Obey the Speed Limit

If you have played even one or two rounds of golf, you’ve been there. One bad shot turns into two, self-compassion turns into self-criticism, and your once calm, slow pace—mentally and physically—is now traveling at the speed of light. As the fight-or-flight response activates, everything becomes more rapid: heart rate, breath rate, walking pace, thoughts, and yes, even your swing. As your pace accelerates, unfortunately, so does your score.

It makes sense. When things go poorly, you either want to get it back on track as quickly as possible or escape even faster. 

This is not unique to golf—human brains are wired to prioritize safety when they sense a threat. The quickest path to “safety” is avoidance. Unfortunately, our brains cannot distinguish between a physical threat (i.e, the lion chasing you) and an emotional threat (i.e., embarrassment, disappointment, discomfort). Whereas speeding up would actually protect you from physical threats, it often exacerbates emotional pain and scorecard peril. 

So, next time you are on the course and one poor shot turns into two, notice the rapidity of your heart rate, breath, and unproductive thinking and Obey the Speed Limit. Consciously walk slower, inhale and exhale more slowly, even waggle slower. As your breathing, thinking, and routine decrease in tempo, your brain recognizes that “we are not in actual danger” and immediately you regain control of your round. Bad shots happen—spirals don’t have to. If you decelerate, you are not just managing your game, you are mastering your mind.

The "Eras Tour" Blueprint: The Science of Peak Performance

What you saw: 149 sold-out shows over 21 months. 517 hours on stage. Concerts spanning five continents and 21 countries. More than $2 billion in ticket sales, $440 million in merchandise, and a concert film grossing $261 million. These are just a few of the mind-boggling Eras Tour stats.

What you didn’t see: Three-hour punishing treadmill runs while belting out 40-plus songs as if she were on-stage. Six days a week in the gym. More than three months of choreography rehearsals until every move became second nature. Regular ice baths, physical therapy, and mobility work. Post-show vocal cool-downs. Abstinence from alcohol. Prioritizing sleep. Even full days intentionally spent in bed to recover her voice and revitalize her body. This was the process behind the curtain.

Greatness doesn’t just descend onto the stage from the rafters in front of thousands of adoring fans. It doesn’t happen by chance or luck. And, it is most certainly not only natural talent. It is the result of impeccable planning , unshakable resolve, relentless pursuit and off the scale grit. Sure, the Eras Tour outcomes are stunning, but the process behind these outcomes is even more awe-inspiring. 

Swifties and onlookers saw the packed stadiums, crying fans, astounding ticket resale prices, and nightly routines/rituals, but if you look more closely you would have seen a master performer reaping the benefits of deliberate preparation, commitment to a larger purpose (she ultimately bought back the rights to her entire song catalogue with her earnings), and a clear focus on what she could control.

Taylor Swift isn’t just a musician. She is an athlete. She is a professional. Taylor Swift is a Peak Performer. 

Adjust your Effort OR Adjust your Expectations

How’s your Mandarin? How about your knife juggling? Tight-rope walking? 

Probably not great. 

And, that’s perfectly reasonable—you also likely do not expect to be proficient in these objectively difficult tasks. When we have not put in the time to practice, learn, and improve, typically we do not feel frustrated with our struggles.  Our expectations are aligned with our practice.

So why is it that golfers who never go to the range, rarely practice putting, and seldom do skill drills slice their first drive, curse under their breath, and spend the rest of the round bathing in frustration? Sure, they have not performed up to their standards on the course, but is the problem related to their performance or their expectation.

There’s an old saying, “You can’t have million dollar dreams and ten dollar habits.” Golf is no different, so you have a choice: adjust your effort or adjust your expectations. 

2,632 Straight: Lessons from the Ironman

 For a young boy growing up in Baltimore, Maryland, it was a no-brainer: if you liked sports, Cal Ripken Jr. was your hero:

• 21-year Major League Baseball Career

• 19-time All-Star

• Rookie of the Year Award winner

• 2-time AL MVP

• 3,184 career hits, 431 home runs,1695 RBIs

• The only player in MLB history to be managed by his father while playing alongside his brother

You might read this list and think: Of course he was great—he came from a baseball family, he was naturally gifted. But focusing on that obvious advantage might cause you to miss the point completely.

