, using my hands as a type of training wheel to control my speed. This seemed to work for a few minutes until my adolescent brain decided this was not a good plan for two reasons: 1) this was going to take a LONG time, and 2) what if the kids from the neighborhood saw me in this state of fear?
Without any other options coming to mind, I decided I had to skate down the hill as originally planned — standing up. I stood up, pushed off with my right foot, and slowly rolled forward. As I quickly picked up speed, I leaned forward and tucked in my arms like I had seen the downhill skiers do in the Winter Olympics. I couldn’t believe it! I was actually moving down the hill and everything was going ok! I knew this would be the first of many trips down the hill on my rollerblades.
I decided to turn at the small intersection in front of my house, so I wouldn’t have to climb the full quarter mile before the next attempt. I shifted my weight to the left and started to make the turn. In a moment of hubris, I stood to celebrate my accomplishment, almost mocking the fear that had paralyzed me moments earlier. It was at that moment I completely lost my balance. As I fell backward, my feet went straight up in the air and I must have rolled four or five times until I came to a stop in the gutter outside our neighbor’s home where he was out mowing the lawn. The good news was that he was a doctor. The even better news was that I was miraculously unharmed except for a few scratches and bruises on my arms and legs, and of course, my bruised pride.
The neighbor asked if I was ok. In a quivering voice with tears welling up in my eyes, I said “yes,” and skated across the street back to my house. I took off the rollerblades, put them back into the box, and slid the box back under my bed. I never used them again. Let me be clear: I. Never. Skated. Again.
When I reflect back on that experience, so many questions come to mind. The one that has bothered me the most is, “Why didn’t I think of any alternatives to the approach I took?”
Instead of coming straight down the hill, I could have slalomed back and forth between the sidewalks to control my speed. I could have turned my skates and walked sideways down the hill. Or even better yet, I could have simply taken my skates off and walked home carrying my skates.
So, what caused me to not see the other options?
When we are faced with obstacles and operating with a negative mindset, our brains develop a sort of mental tunnel vision that creates an intense focus on responding to the stimuli causing the obstacle. It is part of a natural response to danger our brains are equipped with to keep us safe from harm. This mental tunnel vision can limit our problem-solving capabilities and cause us to make risky decisions. The irony of this condition is the very mechanism designed to keep us safe can also propel us toward dangerous outcomes.
Mental tunnel vision is what I experienced at the top of the hill. I was so fixated on getting down the hill, and out of my stressful situation, that I could not come up with any safer alternatives.
There are times in my career when I have operated with mental tunnel vision. I recall a specific instance where my negative mindset was triggered by a toxic culture. Similar to my rollerblading experience, by continuing to act with a negative mindset I was blind to the alternatives that were significantly better than the one I chose to navigate the situation. I missed out on opportunities to deepen relationships with peers and clients and increase the positive impact of the projects I was responsible for. More importantly, it was a time in my career when my happiness was at its lowest point. To make it worse, the feelings of unhappiness extended beyond the boundaries of work and into my personal life.
Since that time, I have learned to embrace life’s challenges with a positive rather than a negative mindset.
Maintaining a positive mindset is not easy. I take time throughout the day to be mindful of my feelings and emotions. When I sense my feelings have been high-jacked or triggered, I focus on being aware of my physical senses and blocking out all thoughts not related to those senses. If I’m being proactively mindful, I create space in my daily schedule to focus on my physical senses in 1–2 minute intervals. There are some days when these focus sessions are so effective I don’t recall being triggered into a negative emotional state.
This process of embracing life’s challenges by maintaining a positive versus a negative mindset is also referred to as mental fitness. Just like healthy eating, daily exercise, and getting enough sleep, mental fitness is one of the building blocks for improved performance and well-being. Studies of mental fitness and my personal experience indicate it is possible to improve our mental fitness in six weeks or less.
To borrow from an ancient Chinese proverb, the best time to get serious about your mental fitness was six weeks ago; the next best time is now.
Be sure to check in weekly for tips on how to improve your mental fitness.
