The Resistance

Pivoting toward alternative motions isn’t easy. There seems to be a resistance that shows up when a choice has to be made, and that force is mentally exhausting. Sometimes, I think I misinterpret my own thoughts and feelings when a moment occurs that presents a seemingly easy choice (same old motions) and a hard choice (alternative motion).

Alternative Motions bring discomfort, but that’s where real growth happens. Growth occurs when we face discomfort head-on and lean into it.

Doesn’t sound fun, does it? Well, it’s not. I don’t think it’s supposed to be.

The Cost of Caring

Discomfort can present itself in a variety of ways, and how we interpret it is important. One of my professors in my grad program said that anxiety and nerves before a performance show that you care. That interpretation has stuck with me, partly because it seemed profound and also because I didn’t really understand it.

If anxiety brings discomfort, yet having anxiety means that I care—which is fundamentally good—does that imply it’s “good” to have anxiety? It feels like a riddle. Make that make sense. Honestly, the mind makes it more complex than it needs to be. Taking what we’ve discussed about values can help clear the air.

If I didn't value the game, I wouldn't feel the nerves or the anxiety. Whether it’s the physical rush of adrenaline or the mental worry of messing up, the feeling is proof of the value.

Performance anxiety, stress, doubt, and guilt are all common passengers on this journey. Think about the moments before the whistle blows or the first serve is hit. The butterflies, the racing heart, the tightness in the chest—we usually label these sensations as "bad." However, the discomfort is actually a direct result of moving toward my values. That distinction threw me for a loop.

The Entry Ticket

Isn’t living by your values supposed to feel good? Shouldn’t values be within our comfort zone since they are what is best for us to move forward?

Surprisingly, no. Pain tells you that you are moving in the right direction; the direction of your values. That’s how we grow. Pain is part of the growth process. So does that mean I should always be enduring some form of pain so that I know I’m moving in alignment with my values? If so, why would I choose pain when I can be comfortable?

Here’s an interesting thought: Pain can be thought of as an entry ticket.

We purchase a ticket of pain to gain entry into a space where we live by our values. Our willingness to face the pain and lean into it allows us to move past it into a desirable performance.

Consider the physical grind of your sport. You don't want the burning in your lungs during sprints or the soreness after lifting. You’d prefer to be fresh. But you are willing to pay that price because you value the strength and endurance on the other side. The mental game is no different. I don't want to feel anxious or inadequate. But I am willing to sit with it if that’s the cost of entering the arena.

There are two important distinctions to make here.

First, willingness doesn't mean wanting. When you buy a ticket to a big game or concert, you don't want to part with your money. You’d prefer it were free. But you are willing to pay the price because you value the experience.

Second, willingness isn't tolerance. Tolerance is just gritting your teeth, holding your breath, and waiting for the feeling to pass. Tolerance is standing at the gate, holding the ticket, but refusing to go in because you hate the price. That's still a fight, and it’s exhausting. Willingness is different. It’s reaching into your pocket, paying the entry fee, and walking through the door. It’s reducing internal friction, allowing you to focus on the show.

The Quick Fix Trap

What if we aren’t willing to sit with the discomfort we have? What if we have a habit of pushing our discomfort down below the surface, running away from the bad feelings it brings, trying to fix our minds to stop thinking thoughts we don’t want to have, or creating a facade to hide the hurt (fake it ‘til you make it)?

In sports, this may look like playing timidly to avoid a mistake, blaming the ref to avoid looking at your own error, or mentally checking out when the score gets tight.

Those methods offer temporary relief because performing in a box provides immediate protection and safety. The detrimental part that goes unnoticed is how the “safe” behaviors restrict growth. It’s a cycle that repeats, and the kicker is that the pain seems to get worse. Avoiding the fear makes the fear stronger; the more you run, the scarier the fear gets. All pain, no growth.

So why would anyone use those methods to handle difficult situations? 

We love a quick fix. It’s so tempting to indulge in whichever method works to remove the pain as fast as it came. That is what going through the motions is. The downside is the relief never lasts.

Your Response is a Choice

Pain doesn’t cease to exist when we willingly choose to turn towards it and take a valued action. Pain is always going to come back around. That’s life. However, your response to pain is a choice.

Yeah, you have the choice of how pain impacts your life and behavior. Provocative, isn’t it? That claim bothered me when I first came across it. I always thought I had to try to change what my thoughts were, before I could move on. That process would usually lead to more frustration because forcing the thoughts away or fixing them didn’t work. Then, it was hard to move on from my frustration because I told myself I shouldn’t be frustrated. My attention was focused on what was going on in my head instead of the task I was performing. And guess what, my performance took a dive. And the cycle repeated.

Moving On

What’s the Alternative Motion we can take to break the cycle and keep us from getting stuck?

We’ve begun laying it out. We are critically choosing our values. We are willingly taking a seat with discomfort. These are pieces of the puzzle that can help separate us from the factors that harm performance.

Your task: Notice the times when you feel discomfort—nerves, doubt, or an urge to hide—try not to fight it. Pause and label it. Think of it as an entry ticket. Buy the ticket, take the feeling with you, and make your move.

But what happens when our thoughts are too loud? What do we do when the “entry ticket” seems less like a feeling and more like a screaming match in our head?

In the next journal, we’ll dive into the tool we can use for that exact moment: Defusion.

Thanks for learning with me,

-SPB

P.S. — My 1-on-1 coaching is built on this exact philosophy - we get to learn from one another. If this post resonated with you and you're curious about how these ideas could apply to your own life or performance, you can learn about my services or schedule a free 15-minute call.