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Category Archives: Exercise

If you want to fail, simply have lots and lots of choices: Hicks’ Law Revisited

When learning skills and ingraining them as muscle memory or autopilot responses, it is important that only one way be taught. W.E. Hicks’ 1952 study found that as possible responses increased from one to two, reaction time increased by 58 percent. In other words, having to choose between options takes time, and the more options you have, the greater the reaction time. This is often referred to as “Hicks’ Law“, but Sun Tzu said the same thing many centuries ago: “The more possibilities you present to the enemy, the more diffuse he is forced to become. The more diffuse he becomes, the more difficult it is for him to concentrate sufficiently to make a successful attack.” … Thus, a simple set of skills, combined with an emphasis on actions requiring complex and gross motor muscle operations (as opposed to fine-motor control), all extensively rehearsed, allows for extraordinary performance levels under stress. 

The above is an excerpt from Dave Grossman‘s On Combat book. My brother is a police officer outside of Atlanta, and his area of expertise (keeping the peace) is very different from mine (performance enhancement). However, this book sort of brought our two professional worlds together. He loaned it to me, and although it’s taken close to two years to read the first seventy pages, I’m finally into it and discovering some really interesting parallel’s between sport/exercise and police work/combat (so expect additional posts in the future regarding other interesting tidbits from this book).

Let’s focus on one particular line in this quote: “… having to choose between options takes time, and the more options you have, the greater the reaction time.” This is great stuff for coaches to remember – if you want your athletes to fail, simply give them lots and lots of choices. The same can be said for commanding officers and their soldiers, or even parents and their children. For example, I’ve noticed this phenomenon with my (almost) five-year-old son, Malachi. If he wants to eat some cereal for breakfast, I might say, “Malachi, do you want Life, Cheerios, Rice Krispies, or Kix?” He takes an extraordinarily long time to answer. Sometimes that’s frustrating to me because I just want to grab a box of cereal out of the pantry and be done with it. But it takes his little brain a (relatively) massive amount of time to sort through all of those options and determine which cereal to choose. When he is presented with only two options, his answer is much quicker and usually more confident.

You’ve seen this play itself out in sports: All baseball stadiums have eliminated any color or movement from the outfield wall directly behind the pitcher’s mound. Why? The batter has a hard enough time trying to detect the baseball coming out of the pitcher’s hand and determining if he should swing or not and doesn’t need additional stimuli from centerfield. Think of the basketball free throw, as illustrated in the photo. The additional stimulus of the fat man doing the hula might distract the shooter, giving him additional things to think about which might compromise his shot.

Obviously, choosing a cereal (or a TV show, or a movie, or which toy to play with, or which t-shirt to wear) is of very low consequence. Nothing of value is lost because of a delay in reaction. But what if the setting is more important? And it’s good to note that “importance” is a relative term: a sport event is more important than cereal; a police officer deciding whether he should shoot or not is MUCH more important than a sport event. Hick’s Law doesn’t discuss this, but I wonder if the relative level of importance also plays a role in one’s ability to maximize reaction time.

The bottom line is this: when it comes to providing multiple options in which a quick reaction is desired, use the KISS method – keep it simple. The best way to keep it simple is to actively manage (i.e, minimize) the number of options that are available. And keep this in mind: you perform like you practice. So if you practice, whether as an athlete, police officer, fireman, etc., using the KISS method but then the expectation during performance is that you’ll be able to manage multiple, often conflicting, options, your chances of successfully completing the performance are drastically reduced. Keep it simple and practice like you’ll performance.

What do you think?

An example of poor reaction time. Did too many stimuli play a role?

 

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‘other guys’…and what might motivate them

While doing a review for a new wellness textbook by McGraw-Hill, a thought struck me about how hard it is to motivate college students to maintain their physical health through regular exercise and appropriate eating habits. I’ve studied motivation for several years, and my master’s thesis is actually on the subject of exercise adherence … yet, the drive (or lack thereof) of the typical college student to be physically healthy is a conundrum to me. I mean, I understand the motivation on athletes and those who adhere to exercise … but what about the other guys (and gals)? What’s holding them back? I decided to consult one of my most trusted students, Todd Fiedler, and get his opinion on the subject. What follows is mostly his commentary on my idea. I think it’s rather insightful, and I hope it will generate some good discussion in the blogosphere.

A Fiedler original

(First, to set the tone, a little background on Todd and me: He just finished his third year at Huntington University in my Applied Exercise Science program. He is an excellent athlete, a top-notch student, and a budding scholar. Last January he co-taught an off-campus course with me and another student leader, Molly [read a little about her, and a short mention about him, here], which was a resounding success. Todd and I presented some original research at a conference in June of this year about the wellness habits of a particular professional organization. He is a runner and thrower on our intercollegiate track & field team, teaches fitness classes for the University’s Recreation Sports program, and just completed a great internship in strength and conditioning in Arizona. He is also a talented artist; I’ve provided a sample of his work – this logo was designed for a wellness fair, F.I.T.T. Fest, that my senior students put on every spring. I count him as a friend and someone whom I can bounce professional ideas off of. He’s one of those rare individuals who doesn’t need Facebook or Twitter to feel significant, and if you’re really interested in learning more about him, you can follow his blog, My Quest Towards Personal Excellence and/or YouTube feed.)

