How (and When) to Motivate Yourself

by Peter Bregman

I woke up this morning to pouring rain and temperatures in the low 40s. I had planned on going for an early bike ride in Central Park but now I wasn't so sure. I like to get some exercise every day and given my commitments for the rest of the day, this was my only opportunity. But did I really want to get so wet and cold?

I decided to go for it, though I continued to question myself as I put on my biking clothes and got my bike out of the basement. I paused under the awning of our apartment building, as rain streamed down on either side of me.

A friend of mine, Chris, happened to be dashing home to avoid the rain and stopped under the awning for a second.

"Great day for a bike ride," he said, before running on.

He's right, I thought, this is dumb. I stayed under the awning for a few more minutes as I considered retreating into the warmth of my apartment.

Finally, knowing that I'd feel great after a good, hard ride, I got on my bike and took off, pedaling hard. The initial sting of the cold rain had me questioning myself again but I kept going.

Then, after less than five minutes, the rain stopped bothering me. And after a few more minutes, it felt kind of good. Invigorating. It turned out to be a great ride.

When I got back to the apartment building — drenched, a little muddy, and with a big smile on my face — one of my neighbors commented on how motivated and disciplined I was to be out on a day like that.

But he was wrong. My ride in the rain taught me a good lesson about motivation and discipline: we need it less than we think.

"I didn't need to be motivated for long," I laughed. "Just long enough to get outside."

Because once I was already in the rain, it took no discipline to keep riding. Getting started was the hard part. Like getting into a cold pool. Once you're in, it's fine. It's getting in that takes motivation.

In fact, when you think about it, we only need to be motivated for a few short moments. Between those moments, momentum or habit or unconscious focus takes over.

I write at least one post a week. Does that take discipline? Sure. But when I break it down, the hardest part — the part for which I need the discipline — is sitting down to write. I'll find all sorts of things to distract me from starting. But if I can get myself to start a post, I don't need much discipline to finish it.

Need willpower to work on something difficult? Ask yourself when you need that willpower the most. Received feedback that you should talk less in meetings? Figure out when are you most susceptible to blabbing on. Trying to maintain a commitment to yourself or someone else? Identify the times when you are most at risk of violating that commitment.

Then, whatever you do, don't give up in the moments when you're most vulnerable. Don't give up the bike ride while standing under the awning watching it rain. Even when your friend tells you you're crazy to go out.

In other words, never quit a diet while reading the dessert menu. It's too tempting. That's not the right time to second-guess your commitment. It's precisely the time to use your willpower and discipline.

We waste a lot of time, energy, and focus second-guessing ourselves. Am I doing the right work? Is this project worthwhile? Is this employee going to work out? That moment-by-moment deliberation is a distraction at best and sabotage at worst. If you keep asking yourself whether a project is worth working on, you'll reduce your effort on that project — who wants to spend time on something that might fail? — and doom its success.

On the other hand, it's impossible to ignore those feelings of uncertainty. The solution? Schedule them. Create an established time to second-guess yourself, a time when you know your commitment won't be weakened by the temptations of the moment. If you're going to break the diet, do it when your need for willpower is at its lowest. Decide to decide the next day, maybe after a healthy breakfast or a little exercise, when you know your inclination to stick to your goals will be naturally high.

Then, if you decide to stay on the diet, commit fully and powerfully until the next scheduled time to deliberate. Knowing you have a planned pause allows you to focus and concentrate without hesitation until the established time to second guess yourself.

And if you do eventually decide to change your commitment, you'll know it's not from momentary weakness. It'll be a strategic, rational, intentional decision.

What's important is that your moment of choice is when you are in the right state of mind — when you need the least willpower — to make the best decision.

Which is why, sitting here at my computer, dry, comfortable, and having had a great ride today, I've decided to go out again tomorrow.

Six Keys to Being Excellent at Anything

by Tony Schwartz

I've been playing tennis for nearly five decades. I love the game and I hit the ball well, but I'm far from the player I wish I were.