Because I left out the most important stat of all: 

Cal Ripken Jr., The Ironman, played 2,632 consecutive games—spanning more than 16 seasons—without missing a single start.

Sure, he was tall, athletic, and redefined the shortstop position, but what made him an athletic hero wasn’t his raw talent and gaudy numbers, it was his consistency, his durability, and his commitment to his team and the process. Cal could have acted entitled—the son of the coach, the golden boy—but instead, he embodied the hard hat lunch pail approach. In his Hall of Fame Speech, he said, “I never really thought about the streak… I wanted to come to the ballpark… to help the team win.”

The lesson is simple: Show up every day, rain or shine, ready to learn and grow.   Commit yourself to the process of improvement rather than focusing on the results and good things will happen. 

Chase dedication, commitment and grit—not outcomes.

Scottie “Dragonfly” Scheffler: Golf’s Quietest, Deadliest Predator

The Shark. The Bear. The Hawk. Tiger. Some of the fiercest predators on planet earth are also the nicknames of golf’s great champions: Greg Norman, Jack Nicklaus, Ben Hogan, and of course Tiger Woods. Surprisingly, none of these apex predators can match nature’s most efficient killer: The Dragonfly. What the dragonfly lacks in size, it makes up for in efficiency—with an astounding hunting success rate of 95%. Put simply, if you are in the dragonfly’s sights, you are lunch. Perhaps golf historians have been holding back, waiting for the perfect candidate. Well, wait no more. Meet Scottie Scheffler: The Dragonfly.

With nearly 360-degree vision and virtually no blind spots, they can predict their prey's path, intercept them mid-air and paralyze them with their vice-like grip. If that’s not terrifying enough, these aerial assassins employ motion camouflage—moving silently and imperceptibly until it’s too late. In the rare moments where they do misjudge an attack, their four wings adjust independently, so they can course correct in milliseconds. This is why they are nature’s deadliest hunters.

In his ascent to world number one, Scheffler shows the same traits. He appears to have no blind spots and if you are in his sights, he will track you down and finish you off with the calmness of an elderly couple on a Sunday stroll. By Sunday afternoon, competitors do not seem to know what hit them, stunned as the golf course bends to his will. On the uncommon occasion he falters, he immediately recovers, leading the tour in bounce-back percentage. Just as the dragonfly can hover, fly backwards, forwards and upside-down, Scheffler possesses all of the maneuvers, every shot in the bag. Each drive, chip, and putt a mesmerizing display as he strategically glides to yet another victory. 

Sure, the dragonfly may not have mesmerizing stripes, massive paws, talons, or razor-sharp teeth. It is unassuming, workmanlike—and some may even say boring. The same critique has followed Scheffer, who seems to only be concerned with two things: winning and family. Since when is efficiency boring? Since when is winning mundane?

From here forward, Scottie joins the ranks of golf’s great on-course predators and has a terrifying nickname of his own. All hail Scottie “Dragonfly” Scheffler. 

Reframe the Feeling. Rewrite the Result.

On a crisp fall morning, two golfers—one at Augusta National and the other at Pebble Beach—approach the first tee at exactly the same time. Though separated by hundreds of miles, their bodies respond in identical ways—rapid breathing, stomach butterflies, fast beating hearts, sweaty palms, and tense muscles.

One appraises this bodily experience as anxiety, a signal that he is unsure, insecure, and certain to fail. The other defines this physical experience as a sign of excitement, readiness, and the thrill of competition.

Appraisal theory suggests that your interpretation of a sensation (physical, cognitive, or emotional) shapes your experience. The fast beating heart could be a signal impending doom, but it also could be a result of excitement and readiness. When the “false alarm” of performance anxiety blares, reappraisal or redefinition is the key-pad code that silences the noise. As the Stoics preached, it is not the events themselves, but our judgment of them that shapes emotion.

