On January 20, 2026, I wrote about The Genius of Athletes, by Noel Brick and Scott Douglas. In that piece, I explored three strategies athletes use to avoid the willpower trap.
Top athletes don’t rely on sheer grit. Instead, they redesign tasks so willpower is barely needed. First, they lower the cost of starting by using open-ended goals that trigger curiosity rather than fear. Second, they remove decision-making through simple “if–then” plans that turn action into a reflex. Third, they focus on identity rather than outcomes—asking whether they maintained the system, not whether they hit a specific target. Once action begins, momentum takes over, making persistence easier than resistance.
Today, I want to focus on another powerful strategy discussed in the book: reconstructing the self.
Sometimes, the human “self” is not a reliable partner. Under pressure, it can be fragile and overly sensitive, prone to quiet self-doubt: Can I do this? Am I good enough for this? I’m going to mess this up.
Top athletes respond differently. Instead of being ruled by that inner voice, they split the self in two: one part performs, the other acts as a coach—observing in real time, engaging in dialogue, and adjusting actions calmly.
One of the simplest techniques for doing this is effective: switching to second- or third-person self-talk.
For example, when Joyce is running, she said to herself, “Joyce certainly can run faster than this,” or “You did well today.” This small linguistic shift creates psychological distance—and that distance matters.
Psychologist Ethan Kross at the University of Michigan has conducted a series of experiments on this phenomenon. In one study, participants were asked to motivate themselves before delivering an impromptu speech. One group used first-person self-talk (“I can do this”), while another used third-person self-talk (“You can do this”).
The results: those who used third-person self-talk showed better emotional regulation and stronger performance. Afterward, they also reported less dissatisfaction and insecurity.
Brain scans revealed why. First-person self-talk activated the medial prefrontal cortex, a region associated with negative self-judgment and rumination—Why am I so bad? Why do I always mess this up? Third-person self-talk, by contrast, reduced activity in that region and activated the dorsolateral prefrontal cortex, which governs rational thinking and problem-solving.
In other words, speaking to yourself in the third person doesn’t just create emotional distance—it neurologically shifts the brain from emotional mode to problem-solving mode.
This kind of self-talk allows someone to step out of thoughts like “I’m exhausted, I can’t go on,” and into a coaching stance: “Okay, fatigue is setting in. Adjust the technique and keep moving.”
The book also describes an example involving American swimming legend Michael Phelps. His coach deliberately created disruptions during training—breaking his goggles before races or forcing him to swim in darkness—so that Phelps would learn to activate “coach mode” under any circumstance.
During the 2008 Olympic 200-meter butterfly final, Phelps’s goggles filled with water. He couldn’t see the pool lines or the wall. Instead of panicking, he switched into coach mode and told himself, “Count the strokes.” He knew it took 21 strokes to reach the wall. He counted—and touched first, winning gold and breaking the world record.
Effective self-talk, the book emphasizes, is not innate. It can be trained in three stages.
The first is the awareness stage. Athletes keep self-talk logs, noting when negative thoughts arise, in what situations, and how they respond. Without awareness, there can be no adjustment.
The second is the learning stage. Athletes use restructuring worksheets to reframe disruptive thoughts. For example, “My legs are sore after 20 kilometers” becomes “This means my muscles are working; this is normal.” The goal is not to silence negative thoughts, but to build a stronger, more useful internal voice.
The third is the implementation stage—applying these skills under real pressure. This is the hardest phase, because competition stress is very different from training. But with repetition, the self-talk system becomes more refined—much like a pianist practicing a difficult passage until it becomes second nature.
Many people discover that their inner voice is harsh and unforgiving, constantly whispering, “You’re not good enough.” What athletes develop instead is a voice that offers precise, believable encouragement—firm but supportive, critical without being cruel.
The book highlights three techniques for effective self-talk. The one I find most powerful is this: connect your self-talk to meaning. In moments of difficulty, ask yourself: Why does this matter? What kind of person do I want to be right now?
In the end, thinking like an athlete means learning how to speak to yourself when things get hard—so that pressure no longer turns you against yourself, but helps you become your own coach.