Two Learnings about Imposter Syndrome from Sports
Sports analogies are everything I hate about leadership. I joke with others about “giving it 110% day in and day out” and other tired phrases we hear personally and in business that derive from sports and sports leadership. But I’m an avid volleyball fan. When the US Women’s team started their run-up to their eventual Gold Medal in 2021, I was glued to every match.
This is the best team they’ve put together and they had an incredible run. Going into the Gold Medal match against the always dangerous and excellent Brazil, there was a featurette in which several previous professional/Olympic players offered well-wishes and cheers. It was pretty standard “you got this” fare until someone said something that’s stuck with me ever since:
Trust your body of work
I absolutely love this advice. Your body of work is something you can reflect on and understand objectively–the milestones, the failures, the practice, and the work–it’s yours. You are where you are because of your body of work. You must understand that body of work and trust that it has value and worth. Your body of work will change as you grow, too–so if you don’t feel like you’re where you need to be, there’s always more growth, work, practice, and failure. Embrace it with trust.
If you don’t have it by now, you don’t have it
My second anecdote comes from Charm La’Donna, one of the best choreographers to ever do it. The story was from behind the scenes, maybe 20 minutes before her dancers were set to go on the stage. You can see them practicing their moves. She says to the dancers:
If you don’t have it by now, you don’t have it!
My first reaction was, “damn, that’s kinda harsh,”–but the more I sat with it, the more I realized she wasn’t dunking on their readiness but rather the amount of practice and routine they put into it. They have it because they’ve designed an automatic structure and routine when they start their performance. These professional dancers have learned that quality comes from doing the work, failing small before getting out on stage.
When you watch any skilled professional–whether it be these dancers, an artist, a musician–we don’t see the amount of practice that went into their work. We don’t see their drafts, failures, anxiety, or things they’ve surely felt. We see their best, the product of many efforts we can’t observe. It is both learned and practiced with intent.
The key is making it automatic—not perfect, but automatic. Note that I’m not saying perfect–we don’t aspire to perfection because our stakes rarely require it.
Times I didn’t have it
My lack of practice put my life at risk in my first triathlon. I entered the water in Santa Cruz, having done four total long-distance swims, with the swim leg being just 3/4s of a mile in the ocean. Within 200 yards, my heart rate was at 195bpm. As I was getting kicked in the face and swimming through waves, panic kicked in, and I seriously thought I could drown. I stopped, took inventory of my surroundings, and slowly resumed the course. As I passed the halfway point, my left leg began to cramp. My right leg followed shortly after, and the volunteers wanted to pull me out.
I decided to stay in and use my arms the rest of the way. After being horizontal in the water for close to an hour, I stumbled onto the sand, disoriented and in severe pain from the cramps in my legs. It’s not like I needed those for the cycling or run portion, but I made it—barely. It’s simply hubris and reckless to go into a situation without being prepared. I should’ve known that the water is so cold that you resist putting your head down when swimming, which pulls your entire torso down and creates drag. Had I practiced in the wetsuit, I’d know that the compression makes everything more difficult and more prone to cramping. I would have paced myself to keep my heart rate where it should be instead of just winging it. The next year, I knocked 40 minutes off my previous time just through practice. The race felt automatic. But enough sports, this stuff matters professionally too.
Public speaking comes immediately to mind. My public speaking course was one of the most eye-opening experiences I’ve ever gone through. I remember thinking, “I speak in public all the time; this should be easy.” I realized how wrong I was as I sat watching a recording of me having a full meltdown during my first speaking assignment for our class. I learned that I didn’t have it–I didn’t practice enough, prepare, or take the steps I needed to be ready, and it certainly wasn’t automatic. I didn’t make space for myself to fail small; instead, I failed in front of about 30 people. It was tough, but I needed to give myself feedback and do better. I made absolutely sure I had it the next time. You have to get after it.
I share these because I firmly believe that understanding your work and putting intent into it changes how you show up. Everyone feels that creeping self-doubt, and there are ways we can give ourselves feedback and routines to fight it. So, if you feel that way, start by interrupting it and telling yourself to trust your body of work. Then, think about ways you can make your work feel more automatic.