So, the next time you tee it up, step on stage or approach the podium, remember that your fast beating heart, shallow breathing, and muscle tension don’t need to mean you are afraid. They can mean you are prepared and excited to seize the opportunity in front of you.

Get Lost.

One oppressively muggy summer afternoon, when I was six, I was dropped off by a friend’s parents at my grandparents’ house. Unbeknownst to these well-meaning adults, my grandparents had forgotten I was to be their responsibility that afternoon and they were not at home. It became immediately apparent to me that I was now alone, locked out of their house, and completely petrified. Since this was way before the advent of cellphones, I did what any wise six-year-old would do—lost my tiny mind and started screaming “HELP!” Getting lost—or even feeling lost—can be a miserable experience. It’s lonely, confusing, and scary.

But, is getting lost always a bad thing? I’d argue that, when it comes to performance, getting lost in the process is not terrifying, it’s downright delightful. Have you ever been so present, so deeply engaged in your performance that all of the other distractions (i.e., the results, what others think, even what you think) all fade to black? Whereas focusing on the results often leads to distraction, anxiety, frustration, and poorer performance, getting lost in the process can lead to a flow state—where effort feels effortless.

Put most simply, the process is what you CAN control. It is your practice, your pre-shot routine, remaining in the present moment, and what you choose to focus on. So, maybe getting lost isn’t always something to avoid, but rather something to aim for—as long as you are getting lost in the right things, those things that bring you joy or lead to desired growth. So, get lost in the present moment, in your breath, in your process. Who knows, if you get lost in the process, those results you’ve been chasing  might just find you.

What is Winning Anyway?

NFL: One Super Bowl Winner, 31 Losers

MLB: One Major League Champion, 29 Losers

NHL: One Stanley Cup Winner, 31 Losers

Masters: One Champion, 89 Losers

Wimbledon: One Slam Winner, 127 Losers

Yes, one team or athlete lifts the trophy—but are they truly the only winners? I’d argue that “winning” is far more nuanced: it's subjective, personal, and often defined by something deeper than the final score. 

So, what really defines winning? It clearly varies from person to person. For some, it’s the scoreboard statistics or tallys. For others it's simply participating, the comeback, the courage found, the growth initiated, or even the decision to step away.

After experiencing the “twisties” in the 2020 Tokyo Olympics—Simone Biles, arguably the greatest gymnast of all time—made the brave decision to sit out multiple events and prioritize her physical and mental health. Days later, she returned to win a bronze medal on the beam. For someone with seven gold medals, that bronze is likely her greatest triumph. Why? Because it embodied determination in the face of adversity, true courage, leadership, vulnerability, and a redefinition of success.

How about Rachel Hyland, the St. Lawrence University runner who, meters from the finish line in the Division III 5,000 meter race, stopped to help fellow competitor Maddy Adams who collapsed in front of her. She carried her to the finish line. She didn’t win the race, but won the hearts of many.

Maybe your “win” is holding the trophy, but what if your victory was a new personal best, growth under pressure, or learning something about your game that will help in future competitions? This shift in perspective is, in fact, a way to recognize that something meaningful and helpful can be taken from each performance. An improvement from your last performance, overcoming a fear, gaining experience, a personal record, simply finishing, or displaying strong sportsmanship— I would contend that these are all victories too. 

You don’t need to win in the literal sense to be successful—but you do need a clear understanding of what success looks like to you.” Winning isn’t just a result. Sometimes it’s a decision, a moment, or a mindset.

The question is: How do you define it?

The Finger Trap Effect: How Letting Go Improves Performance

If you have ever played with a Woven Finger Trap, you know that its simplicity is deceiving.  While your mind says I’ve got this, your fingers feel stuck the moment you try to extricate them. The harder you try the more the trap tightens. The more you resist, the worse it gets. Eventually, you relax, lean in, and smoothly dislodge yourself. 