I've been thinking about this a lot the past couple of weeks, because I've taken the opportunity, for the first time in many years, to play tennis nearly every day. My game has gotten progressively stronger. I've had a number of rapturous moments during which I've played like the player I long to be.

And almost certainly could be, even though I'm 58 years old. Until recently, I never believed that was possible. For most of my adult life, I've accepted the incredibly durable myth that some people are born with special talents and gifts, and that the potential to truly excel in any given pursuit is largely determined by our genetic inheritance.

During the past year, I've read no fewer than five books — and a raft of scientific research — which powerfully challenge that assumption (see below for a list). I've also written one, The Way We're Working Isn't Working, which lays out a guide, grounded in the science of high performance, to systematically building your capacity physically, emotionally, mentally, and spiritually.

We've found, in our work with executives at dozens of organizations, that it's possible to build any given skill or capacity in the same systematic way we do a muscle: push past your comfort zone, and then rest. Aristotle Will Durant*, commenting on Aristotle, pointed out that the philosopher had it exactly right 2000 years ago: "We are what we repeatedly do." By relying on highly specific practices, we've seen our clients dramatically improve skills ranging from empathy, to focus, to creativity, to summoning positive emotions, to deeply relaxing.

Like everyone who studies performance, I'm indebted to the extraordinary Anders Ericsson, arguably the world's leading researcher into high performance. For more than two decades, Ericsson has been making the case that it's not inherited talent which determines how good we become at something, but rather how hard we're willing to work — something he calls "deliberate practice." Numerous researchers now agree that 10,000 hours of such practice is the minimum necessary to achieve expertise in any complex domain.

That notion is wonderfully empowering. It suggests we have remarkable capacity to influence our own outcomes. But that's also daunting. One of Ericsson's central findings is that practice is not only the most important ingredient in achieving excellence, but also the most difficult and the least intrinsically enjoyable.

If you want to be really good at something, it's going to involve relentlessly pushing past your comfort zone, as well as frustration, struggle, setbacks and failures. That's true as long as you want to continue to improve, or even maintain a high level of excellence. The reward is that being really good at something you've earned through your own hard work can be immensely satisfying.

Here, then, are the six keys to achieving excellence we've found are most effective for our clients:

1.Pursue what you love. Passion is an incredible motivator. It fuels focus, resilience, and perseverance.

2.Do the hardest work first. We all move instinctively toward pleasure and away from pain. Most great performers, Ericsson and others have found, delay gratification and take on the difficult work of practice in the mornings, before they do anything else. That's when most of us have the most energy and the fewest distractions.

3.Practice intensely, without interruption for short periods of no longer than 90 minutes and then take a break. Ninety minutes appears to be the maximum amount of time that we can bring the highest level of focus to any given activity. The evidence is equally strong that great performers practice no more than 4 ½ hours a day.

4.Seek expert feedback, in intermittent doses. The simpler and more precise the feedback, the more equipped you are to make adjustments. Too much feedback, too continuously can create cognitive overload, increase anxiety, and interfere with learning.

5.Take regular renewal breaks. Relaxing after intense effort not only provides an opportunity to rejuvenate, but also to metabolize and embed learning. It's also during rest that the right hemisphere becomes more dominant, which can lead to creative breakthroughs.

6.Ritualize practice. Will and discipline are wildly overrated. As the researcher Roy Baumeister has found, none of us have very much of it. The best way to insure you'll take on difficult tasks is to build rituals — specific, inviolable times at which you do them, so that over time you do them without having to squander energy thinking about them.

I have practiced tennis deliberately over the years, but never for the several hours a day required to achieve a truly high level of excellence. What's changed is that I don't berate myself any longer for falling short. I know exactly what it would take to get to that level.

I've got too many other higher priorities to give tennis that attention right now. But I find it incredibly exciting to know that I'm still capable of getting far better at tennis — or at anything else — and so are you.