My initial thought for Todd:
In wellness, it’s not unusual to try to motivate people to be more healthy by emphasizing the problems with inactivity and disease. It’s basically a motivation by fear. I wonder what would be a better motivator: fear or the opportunity for success. We could simply ask people in a series of questions something like: Of the two, which is more motivating for you: a) heart disease is the leading cause of death in America, or b) individuals with
 a high VO2max are capable of doing countless activities without tiring or fatiguing. (Something like that.)

Todd’s response:
I think any time you can appeal to both logic and emotion, the impact is going to be much greater, in this case, positive. I’m a big fan of not re-inventing the wheel, so when I read your e-mail, a few companies/ advertisements popped into my head:

  1. There is one commercial about diabetes with a black lady on an exercise bike. You’ve probably seen it. She’s working hard and sweating, suddenly she stops and has a daydream about what her family’s life  would be like without her. She pictures her kids at her grave stone. I think the slogan is… ‘Diabetes doesn’t wait for tomorrow’. After this she is motived to keep exercising, so she smiles and starts biking even harder this time.
  2. Other commercials include ones for like arthritis where people can’t do anything and then they take certain medication which allows them to exercise and play with their grandkids and pets.

With positive motivation being both logic and emotional, we need to think about men (mostly motivated by logic) and women (mostly motivated by emotion). That’s why I think incorporating both is very important. The things I listed above are pretty much on the emotional side of things, and although compelling, I’m not extremely motivated by them. Could be because I’m already fit, or maybe because I’m a man.

Also, I think we need to take into account that there are some students in wellness and life that just don’t really care to be fit or don’t want to travel, hike, or be always active. For us it’s easy…we want to be in great shape, athletic, always going going going, and healthy. Some…a lot of students…don’t care about sports or exercising a lot. They might not even consider a pick up game of basketball entertaining. But, I think we athletic crowd meet the others at ‘healthy’. I think everyone wants to be healthy in some sense of the word. I think a lot of people feel healthy that don’t meet all of the standards and guidelines too. So, when I look at question b), I think for myself, “yeah, that’s a great motivation!”…but when I look through the lens of the ‘other guy’ I think… “so what? I’m never tired or fatigued because I don’t run around doing a bunch of time-consuming exercise or boring sports, and I’m in great health. I don’t have heart disease or high blood pressure, and I don’t eat a ton of junk.”

As a student, I know there are a lot of other students that fall into the ‘other guy’ category. At least at HU, which may or may not be a fair representation of college aged students. Which is who this wellness textbook review is for right? I think the idea you have with positive motivation is the right one. As long as it appeals to logic and emotion, females and males, exercisers and ‘other guys’. So you’ll have to decide if you realize you’re not going to reach a large group of people OR if you want to reach the ‘other guys’…the motive questions are going to have to be much different than you or I might come up with ourselves.

I hope that makes sense or helps at all. It’s just over the last few years, I’ve sat in class and read these books and seen more than half of my classmates look at statistics, questions, and facts and go…’who cares’. And I think it’s because nobody think of them…’other guys’…and what might motivate them. All these books are written with a sport/athletic/exercise mentality by people who are from that background. Which is ironic because since they are not one of those people who they are trying to motivate (the obese, diseased, un-fit), they are blind and cannot actually reach/motivate that group. I’d like to see a wellness book written by on of the ‘other guys’. 🙂

I also think motivation doesn’t last long meaning student’s are really only concerned with the now. They realize most of the benefits of exercise/healthy eating for the future…but they really only care what it’s going to do for them now.

 
 

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Introducing the Athleciser

What is an athlete? How does that differ from an exerciser?

These questions are certainly as much philosophical as practical. I ask from a more pragmatic standpoint, particularly considering my occupation in academics and research. In research it is vital for a word to have a precise definition so that the word can be quantified and differentiated from other similar terms. For example, what is the difference between health, wellness, and fitness? How do the terms physical activity and exercise vary? Does public health differ from community health? For this writing, you might have to take my word for it that these examples have precise, quantifiable meanings that differentiate them from each other. Perhaps a future post can explore the differences.

What interests me is how we differentiate between an athlete, an exerciser, and anything in between. In particular, what do we call someone who finishes his/her athletic career either following high school or college? Is that person still an athlete? Or is s/he “reduced” to an exerciser? Does it matter? (Yes – or course it matters … well, it matters to some people at least.)

The definition of an exerciser is relatively straightforward. An exerciser is simply an individual who engages in exercise. Athletics can usually be included as a subset of exercise (I say “usually” because some, like ESPN, consider, for example, poker playing a sport and by necessary extension, poker players as athletes …. also a topic for another time), so athletes are actually a specialized form of exercisers, probably similar to how you would consider a quarterback a specialized form of a football player. You could also think of it this way: all athletes are exercisers, but not exercisers are athletes (the parallel being that all quarterbacks are football players, but not all football players are quarterbacks).