Golf, both mentally and physically, operates like a Finger Trap. Think about a time when you start to struggle in a round. Mistakes compound and before you know it, your game (and your attitude) devolve. Once frustrated, you aggressively try to “fix” your game, try harder, and force it only to find that things get worse. Finally, you’ve had enough, declare the round “over” and give in. Magically, once you stop resisting and trying so hard, you string together a wildly different, much better stretch of golf. So, what’s the secret? Letting go and leaning in.

The best performers in any domain learn that the key to overcoming challenges is not fighting them, but rather letting go of rigid expectations. This reduces tension, doubt, and wasted emotional energy. Next time you face adversity, whether in golf or in life, remember the Finger Trap. Lean in, and you just might find the freedom you’ve been searching for. You will gain control over the puzzle rather than the puzzle controlling you. While you may not always achieve your desired result, you will gain a greater sense of freedom and control in those moments when you would have otherwise felt immobilized.

Can you think of a time when resisting and trying harder actually made things worse? 

What happened when you let go?

If at First You Burn Your Tongue…

After casing the joint, Goldie pops the lock and stealthily walks inside. She helps herself to a steaming hot bowl of porridge, burns her tongue, immediately curses in frustration and heads out the door with a first-degree burn and a second-degree felony.

Aside from the obvious don't break and enter message, there is another clear moral to this altered Goldilocks’ story. This remixed narrative is not exactly a tale of perseverance. One setback and she’s out? That’s not grit—that’s quitting. If you’re going to commit a crime, at least have the persistence to finish what you started.

I would suggest that the reason this children's tale has stood the test of time, despite its questionable messaging, is that it highlights the importance of stick-to-itiveness, highlighting the concept of continuing to try when at first you don't succeed. She is not satisfied with a meal that is too hot or too cold, a chair too firm or too soft, or a bed too big or too lumpy. In order to land at “just right” she had to persist through multiple failures.

Most often, failure is not what ruins performance, quitting is. Too often, athletes, executives, and other performers experience discomfort, and see it as a sign to admit or acknowledge defeat.. The burn, the hard chair, the lumpy bed should not be signs to leave, they are signs to keep going. Failure is a necessary and imperative part of the process. It is how we learn. If we give up too quickly, we leave on the table far too many opportunities to grow and improve.

The reason we glorify this fable is because she kept going. She tried another bowl. Then another. Then the chairs. Then the beds. She stuck with it and that’s what made the story interesting and what leads to the true moral. 

The road to success is paved with failures, frustrations, and disappointments. So, the next time you fail at something, you have a choice: Do you grow or do you give up?

Comparison: The Thief of Joy…and Peak Performance

Google “Michael Phelps Lane Photo” and you will find one of my all-time favorite sports photographs. The image captures a moment of contrast: one competitor clearly focused on his opponent and another, Michael Phelps, focused on the task at hand. One Olympian caught up in comparison. The other is the most decorated swimmer of all time. This is not a coincidence.

We often hear that comparison is the thief of joy, but I would argue it is the thief of peak performance as well. Attentiveness is supreme in the moments that matter. When your attention is on things you cannot control, you have taken your eye off of the proverbial ball. Staring at someone else's lane doesn't make you faster. It makes you distracted. This is why race horses wear blinders!

Attempting to beat or best another creates an ego and approval-based approach, rather than one focused on mastery and autonomy. Comparison leads to a focus on results, not the process, moving you further and further away from a flow state. I would suggest that this allows for  detrimental distractions.

Comparison distorts perception. When we measure ourselves against others, we tend to minimize  challenges others face, shortcomings, insecurities (i.e., they don’t get nervous, they never make mistakes, they always seem so confident, etc.) and exaggerate our own. 

So, next time you are in competition, stay in your own lane.

A few clarifying points: 

-I am NOT saying comparison has no place in sports.

-I am NOT saying you can’t use the success of others as a benchmark or inspiration

-I am NOT saying the score and/or pace of others can’t provide valuable information

-I AM saying comparison can be a distraction from your own process

-I AM saying true growth comes from self-reference, not self-judgment 

-I AM saying focusing on your lane—your craft, your values, your process—is the most reliable path to progress and performance.

