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The Value of Deliberate Practice

At one point in my life, I dabbled in pottery making.  I fell in love with pottery making before I even knew how to do it and decided that this was going to be my craft.  So I bought a book on pottery making.  But there, in the chapter on throwing pots, the author said something about needing to throw a hundred pots before you can even master the first shape (the cylinder).  A hundred pots just to master one shape?  This clearly didn’t apply to me.

So I learned how to throw the clay onto the wheel and form a cylinder.  It was hard and messy and the results were predictably amateurish: a bowl that I made had a thicker wall on one side and a thinner wall on the other; the teapot that I made out of coils of clay was lopsided and reminded me of a gnome’s hat for some reason (not an effect I was going for).  So I dropped pottery making and moved on to yet another hobby that would surely be easier to master.

I used to believe that if you have talent, then it’s easy to create the piece of art you envision.  If I could only find the perfect medium — clay or watercolors or stained glass or whatever — I would create the beautiful pieces of artwork I saw in my mind.  But every medium that I tried proved to be horribly flawed: Clay was messy, stained glass was brittle and unforgiving, watercolor was… well, watery.  Twenty years and twenty abandoned hobbies later, I’ve begun to realize that my premise was not true.  Mastering a craft or a hobby is anything but easy and talent plays but a small part in the process. 

So, what is the key to a perfectly thrown pot with even walls?  Or a perfect golf swing?  Or becoming a world chess champion?  Not surprisingly, it’s practice.  But not just any kind of practice.  Ericsson calls it “deliberate practice.”  Just practicing for many years and gaining experience doesn’t guarantee a better performance.  There are plenty of people with decades of experience in their fields who don’t outperform novices.

Deliberate practice involves specifically practicing the hardest skills in a structured manner meant to stretch you beyond your current abilities.  For athletes or musicians, the coach might set lessons that get progressively harder.  The figure skater must practice the same jump 200 times until it is flawless; the pianist must practice each piece until the nuances of the music are just right. 

It’s always tempting to practice what you’re already good at but experts resist doing that.  Instead, they practice the skills that will push them to the next level of performance.  What separates the experts from the amateurs is the way in which they practice.  Amateurs either don’t practice in a way that would constantly push their skills further and further or they focus on perfecting that which they are already good at.  Experts, on the other hand, practice the most difficult skill over and over again, each time pushing the practice further. Ericsson says that the practice should never get easier; if it does, it means the person is coasting, not improving.

Why don’t more people do this kind of deliberate practice?  Because it’s hard.  It’s the kind of practice that requires a lot of exertion, leads to repeated failure and the reward is perhaps a 1% improvement.  A lot of people don’t want to work for a 1% improvement.  But it’s that 1% improvement - a tenth of a second faster for a swimmer or an extra jump for the figure skater — that will separate the gold medalist from the silver medalist.

What hobby or craft or sport are you trying to master?  Realize that it’s not talent that will get you to the top.  Instead, it’s practice… deliberate practice.

The Problem With Self-Control

Self-control (or willpower) sounds great on paper, that is until you actually have to summon it to accomplish something you’re not really motivated to do, such as change a bad habit.  It works just fine once or twice or even ten times, but pretty soon, when motivation wears off, self-control vanishes too.

Why is this? Why would self-control be so difficult to call upon time and time again?  Wouldn’t it be great if you could just tell yourself that you’re going to exercise three times a week for the rest of your life and actually do that?

Before delving into this, what is self-control?  “Self-control is the ability to control or override one’s thoughts, emotions, urges, and behavior,” (Gailliot et al., 2007).  Self-control is involved in a lot of daily behaviors such as refraining from overspending, suppressing stereotypes and prejudice, coping with fears, and restraining aggression.  However, using self-control is not without great cost.  According to a growing body of research led by Baumeister, exercising self-control uses glucose, which is the body’s fuel.  Our bodies run on glucose and therefore, our brains do too.  Our brains are expensive though, using 20% of the calories we consume while accounting for only 2% of body mass. 

The research suggests that glucose is not exactly used uniformly in the brain; that some mental tasks use more glucose than do other mental tasks.  Mental tasks that are effortful, but not ones that are automatic, use up lots of glucose.  Self-control is one of the most effortful tasks, requiring you to suppress an impulse or resist performing some behavior.  Automatic or habitual behaviors are not effortful and likely use much less glucose.

Since a single act of self-control uses up lots of glucose, the glucose gets depleted, leaving little glucose available for further acts of self-control, even across different domains of life.  So, once you’ve exercised your self-control resisting telling your boss that he’s an idiot, you have no resources left to control your temper when you get home from work and see a mess left on the floor by your kid.  Your glucose was depleted during the first act of self-control and now you have little left for further acts of self-control. 

In the studies that Gailliot et al. have conducted, to overcome the depletion of glucose, after an initial act of self-control, they give some participants a sugary drink (Kool-Aid with sugar).  Those who are given the sugary drink are able to exercise self-control on subsequent tasks or persist longer on frustrating tasks whereas those who are given the placebo drink (Kool-Aid sweetened with Splenda) fail at further acts of self-control and quit working on frustrating tasks sooner. 

People also differ in how efficiently they use glucose and thus, how well they are able to exercise self-control.  Diabetics and those who are unable to use glucose efficiently (those with poor glucose tolerance) are less able to exert self-control than those who are not diabetic or who have normal glucose tolerance.

The implication seems to be that eating (or drinking) restores glucose, which is then available for further acts of self-control.  In the studies that the researchers conduct, they use sugary drinks to quickly increase participants’ glucose levels, but in real life, this isn’t the healthiest way to get more glucose into the bloodstream.  I am not an expert in this but my understanding is that eating something sugary causes a spike in glucose levels and then a “crash.”  It might be better to eat foods that provide a steady release of glucose.

What the research findings suggest to me is that you can exercise self-control when trying to change a habit but it would require you to constantly replenish your stores of fuel before the intended act of self-control in order to be successful.