There is a quantifiable difference between an athlete and an exerciser. While Merriam-Webster, whom I assume is an authority on such things, defines an athlete as one who is “trained or skilled in exercises, sports, or games requiring physical strength, agility, or stamina”, I think professionals who study sport and exercise, such as myself, would also include an important qualifier to that definition: to be considered an athlete, the individual must participate in athletic events, either as an individual (think track, tennis, swimming, or golf) or as part of a team (such as baseball, basketball, etc.). This is an important distinction because without a team to play with/on/for or without an athletic event in which to compete, can this individual still be considered an athlete? Or are they merely someone who is athletic? The origin of the word “athlete” supports my contention that to be defined as an athlete, one must be “actively competing for a prize”. If one is not on a team or engaged in training for an athletic event, are they actively competing for a prize as the origin of the word suggests? (The answer is no.) And if they are not actively competing for a prize, it is my contention that they cannot be considered an athlete. Now, there is probably a little bit of allowable leeway for athletes who are injured or out of season and unable to participate, but at the same time, to be defined as an athlete, one must have more than a tenuous future inclination or intention to participate or compete.

So, to summarize this point, to be defined as an athlete one must be trained or skilled in exercises, sports, or games requiring physical strength, agility, or stamina AND be actively preparing for, or recovering from, an athletic competition with the intention, means, and motivation to reengage in competition in the foreseeable future. I’ll concede that my definition could be viewed as cumbersome, but I think it’s important to be as precise as possible, particularly if engaging in research and attempting to define and operationalize terms and variables.

Which brings me to the heart of this essay: What do we call the individual who is clearly highly athletic because s/he recently completed his/her athletic career OR because s/he maintains a substantially high level of athletic ability and training? An athlete? An exerciser? I maintain that this person cannot be defined as an athlete (for the reasons listed above), but I also submit that this person is probably more “advanced” than a simple exerciser and is therefore quantifiably different and distinct from an exerciser. Therefore, I propose the creation of a third category, called the athleciser.

I’ve been talking about this concept with student in my exercise science program for several years now. The need for such a term became apparent when one of my students, Katie, stopped participating on the University’s track team. She maintained her high level of training and fitness, and the only quantifiable difference between her and the others on the track team was the fact that she was not actively competing on a team. If you compared her level of ability (particularly in running) and fitness, measured by VO2max, body fat percentage, etc., she was at or beyond the level of her counterparts working out in the weight room (her counterparts in this case being exercisers). Another student, Travis, played baseball for the University team and suffered a season-ending injury to his knee, and in his case, it ended his athletic career because he was a senior at the time of the injury. If you measured his muscular strength, he would be comparable to other collegiate athletes and well beyond the norms of any exerciser. So why not just call both of these individuals athletes and be done with it? Well, because of the definition of an athlete – neither were pursuing competition for a prize of some sort. However, they were also, physically-speaking, well beyond what one would consider a typical exerciser. Thus the need for, and the practical use of, the term athleciser.

There is a potential weakness to this term. While I am very comfortable with the “upper-end”, it becomes a little more difficult determining how far an athleciser has to “fall” before s/he becomes a quantifiable exerciser. From a research perspective, one could operationalize the lower-end of the athleciser spectrum as someone who falls more than, say, one standard deviations below a reference athlete in terms of cardiovascular fitness, muscular strength, muscular endurance, body composition, etc. Obviously, this cut-off would need to be exact for the sake of precision, but my major concern at this point is getting the term “athleciser” out there for critique and discussion. We can always revisit the final details at a future time.

Let me summarize what we know about an athleciser: 1) an athleciser must be a former athlete. This is an important point that shouldn’t be overlooked – I contend that one cannot be an athleciser if one has never been an athlete. Think of a definitional continuum that looks like this:

|—————————————————————-|——————————-|————————-|

Exerciser                                                                           Athleciser                       Athlete

It only works from right to left. That is, one must “max out” as an athlete and work (or un-work, as it were) his/her way back to the left into the athleciser zone and potentially back into the exerciser zone if s/he drops below the lower-bounds of an athleciser (whatever that lower-bound may actually be). 2) The break or cut-off between athlete and athleciser is the cessation of participating in (or active preparation for) an athletic event (race, meet, match, game, etc.). This will usually be caused by a career ending injury, “retirement” from the sport, and/or quitting the sport. 3) The ability and training of an athleciser is not distinct from that of an athlete. 4) The cut-off between an athleciser and exerciser is bound to both ability and training. While ability might be a bit nebulous, training is measured by strength, endurance, etc. At this point, the precise cut-off is still in question.

So in a nutshell, there it is. I understand that there are weaknesses to my idea, and I welcome comments, suggestions, ideas, and improvements. As someone who loves sport and exercise, my only intention is to help us understand this area in a more complete manner. Many of my students who played college sports and saw their playing days come to an end have embraced their transition from athlete to athleciser. They wear it as a badge of honor, and that’s pretty cool.

 
 

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