Broken Bodies, Unbreakable Focus

Some believe it was the flu. Others claim it was food poisoning care of a late-night pizza delivery in Utah. Either way, Michael Jordan, His Airness, scored 38 points in 44 minutes of game five in the 1997 NBA finals and delivered one of the most iconic sports memories of my childhood.

Similarly, a pulled hamstring, swollen knee and no time to take batting practice are not exactly a recipe for success. However, on one fateful night in October of 1988, that’s exactly the circumstances Kirk Gibson and his World Series-winning Los Angeles Dodgers experienced when, with a hobbled body, he belted an unfathomable Game 1 Home Run.

Then there’s the ultimate competitor, Tiger Woods. Risking permanent damage at the 2008 U.S. Open, Woods limped down each fairway with a torn ACL, two stress fractures, cartilage damage and even extra playoff holes en route to his 14th major championship.

It would be laughable to suggest that illness or injury is performance-enhancing and I am not suggesting athletes ignore pain. I am, instead, highlighting the mental resilience and focus athletes can summon in less-than-ideal situations. When these limitations are interpreted as focus-narrowers, the important elements of performance are in plain view. 

When athletes endure certain ailments, they do not possess the mental energy to be concerned with pressure, technique or any other external factors, they can’t focus on anything other than what matters: the process and the skills previously mastered that require discipline not thought. The pain they experience forces them into the present moment and removes unnecessary distractions, bringing the essentials into plain view. So, next time you are concerned that you do not feel 100% physically or emotionally, don’t count yourself out. It may just provide the formula for unbreakable focus.

Be Curious, not Judgmental

In what has become my favorite scene in my favorite TV series, Ted Lasso, Ted hustles the antagonist in the episode in a game of darts while telling a prophetic story about being picked on as a child. In this story, he explains how he learned to let go of negative feedback from others who hadn’t even bothered to get to know him. While effortlessly defeating the bully, Ted shares the advice often misattributed to Walt Whitman: “Be Curious, Not judgmental.”

While it is phenomenal advice interpersonally (what could be bad about treating others with less judgment?), it is equally good personal advice (we often treat ourselves worse than we would ever treat another). When working with individuals and teams, I will ask if they talk to others as they do to themselves. After a few sheepish laughs, I often hear some version of, “Oh, heck no. I would never talk to anyone else like that!”

The question that begs answering is: when we are hesitant to allow others to treat us this way, why then, would we treat ourselves so poorly? (prioritizing curiosity over judgment) There are a myriad of answers to this question, but I often find that many of us truly believe belittling ourselves is the path to motivating ourselves and ultimately improving. There is one problem with that thought pattern or logic though: there is no research to suggest that this actually works. Instead, it appears to increase shame, halt progress, and in some cases, lead to anxiety and depression. 

One antidote to this type of harsh, negative, self-judgment, is what Raymond Prior, author of Golf Beneath the Surface describes as “interest curiosity.” When engaging in this type of internal questioning, individuals can say to themselves in a moment of difficult emotion, “Hmm, How interesting I think _________  will __________, when what it really does is __________.” For example: “Hmm, How interesting that I think calling myself horrible names after not getting that promotion will encourage and motivate me to do better, when in fact all it really does is keep my frustration levels high and leaves me thinking about the past, not the present moment I have control over.” 

Our judgment leads to fractured relationships with others and ourselves. Additionally, the abundance of judgment and the lack of curiosity negatively impact our performance athletically and professionally. If we truly engage more curiously and compassionately with ourselves and others we are far more likely to reach our goals and enjoy fruitful relationships along the way.

How has the way you have treated yourself impacted your performance?

Tell Me I Won’t. Tell Me I Can’t.

Michael Jordan was cut from his high school basketball team and was told he wouldn’t succeed. He went on to win six NBA titles. After multiple neck surgeries, Peyton Manning was told he would never play football again. Subsequently, he won his second super bowl and set the NFL single-season passing touchdown record. JK Rowling was urged to “get a day job” after Harry Potter was rejected by twelve different publishers. It became the best selling book series of all time. Walt Disney was told he lacked imagination and we all know how that turned out. The world told them “you won’t, you can’t.” They said, “watch me.”

