Every morning for breakfast I have three sandwiches of fried eggs, cheese, lettuce, tomato, fried onions, and mayonnaise, one omelet, a bowl of grits, and three slices of French toast with powdered sugar; I then wash it down with three chocolate chip pancakes with butter, syrup, and whipped cream.
Wait a second. I don't remember Bob Costas ever being in my kitchen, and I don't remember winning any medals. Oh right, that's because it's Michael Phelps's morning, not mine.
My morning goes something like hit snooze, hit snooze, put in my contacts, grab a yogurt from the fridge and head out the door. Although Michael's routine and mine seem to vary greatly, they share one important thing: ritual.
Mankind has forever been a creature of habit and we've created (divinely mandated or not) every type of religion to feed this need--almost all faiths require repetition as part of worship, from the daily reiteration of prayer, to the yearly repetition of holidays, to the once-in-a-lifetime ritual of marriage or funeral. I like to think that rituals are our way of telling the future: we know what to expect when, and we know what to do how.
Science, however, doesn't seem to entirely agree with my theory. Apparently there's a specific part of the brain that doesn't respond well to words but recognizes and reacts strongly to gestures and actions. Rituals enable us to tap into this subconscious in order to achieve pragmatic or spiritual goals. So Phelps's subconscious recognizes the enormous, habitual breakfast as preparation for a day in the pool the same way a Catholic's mind identifies the Eucharist as preparation for an hour of devotion. If our minds are able to recognize the action, they can then predict what has typically followed and perform optimally, because, well, we like repetition, and perfect practice makes perfect.
What's so fascinating about Phelps and the Olympic Games is that they represent the Russian Nesting Doll of rituals; one ritual stacked in another in another and so on. We all know the Games began as a Pagan ritual way back when, but over centuries, that one ancient rite has spawned exponentially. Ritualistic athletes now each have their own talismans, pre-race play lists, minute-by-minute mantras, and post-game meals that if missed, could result in a loss.
Phelps's has his Herculean breakfast and hip-hop songs to get him in the zone, Misty May-Treanor has her deceased mom's ashes in the stands to help her relax, and if you've ever watched a synchronized diving duo, the ritual in those routines can't be missed.
Then there are the smaller habits that still have great affects for athletes-- always bouncing the ball three times at the free-throw line before shooting, or shaking out each limb one by one, left to right before jumping in the pool, or scratching your right ear once before taking your mark for the 100m dash.
I wish the equation was as simple as rituals plus repetition equals Olympic hopeful, but alas, not so. However, when I look at my own daily routine, I see that little rituals have crept in and made themselves at home in my cushy subconscious.
I put my left contact in first, followed by the right. At work, I like the open programs on my bottom menu to go from left to right: Outlook, Gmail, RightClick, RightClick Atlas Reports, then lead into any Excel docs I have open. My mind and body (well, mouse-clicking hand anyway) expect them in that order. And when they're not, my gold medal dreams of a perfectly synchronized switch between Email and Excel are squashed.
I also say a prayer as the plane is speeding down the runway towards take-off; no sooner, no later. Haven't crashed yet. And when I get home from work, I automatically change into t-shirt and shorts. I think that has to do with the ingrained rituals from my youth: come home from school, change into play-clothes for soccer/basketball/lacrosse/softball/tennis. The sports action is no longer there, but my preparation is still going strong.
If the rituals of religion unite heaven and earth, then they also allow our subconscious to take over our bodies and go beyond the limitation of thought. If I could get some chocolate chip pancakes to do that for me every morning, I'd be the happiest, fattest swimmer this side of the Hudson. But I guess I'll let Phelps's handle the swimming; I'll handle the daily grind at work and afterwards -- in my t-shirt and shorts -- I'll enjoy watching the ritualistic games on TV.
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Uhmmmmmmmm, bull fights on acid. Now that's a thought. Would that be the bull, the matador, you, or all three?
You should try running with the bulls in Pamplona.
Michael Phelps needs to mix a couple of bags of shelled edamane with humus and make himself some pita sandwiches crammed full of crunchy raw vegetables, including some red onion rings for spice and he'll be the first human to break 1:50:00 in the 200 meter fly.
Are you listening, grasshopper?
Oh, I almost forgot. Add some falafel.
For many years I've tried to identify, question, and remove rituals from my life because I believe they are the equivalent of living on automatic pilot. My goal is to spend as much time as possible totally focused in the moment because that is when I feel most alive, aware, creative, and full of joy.
Lao Tsu said it more poetically, but my description works better for me because to really be in the moment I have to stop my brain's internal dialogue and just be. Lao Tsu's poetic definition functions as a mantra, but as long as you're thinking about what he means, you aren't in the moment.
Strange approach to an interesting topic.
The necessary breakfast of a world-class athelete
is not exactly a ritual.
What Phelps eats out of necessity is different from
the little rituals most of us have.
I disagree. He needs to consume more calories than an average person because he burns more calories during his daily workouts, but the percentage of high cholesterol fats that he consumes isn't optimal. It's off the freaking charts! I'm not a trained dietician but unless I've been reading outdated literature, he could substantially improve his performance by changing his morning breakfast ritual, which seems more like a fetish than sensible eating.
Imagine a football player winning eight positions in the pro bowl ....................................
http://thefiresidepost.com/2008/08/20/michael-phelps-pro-bowl-in-eight-positions/
Uhmmmm, sounds like you're thinking about Jim Thorpe.
Well established hierarchies are not easily uprooted;
Closely held beliefs are not easily released;
So ritual enthralls generation after generation.
Harmony does not care for harmony, and so is naturally attained;
But ritual is intent upon harmony, and so can not attain it.
Harmony neither acts nor reasons;
Love acts, but without reason;
Justice acts to serve reason;
But ritual acts to enforce reason.
When the Way is lost, there remains harmony;
When harmony is lost, there remains love;
When love is lost, there remains justice;
But when justice is lost, there remains ritual.
Ritual is the end of compassion and honesty,
The beginning of confusion;
Belief is a colourful hope or fear,
The beginning of folly.
The sage goes by harmony, not by hope;
He dwells in the fruit, not the flower;
He accepts substance, and ignores abstraction.
--Lao Tsu, 6th century B.C.
I think the brain gets terribly tired of all the excessive stimulation and things in life that we cannot control, so when we slip into a ritual it requires no thinking, we can rest the mind in familiarity.
Good piece. I hadn't noticed all of the rituals I have! In Michael's case, I think having ADHD plays a role too. I watched a story on him and remember his mother talking about his struggles with it. My mom has ADD and having a set routine is the only way she gets things done.
Really, now. Admit it. The whole reason for this post was to make us jealous of how much that boy gets to eat.
I really liked this piece, but Lindsay, come on - in 2008, a better edit for your headline would read "why humans crave rituals" as opposed to such a gender-specifc term.
When you're right, you're right.
Absolutely right! And the title has been changed accordingly. What can I say? We're very, uh, democratic here at HuffPost. Keep the constructive criticism coming!
I'm on the cusp of being a routine keeper-screw a routine-er. I will get on a roll with a ritual like parking the car, come in the back door, poor a glass of wine, turn on the light-tv-take shoes off-find a show-get online-check mail-check sites-pour another glass of vino. Then after a few days I flip things around by coming in the front door instead.
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Posted August 19, 2008 | 06:53 AM (EST)