Chapter 11
Timing
VALUE 3
No one knows who first coined the saying “Timing is everything.” It was probably Captain Obvious. We have all experienced the dramatic differences between good and bad timing, missed or perfect timing. It’s critical to comedy, politics, love, investments, apologies, introductions, and road-trip bathroom breaks. In such cases, timing refers to the particular point when something happens. Yet there is another characteristic of timing that makes it so important in the construction of one’s strengths.
Timing is also the careful balance of choices, judgment, and control of when something should or shouldn’t be done. These factors are not random and can be influenced. The opportunities cultivated, the quality of decisions made, the mindsets and skillsets mastered all require the kind of practice and patience only good timing allows.
The Power of Practice
It’s just so easy to say. We grew up hearing coaches shout it, music teachers share it, and math tutors repeat the same statement over and over again. Go ahead and say it with me now:
Practice makes ________________.
Did you complete the sentence with “perfect”? If so, oops. Sorry, but at no point in time has practice produced an actually perfect performance. This may feel like a slap in the face to those who also recall the false claim “Perfect practice produces perfect performance.” Despite the catchy flow of words starting with the letter P, “perfect” still isn’t possible.
By definition, perfect is determined by “having all the required or desirable elements, qualities, or characteristics; as good as it is possible to be.”1 “As good as it is possible to be” sounds rather absolute, doesn’t it? Aside from maybe a summertime sunset on a secluded beach, we rarely witness a performance that fits the description of “as good as it is possible to be.” Instead, we regularly experience performances that have gotten better from what was previously believed to be “as good as it is possible to be.” Thus, what was previously perceived as a perfect performance wasn’t really. Don’t get me wrong, the prior accomplishment was exceptional. Amazing, in fact. But if it really were perfect, would there be room for improvement? Technically, no. And it’s important to understand why not. Stick with me, I’ll show you why this distinction is so important.
We regularly acknowledge through another common saying that, on this side of paradise, perfect is out of reach. Seeking grace for failing to meet expectations, we’re quick to defend ourselves by stating, “Give me a break. After all, nobody is perfect.” And when you want another chance, you might say something like, “With some practice, I’ll do better next time.” Good. Now we are talking.
The truth is, practice does not make perfect. Instead, practice reveals three rules that, within the value of timing, set talents and training up to become strengths.
PRACTICE RULE #1
Practice does not make perfect. Practice makes better.
The “perfect” score of 10.0 for a single routine in artistic gymnastics was once considered an unobtainable Olympic dream. That is, until Romanian gymnast Nadia Comăneci scored a perfect 10.0 in the 1976 Montreal Olympic Games. As the fourteen-year-old Nadia stood confused by the scoreboard that read 1.0 (scoreboards weren’t even built to register anything greater than 9.99), little did she know the perfect score of 10.0 would be awarded to her six more times in those legendary Olympic Games. At the conclusion of the 1976 Games, the petite teen returned home to Romania a national hero, wearing three gold medals, a silver, and a bronze. But that’s not all. Four years later Nadia Comăneci returned to Olympic stardom when she competed in the 1980 Summer Olympics in Moscow. She once again wowed the world by earning two additional perfect 10.0 scores, two new gold medals, and two silver medals.
So how did she do it? If perfect isn’t possible, how did the little girl, whose mother described her as “a child who was so full of energy and active that she was difficult to manage,”2 earn a total of nine perfect scores of 10.0 in Olympic competition? Two of which were in the same event, in back-to-back Olympics! Don’t Nadia’s performances prove perfect really is possible? The answer comes from Nadia herself.
People ask me, what is the definition of perfection? I say, there is none. There is no definition of perfection. At some particular time, when I was fourteen years old, I’d done something people didn’t expect. I think it’s a ladder you climb in life and I got there first.3
The young Queen of the Beam got there first. In the eyes of her 1976 and 1980 Olympic judges, Nadia’s performances were considered as good as it has ever been, not as good as it is possible to be. This may sound like a subtle difference—“it has ever been” vs. “it is possible to be.” But this slight variation of thinking makes all the difference.
Between her 1976 Olympic performance and the 1980 games, Nadia practiced and practiced and practiced some more. And she got better. This made her 1980 perfect 10.0 performance even better than her previous 1976 perfect 10.0 performance. She earned a new 10.0 by performing better than it has ever been, thus demonstrating Practice Rule #1: Practice does not make perfect. Practice makes better.
PRACTICE RULE #2
Practice makes possible.