The takeaway…Greatness often begins where doubt enters.

We have all faced skepticism from within and from others. What matters is not the mere presence of doubt, but rather what you choose to do with it. You can believe the naysayers and walk away or you can buckle down, double down and bear down.

Doubt preys on performers too focused on the opinions of others, on proving rather than improving. Conversely, the greatest rely on their own conviction and choose to use doubt as data and fuel. So, when doubt arises, you have a choice: you can let it be the truth, the verdict, or you can allow it to strengthen your motivation and make it your turning point. 

How will you respond when doubt shows up next?

Cars, Clouds, Thoughts and Feelings: This Too Shall Pass

Cars pass, clouds drift, the ESPN ticker keeps scrolling. Transient, temporary, fleeting—we expect movement. Cars come and go, clouds roll on, the ticker never stops. So why do we treat our thoughts, feelings, and experiences any differently? Why, when sadness creeps in, frustration rises, or negativity settles, do we assume it’s permanent? Instead of clinging to emotional constancy, we’d do better to remember the ancient wisdom: This too shall pass.

Mindfulness practice teaches us to embrace impermanence. By visualizing our thoughts and feelings as cars on a highway, clouds drifting in the sky, or scores scrolling on the ESPN ticker, we can detach from them and stop letting them control us. Recognizing the transience of emotions and thoughts not only fosters greater presence but also nurtures curiosity and reduces suffering.

In sport and performance, one negative thought or challenging emotion can signal the beginning of the end, the proverbial “here we go” moment—The beginning of the downward spiral. If, instead, performers embraced a more mindful approach and recognized thoughts and feelings as fleeting, they could more quickly regain composure, focus on the present moment, and control the controllable while they let the unhelpful pass by. 

When Surrendering is Not Waving the White Flag

How often do we expend our valuable cognitive and physical energy on things we have no control over, leading to frustration and a sense of powerlessness? We devote so much time and focus to things we cannot actually influence. Mel Robbins teaches, in her book Let it Go, we must loosen our grip on the uncontrollable. We must surrender. But, what if the word surrender has nothing to do with admitting defeat, throwing in the towel, or waving the white flag? What if, instead, it is one of our greatest performance assets?” At its core, surrendering is about acceptance, trust, commitment, and letting go of things that are outside of one’s control. Surrendering is how you gain control.

In a Dare to Lead podcast episode, Dr. Sarah Lewis suggested that one must surrender what she has termed “counterfeit control,” to fully excel. In performance settings, we often focus on elements far outside of our control and these become distractions, fool's errands. One exercise I have used for many years is to give individuals a sheet of paper with two boxes, one labeled controllables and the other labeled uncontrollables and ask them to place what they focus on in the applicable box. It is only then that the individual can direct their attention and energy to aspects of the experience they have direct control over. They then can be decisive, commit fully, accept all outcomes, and surrender to the knowledge that not all circumstances demand control. Just as is true with a finger trap, letting go is the best way out.

In your personal life, work, or athletic career, what have you surrendered to? 

How was your experience changed by this acceptance?

Anchors Away!

Imagine you are stuck in rough waters. Rudderless, your boat is whipped around by the chaos of the sea. Certain death approaches. At the last moment you realized you are equipped with a 30 pound anchor. You drop the weight and it plows into the ocean shore and, while you may still drift slightly, you are grounded, safe, and steady.

In sport and performance, you can possess your own psychological anchors to weather the storm of pressure, self-doubt, and fierce competition. These cues can be cognitive, physical or both. They could be the fastening or unfastening of a glove, a tap of the bat, removing your hat OR they could be a one word mantra, a deep breathe, or a quick visualization. Regardless of the specific anchor, these practices are stabilizing and calming in the face of stressful performance moments.

So, next time you are lost in the proverbial turbulent swells of competition, drop the anchor. It is likely the keep to remaining focused, steady, and present during the most emotionally charged moments.

