In my time at Northwestern, our coaches stressed the value of developing mental strength equally to if not more so than physical fitness. From guided meditation sessions to team book assignments to goal-setting journals, they regularly provided us with new opportunities to flex our mental muscle to grow as a team and as individuals, both on and off the field.
As with anything else, you get out what you put in.
So in my junior year, when the coaches first tasked us with creating our own personal mantras, I was off to the races in a caption contest party of one. I wrote an exhaustive list of pithy phrases and affirmations that I believed captured the essence of my mentality and would unlock the gates to my untapped potential. I was so eager to test out my favorites the following day at practice, and rotated through the shortlist only to find that not a single option felt right.
What else to do but return to the drawing board, this time with a different approach.
I spent our next few training sessions noting moments of the day when I felt like I wasn’t performing at my best. Like in a set of six 300s, when I coasted on the fourth run to catch my breath so I could finish fast on the last two, or the minute I was thinking about an exam during an explanation of a drill and ended up wasting the first repetition for myself and my teammates for a careless error. Even when I tweaked my herniated disc in a drill and spent the next few plays shying away from contact. And again in post-practice recovery, when the risk of reinjury made me question the strength and stability I just spent months rebuilding.
When I returned to my mantra project, I had a better understanding of the outcome I was looking to achieve. I needed something that could ground me in the moment and refocus my full attention and effort to the present.
“One at a time.”
It was simple, but it worked for me. I could activate it whenever I needed it. On the line before a laundry list of sprints? One at a time. Looking ahead to days of exhausting and sometimes painful physical therapy sessions? One at a time. At first I had to train myself – identify the need, give the cue, receive the cue, react. Over time, what once felt very manufactured became natural. I was calmer in high-pressure situations. My fitness times improved. I was lighter.
A few months later when we entered the season, it became clear to me how mantras and other expressions of positive self-talk can be super flexible and responsive, when after all of that discovery work, I switched it.
Had I fundamentally changed as a human? No. But my needs changed, so naturally, my mantra did as well.
As daily wear and tear started to set in, I needed something to keep me going. My mind and my body. I wrote “RUN” on my wrist every day that spring. Clearing the ball with five people on you? Run. (Also probably pick your head up, but at the very least just keep your feet moving.)
That summer when I returned home for break, I experienced another phase – not being able to tap into the external motivation from an endless supply of teammates. So I changed it again to dig from within.
Maintaining an awareness of my needs and crafting messaging around them helped me to perform and achieve on the field, and the benefits extend into other aspects of my life. From high-stress professional moments like interviews or presentations, to recreational activities like singing at an open mic, self-affirmations help anchor me in my identity, my preparation and my purpose. In moments of uncertainty or doubt, positive self-talk gives me the confidence to break through and the ability to quickly and confidently pivot when things don’t go exactly as planned.