Sometimes we find inspiration in unexpected places. This week on the SGSAH blog, resident blogger Ebba reflects on what researchers, famous for sitting so very still, can learn about resilience from successful athletes.

Watching the Olympics this summer reminded me of how, as I child, I’d often watch athletes being interviewed on TV about some recent success or failure. They made a strong impression on me, red-cheeked and out of breath, always with their eyes set on the next goal. As they tried to sum up to the reporter what they made of their performance, their answers seemed rehearsed to me: if they had failed to achieve a medal, their eyes burnt with disappointment, yet they would say,

‘I’m frustrated, yes, but I’ll just have to work harder and come back another day.’

If their success was a fact and they were met with a cheering crowd and a delighted reporter, they were still strangely subdued:

‘This was a good day, yes, I achieved my goal.’

Only later did I realise that their answers were so similar because somewhere behind them stood a coach trained in sports psychology, responsible for helping them prepare not just their bodies but also their minds to cope with the immense psychological pressure of elite sport.

Over time, and especially since I started my PhD, I’ve remember the mindset of these athletes. I do perceive of my PhD as a set of races (excuse the cliché) that I run with the support of others, but that I ultimately must complete on my own. Though I think of rivalry as unhelpful, the image of myself racing towards a set goal is a metaphor that is productive because it’s easy to visualise. It allows me to perceive that there is a finishing line to my PhD; that I am simultaneously on my own and part of a larger community of people that share my values and interests; and, most significantly, that I have to make room for rest and rehabilitation. While I don’t have any formal training in sports psychology, I share below the mantras that I have accumulated from listening to athletes over the years, hoping that they will be useful for you too.

Criticism is temporary, and so is praise

An athlete has to perform regardless of whether they’re in an arena full of people cheering for the other team, or in front of a crowd chanting their name. These potential factors are equally irrelevant; there’ll always be another game, a new crowd, a different opinion on whether they’re doing well. Successful athletes focus only on the challenge in front of them and on what they need to do in order to take the next step towards their goal.

When I receive criticism (constructive or otherwise), it can feel like a crowd booing me, disappointed and aggressive. Similarly, receiving praise has often felt to me like a thousand people giving me a standing ovation. The way I’ve found to neutralise these strong feelings about feedback is to picture myself running towards a set goal. If someone offers me a very specific and helpful way to run more effectively, I’ll implement it as fast as I can. If the feedback is distracting me more than helping me, I leave it behind. There’ll always be a new conference audience, a different reader, or another person on the street who fancies themselves an authority on something I’m doing. As researchers, we’re running towards something beyond the opinions of a small selection of observers.

You only compete against yourself

The other day on the news, I heard an athlete who had just completed a long-distance race say something along the lines of,

‘What [my competitor] was doing right in front of me was out of my control. I could only focus on my own performance. And I did what I set out to do.’

We’ve all received advice to this effect, but to me it’s key to emphasise that the reason you should only compete with yourself is because you are the only thing in any situation that you can truly control. If you feed into the illusion that what other people are saying and doing is somehow up to you, or is reflecting on you in a certain way, you’ll drive yourself mad.

You can be competitive without being rivalrous

I don’t believe that being a competitive person means that you want to defeat other people, nor does it mean that you need to use external measurements to evaluate yourself (i.e. glancing sideways at what others are doing). To me, feeling competitive is an expression of high energy levels directed at getting myself to where I want to be. I don’t feel like that all the time (mostly I feel like being in bed with an Elena Ferrante novel), but when I do, I want to make use of that gusto.

I don’t accept the commonly held belief that competitiveness is necessarily a longing to be more successful than others, or about thinking of other researchers as rivals. In an uncertain academic landscape that inspires comparison, rivalry and conflict because jobs are few and far between, it has been important for me to learn how to not be swept away by the idea that my desire to reach my goals will be a disadvantage to someone else. When I’m energised by the sense that I’m running towards a goal, I’m in a better position to be a team player.

No one is too good to rest

This is what I struggle with the most – the sense that my body should be able to exist in a vacuum of constant work, away from the laws of nature that rule I need rest, relaxation and fun. This seems to me one of the big differences between athletes and researchers: the former can’t afford to act like their bodies don’t exist as their performance hinges on their physical wellbeing, while the latter often forgets the importance of stretching, going for a walk, eating well. Doing these things has been a game-changer for me.

Drink lots of water!

It doesn’t matter that you sit down all day, you need it just as much as the athletes. Every day, any time of the year: HYDRATE.

Photos my own unless stated otherwise.