When the Stuff Hits the Fan, Adaptability is the Plan

Years ago, Mike Tyson provided this poetic uppercut: Everyone has a plan until they get punched in the mouth. Similar to his brute strength, Mike’s words hit hard. His suggestion that the best plans can evaporate in the face of an unexpected “punch” is universally applicable. In opposition, it can be inferred that, in fact, the best plans anticipate setbacks, failures, and chaos. They are built on adaptability, resilience, and composure in the eye of the storm.

Competitors who expect, accept and embrace the potential for chaos tend to be the most successful. Those who need everything to be “perfect,” stumble. Jack Nicklaus knew he had every player who complained about the conditions of the course or the environment beat before they even tee’d off. If performers plan for and assume adversity will inevitably arise, they can then ground themselves in the present moment, return to their pre-programmed plan, and adjust it where necessary. 

The best performers know when to stick with the plan and when to alter it. Continuing to play zone defense when the other team is shooting well, throwing fastballs when they are getting crushed by batters, hitting drop shots when your opponent is too quick is not a winning formula.

If performers let go of their attachment to “how it was supposed to go,” they adapt, remain in the present moment, trust their training, and continue on with a greater chance of success.

Are you more Oak or Pine: The benefits of flexibility

Years ago, as I was kindly displaced from my office building, an old Victorian mansion in the heart of Denver, the owner of the building thoughtfully presented me with a beautiful wooden pen. He told me that this pen was not only made from wood in the mansion but came with a story. Apparently, the woodworker was originally sent beautiful red oak wood, but it broke every time he attempted to bend it around the interior ink cartridge. Discouraged yet eager to complete the task successfully, he asked for different wood. The owner of the building replied, “I have some cruddy, old pine from a mantel,” to which the pen maker said, “Yes! Please send that.” Striking pens made of pine were returned to him weeks later.

Most of us yearn to be like oak: sturdy, strong, rich in texture and depth and few want to be like pine: cheap, bendable, soft, and imperfect. However, the pen maker explained that these pens and the pine they were constructed from symbolize the value of flexibility and adaptability. The athletes, coaches, and executives I have worked with who are most successful also happen to be the most like pine. They acknowledge mistakes made, examine lessons learned from those experiences, flexibly adapt, and move forward. In sport and in business, the more open you are to adapting (especially when things are just not working), the more success you realize.

Most feel that Tiger Woods has been one of, if not the most, mentally tough professional athletes of our time. What may be overlooked is his adaptability. A total of four times during his prolific career, Tiger Woods completely changed his golf swing. He had the best swing in the game and still felt it could be improved upon. That is flexibility at its finest.

Are you more oak or pine-like? When you are more flexible, how is your performance impacted?

Is that a lion or a par three over water?: being able to tell the difference matters.

The brain grows from bottom to top, back to front, and inside out. The reason for this is evolutionarily: the brainstem and limbic system develop first in order to help each individual survive and the prefrontal cortex, responsible for higher-order thinking, is last on board. The “downstairs,” reflexive and emotional portions of the brain are wired for protection because survival is ultimately the most important task for every human being. This developmental phenomenon helps us to understand why negative experiences encoded as dangerous in some way are stored more strongly, quickly, and deeply in the brain. 

Yet, as much as the human brain is evolutionarily superior to that of less developed species, it still struggles to accurately detect and assess threats. Thus, while staring down a par three over water, teeing off in front of a group of friends, or putting to win a match, we often interpret the situation as if we are being chased by a lion. Even though physical danger is not a reality, the brain responds as if it is, sending a danger message out to the rest of the body by way of the sympathetic nervous system. Physiological responses that prepare the body for fight/flight/freeze such as a fast beating heart, muscle tension, shallow breathing, sweaty palms, and even nausea follow. Our thoughts are also clouded/constricted by this perceived threat.

When we become aware of our fear triggers on the course and at work, better understand why our body is responding in the way that it is, and commit to calming the body through deep breathing and mindfulness exercises, we regain control of the moment. 

When you are triggered on the course or at work, how do your mind and body react? 

What helps you calm the mind and body?