Winning the Inner Game

Anonymous

 

 The outer game is what we see on the surface. The inner game is infinitely more complex; and here are four ways to help you master it.

One of the most uplifting films in the past six months that I have watched must be Bhaag Milkha Bhaag or ‘Run, Milkha, Run’—a Bollywood biopic that’s regarded as a box-office and critical hit. Director Rakeysh Mehra’s treatment of the life of one of India’s greatest athletes is not novel, but the production quality, pacing and characterizations made this film an outstanding one for me. More pertinently, the crux of the film and on which the narrative lay, was Milkha’s failure in the Rome Olympics, as well as his refusal to run in Pakistan in the Indo-Pak friendship games after that failure. The plot reveals both his phobia of returning to Pakistan, having witnessed the killing of family members in the Partition in 1947, as well as his failure in Rome from a tactical error.

Watching this movie shortly after my ski trip to Japan recently, I could not help explore the importance of winning the inner game; in order to win the outer game. The outer game is what we see on the surface of life and manifested by a variety of means, which include but are not limited to honours, medals, winning races, and other such physical symbols of achievement and success. The inner game is infinitely more complex; and here are just four ways to help you master it.

After skiing to a reasonable standard in 1990 I spent a grand total of three days thereafter, skiing—and those three days were spread across 24 years. So saying I was a bit ‘rusty’ would be an understatement when I went to Japan to have a four-day ski trip. Skiing is a gravity sport which I enjoy but am not very good at. Again, the outer game of skiing looks simple—you strap on some composite material planks on your feet and you control your descent down mountain slopes. On videos and photos, it all looks so easy and elegant. In reality, you experience sudden stops, falls, even what we call ‘wipe-outs’ where you tumble in an eggbeater fashion throwing up a lot of snow and usually losing a ski in the process. Unlike running, it is also counter-intuitive.

After a painful first day of bumps and falls and the regaining of some technique and pride, I hired a ski instructor on the second day for two hours to improve my technique—my first actual formal ski lesson in my life.

Within minutes, he could see what I needed to do: place more weight on my toes and the front of the skis, and, to ski wider turns to create more controllable turns. Within an hour, I was skiing a 100 per cent better. In the same afternoon and on my own, I went and skied technically harder runs, without a single fall.

Here are some thoughts about winning the inner game that may well apply broadly to many readers here:
1) Learn to unlearn, in order to improve—as in skiing, we have to consider unlearning bad habits; made harder if the behaviours seem intuitively comfortable and productive. In the film, and possibly a true recreation of an incident, Milkha had to stop running barefoot if he was to get faster as a sprinter; something the village-raised man found hard to do.

2) It’s never too late to clear the past—I had to learn how to forget how good I used to be, in order to learn how to ski within my present constraints which now include having a disabled right leg. In the film Milkha is shown to be fighting his inner demons from his childhood, and only the complete focus on the Indo-Pak games, and the will to overcome these perceived fears, allowed him to succeed and beat his arch rival.

3) Get help if you need it—Being an experienced expedition mountaineer and skier in the past thus in no way discouraged me from having my first formal lesson in skiing when I needed one. Very much like the people who hire me observe your habits, both the good and unproductive ones. By being open to coaching, we can confront and overcome many of our inner game demons. Coaching by far, and as proven by several studies beginning with the Manchester Inc. in 2001 shows a 600 per cent return-on-investment on coaching. This is supported by findings at Xerox that suggest that without effective coaching, less than two per cent of what is learned is actively transferred to the workplace.

4) Learn to fall—Unless you are willing to fail and learn how do something better the next time, you’re not ready to be as successful as you deserve to be. In skiing, falling means you’re willing to push the envelope of your skills, make mistakes, and with focus, return to the mountains and succeed again. Learning to fall also means, you’ve prepared a way, a technique, in advance of a fall, so that each fall will not be fatal or very harmful. Once again, it’s winning the inner game that wins you the outer game.
Coaching