Do you know how many young people I’ve interviewed over the years who, when asked about their aspirations and future plans, reply with one of the three following answers? I am planning on becoming a professional athlete . . . a famous singer/musician . . . a millionaire YouTuber. The answer is thousands. Literally thousands of young people have given me one of those same three answers about what they hope to do one day.
Maybe you are not surprised by their aspirations. After all, who hasn’t imagined themselves living large? Especially when they were young. What I do find odd is how consistent they are in answering my follow-up comments this way:
Q: “What position do you play on the team?”
A: “Oh, I’m not on a team. I hate it how our coaches only play their favorite players, so I’m going to wait till college to play. Then I’m going to go pro in the draft.”
Q: “What instrument do you play?”
A: “I’d like to be a singer. I love to watch [fill in current popular TV talent show here]. My friends all say they would totally vote for me.”
Q: “Tell me about your YouTube channel.”
A: “I don’t have one. My parents won’t let me. They don’t believe me about how easy it is for gamers to make money on YouTube.”
Each of the above is a typical youthful response. The problem is, each lacks the same key component: practice. These young people are looking forward to exceptional outcomes without a commitment to repetitive rehearsal. Sure, they may think about it all the time, may have studied up and know all about it, and may even be able to technically explain the performance, but knowledge about doing something and actually being able to perform are very different. As we discussed in the chapter on training, one skill is passive learning and the other is active learning. While passive learning may gain a person increased knowledge of the subject, only active learning yields both knowledge and the experience needed to build the skills required to perform a task.
The difference between knowing and doing is obvious to anyone who has sat beside an armchair referee or couch coach while watching sports on TV. Convinced they know everything about the game, they yell commands through the screen at the players, referees, and professional coaching staff working the sidelines. Even though they haven’t been in a game since their junior varsity season, thirty-one years ago, they’re absolutely sure a winning way to the playoffs is still possible, if only they were leading the team. They “guarantee it!” The same can be said about a soon-to-be teen driver who tells their parents not to worry because they’ll be the best driver on the road. Even without a single mile behind the wheel, they truly believe those countless hours of simulated high-speed-driving video games are the same as real road time. The armchair politician, the DIY self-proclaimed real estate expert, and your Court TV–watching cousin’s legal advice may all sound good, but could these people actually walk the walk if required? Keep dreaming. The simple truth is, without practice dreams do not become reality. Not practicing is the same as not possible. This is why Practice Rule #2 is so important. Practice makes possible.
The big question is, how much practice does it take to make possible? That depends. Are we talking about the kind of practice required to hear “Congratulations on making the team,” or the kind of practice required to make Nadia Comăneci’s Olympic records possible?
In his 2008 bestselling book Outliers: The Story of Success, author Malcolm Gladwell writes about a study on stardom conducted by psychologist K. Anders Ericsson and two colleagues at the elite Academy of Music in Berlin, Germany. In the study, Ericsson cites that the Academy’s true “star” violinists had practiced an average of 10,000 hours by the time they were twenty years old.4 This 10,000-hours measure came to be what many believe is the magic number of practice hours required for mastery. It was even given the catchy title of the 10,000-Hour Rule. So popular is the 10,000-Hour Rule that it has become the time-measurable aspiration of many seeking to one day experience the very top of professional-level success. Unfortunately, there is nothing magical about 10,000 hours. The truth is, if a person starts off lacking raw talent, no amount of time accruing practice hours will make them number one.
When Malcolm Gladwell was asked, “What is the most common misunderstanding you encounter from people who have read Outliers?” his response helped clarify the myth of the 10,000-Hour Rule.
There is a lot of confusion about the 10,000 rule that I talk about in Outliers. It doesn’t apply to sports. And practice isn’t a SUFFICIENT condition for success. I could play chess for 100 years and I’ll never be a grandmaster. The point is simply that natural ability requires a huge investment of time in order to be made manifest. Unfortunately, sometimes complex ideas get oversimplified in translation.5
Malcom Gladwell’s statement reinforces what gym coaches, music teachers, and math tutors have known all along, yet rarely say to avoid the strafing of helicopter parents: it’s ineffective to use training to plug a talent gap. Natural ability is a prerequisite for top performers. Natural ability and time committed to practice make possible. Athletes who practice get to play in games, score points, and get recruited. Musicians who practice get to play in performances, win competitions, and record albums. Video gamers who practice get to win tournaments, gain followers, and earn ad revenue online.
Simply put, practice makes possible.
So what happens when we stop practicing? The answer is, Practice Rule #3 kicks in.
Practice does not make permanent.
In an interview for CNN’s Human to Hero series, the now-retired gymnast Nadia Comăneci commented on what we all know to be true about Practice Rule #3.
I remember everything, all the routines. I can’t do them anymore because I don’t practice anymore.6
To get her 10.0 scores, Nadia Comăneci committed herself to Practice Rule #1—Practice makes better—by averaging six to seven hours practicing a day, for years. With practice she got better, and Practice Rule #2—Practice makes possible—gave her the opportunity to compete before the entire world. Olympic stardom and the need to redesign scoreboards to display 10.0 followed. Then, as expected, when she spent less time in the gym, she began to experience Practice Rule #3—Practice does not make permanent.
Consider Rule #3 in your own life. Have you ever been asked to play a musical instrument you haven’t picked up in years? Tried to throw the ball after not playing more than fantasy sports since high school? Swung a hammer, delivered a speech, or attempted handwriting in cursive after not regularly repeating the practice for years? The results are not usually up to the quality we’d like to believe of our abilities, once upon a time.
The Importance of Patience
At about six years old, I remember standing at the end of the driveway waiting for the ice cream truck to turn down the street toward my grandparents’ house. With the sound of sweet summer joy still a full block away, I danced on the sidewalk with a dollar held like a baton in my little hand. I couldn’t wait to exchange it for my favorite hot-day treat—a cherry-and-pineapple-swirled frozen Missile Pop.
My anxious anticipation was obvious, and I can imagine only made bearable by how cute Grandma said I looked when I stood on my tiptoes, straining to see farther down the street. My adorableness must have worn thin, because my grandmother finally put her hand on my shoulder and said, “Just wait. It will be here soon. Patience is a virtue.”
I knew what patience meant, but not virtue. I hadn’t learned about that one yet. Patience I understood well, as I’d played the kids’ album Music Machine song “Patience (Herbert the Snail)” far too many times to count. I really liked the low voice of the slow snail as I sang along karaoke style to Herbert’s crooning about having patience, not being in a hurry, and how to avoid worry.
So yeah, patience I’d heard about, and I was running out of it waiting for that snail-paced ice cream truck. But virtue, that one was new to my six-year-old mind. Hoping her answer would speed up my frozen delivery, I asked my grandmother what virtue meant. She explained that virtue is a morally good quality in a person. “Like being a good boy,” she explained. So I must have caused my kind grandma slight concern when I turned to her and whined, “Then why can’t ‘hurry up’ be a virtue?” Still, she smiled and laughed one of her heartfelt chuckles. I liked hearing my grandma laugh, but in that moment, I liked seeing the ice cream truck rounding the corner even more.
Grandma was right, I just didn’t know it at the time. The ability to wait for something without getting angry or upset is an extremely valuable quality. The virtue of patience works in tandem with practice to improve both your mental and physical abilities. The more often your mind and body rehearse good performance, the more you can add to the performance. The more good timing you add to your performance, the greater your strength.
The practice and patience of timing is what separates those with head knowledge (passive learning) from those with real experience (active learning). Once-a-week guitar lessons will increase knowledge of plucking notes, chords, and thoughtful strumming, but that half hour of instruction is not enough to make playing guitar a strength. As any true musician will tell you, a lot of practice and immeasurable patience are required to master the instrument. The calluses on their fingers should serve as proof enough.
The value of timing also functions as a filter. Plenty of people want to be really great performers. I hear it regularly in the aspiration of our youth. “I want to become an airline pilot.” “Someday I’ll perform on a Broadway stage.” “Being a psychologist is what I see myself doing in the future.” Excellent! Each of the above is a strength and all require much, much more than talent. After receiving training to learn the skills needed to perform specific tasks, the demands of practice and virtue of patience will separate the people interested in flying, performing, or counseling from those who are totally committed. I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to sit on a plane piloted by someone who merely knows about flight, watch a Broadway show performed by people who simply show interest in acting, or attend therapy with someone who just likes helping people. Timing demands more than head knowledge. The practice and patience of timing produces the experience required to develop a strength.
To stay competitive, professional video gamers practice up to seventeen hours a day.7
YOUR TURN:
- Thoughtfully consider your upbringing. How did what was expected of you regarding practice and patience affect what you expect from young people today?
- Focus on one area of performance in your life that you would like to improve upon. On a scale of 1 to 10, how committed to regular practice are you?
- On a scale of 1 to 10, how would others rate your patience level for improved performance through practice?
Patience with yourself:
Patience with others: