运动心理学中成人自我状态对运动员表现的双重影响

📂 应用📅 2026/1/3 16:14:34👁️ 2 次阅读

英文原文

The Necessary Evil of Ego In Sports - SHIFT Speed Coaching

I’m terrified of my own sport. Every starting line, every meet, every registration, and every training session involving the sprint hurdles fills me with anxiety. Just thinking about hurdling fills me with a strange cocktail of dread, anxiousness, and...excitement.

The way I know that I have to hurdle is that I have never stopped thinking about it, even when I thought the sport was over for me in high school, and even when I struggled to sprint respectably fast as a post-collegiate, and even now as I grapple with an established career while fitting in training. And the way I know that I have to be careful with hurdling is this terror I experience as I prepare for it.

The challenge of deeply loving your sport, of identifying with it, and of having grand ambitions in it is that your ego gets intimately tied to every moment you’re in it. Your ego is the most dangerous liability and the most critical asset you have as an athlete. A few tools have helped me manage my own ego that may help you with yours.

How Your Ego Cripples You

Identifying yourself with your sport is dangerous. Doing so means your sense of self and your sense of worth are all wrapped up in your performance and your progression. There is no good enough in this situation. Even the notion of retiring, resting, or slowing down can cripple your emotional health.

Every unit of progress I make as a sprinter gets compared to my standards and my aspirations. I don’t believe there’s a single unit of possibility that I ever run under 13.00 in the 110 meter high hurdles, much less approach Aries Merritt’s unbelievable 12.80, yet those numbers are in my head as my own PRs march down. No amount of progress comes quickly enough to satisfy me.

This drives me to train more, even though my Achilles hurts in the morning. This drives me to watch one more slow motion video of a world championship final, even though I’m 45 minutes past bedtime.

My ego is so consumed with reminding me I haven’t achieved the pinnacle – and, somehow, that if I just work a little harder I’ll magically arrive there, like, yesterday – that there isn’t any perception of upward trend, positive progress, or victory in showing up.

This is the dangerous part of ego as an athlete. You never reach the bar you’ve set for yourself. You criticize your own performance while it happens, not even leaving enough space or having enough grace to wait to look objectively at your performance after the fact.

But without your ego, you wouldn’t be in the sport at all.

How Your Ego Bolsters You

Because your perception of yourself includes being a successful athlete, you commit to doing the unpleasant, unglamorous work necessary to become one. Unless you’re being forced to participate by outside forces, presumably you’re in your sport for the love of the game or the love of the community or both. But every possible environmental factor is begging to distract you from preparing to play.

Your ego is the reason you can turn pro. The sense that you belong on the field and that being on the field is a source of joy keeps you from taking a haphazard approach to preparation.

I massage my feet, foam roll, and stretch every night because I know that doing so keeps me available to train. I ultrasound my old injuries – I mean, I own an ultrasound tool at all, let’s be serious – because I know that doing so might be the 5% capacity I need to have another hurdle session this week rather than resting. I built PVC hurdles and have a playlist of ultra-slow-mo hurdle technique videos so there’s no excuse for wild Colorado weather to stop me from developing my skills.

This all comes from ego. I don’t watch TV and I don’t drink often and I don’t eat many desserts because my identity as a hurdler is stronger than my desire for leisure. Further, I don’t identify as just an athlete. I don’t just play track & field. I am a hurdler.

To be a hurdler comes with certain defining traits and I’m unreasonably proud of them. I’m both brave enough and fool enough to run full speed at barriers. I’m not the fastest, but I’m flexible and snappy and aggressive. I’m obsessed with technique and that’s okay. To be a hurdler is to be all these things and I’ve never been able to release these traits from the shrine in my heart to running hurdles.

This degree of identification is why I choose training over all the other options available for my free time. But this degree of identification is also why the hurdles are so frightening for me.

What Ego Fears Most

The end state of this sort of identification with my sport and with my event within the sport is that I’m afraid.

If it’s time to line up to race, despite how much satisfaction the feeling of running over hurdles gives me, I’m weighed down by fear. If I’m rehearsing good technique and quick rhythm in practice, despite how beautiful I find the act of hurdling to be, I’m distracted by perfectionism. If I’ve gone more than 5 days without going over hurdles, despite how essential recovery is to my longevity in this event, I’m crushed by anxiety that I’m losing form.

These feelings lead to dumb decisions. I’m a MASTER of dumb decisions!

So where’s this all coming from?

Ego. Ego is most afraid of being embarrassed. Ego hates the thought of striving yet falling short. Ego is a victim of its own expectations. My expectations.

Because I love the hurdles so much, I want to look and be as beautifully violent as the best in the sport. Because I want to be like the best, the emotional message is that I want to be the best. If I want to be the best, then my standard candle for every moment in the sport is doing what I think the best would do.

And since my thoughts about what the best in my sport would do are not based on any lived experience of my own, every individual bit of my expectation about being a hurdler is delusional.

This is what I actually work hardest at: selling myself reality and dismissing delusion.

Managing My Ego’s Fear

When I’ve gone more than 5 days without going over hurdles, I make a note about the impact of this rest on my immediate recovery and on my likely sustainable participation. I check my journals about times I got hurt from doing too much, about times my athletes thrived on low-volume programs, and about advice my coaching mentors have shared from their own experiences.

When I’m rehearsing good technique and quick rhythm in practice, I recite a mantra about staying present before each rep and focus on a single cue while moving. I use techniques I learned in therapy to emphasize the present. I use techniques I learned in meditation to feel the skill while imagining so I can feel it while moving.

When I line up to race, I celebrate the fact that I get to play, then I settle into my routines for the start. I remind myself that racing is just an interim exam on the way to my goals. I try to sense every part of my body, so I know this team of bones and tissues is on board to perform.

And when I talk about my hobbies, I make a point of never saying “I am a hurdler.” I tell folks who know track that I run hurdles. I tell folks who don’t know the sport that I play at track & field. I tell people that I dream of continuing to race in this sport into my 100s.

It’s a series of little actions that help divorce my identity from the thing I do. A series of little actions that help disconnect my ego from my hobby.

To imagine myself as one with what I love is a sort of dysfunctional dependency. To acknowledge that I love this thing but am not, necessarily, made up of this thing, is intentional emotional distance. That distance let’s me reflect on running track. That distance let’s me coach myself in the hurdles. And that distance makes the fear tolerable.

That distance is what leaves room for the excitement. Amid a cocktail of destructive, distracting, disquieting emotions when I think about running hurdles, excitement is the ultimate garnish.

I’m still terrified of my sport, even 20 years after I first tried it. I’m scared to fall short of my own expectations for it. The excitement of playing it and excitement at the prospect of being able to do it for decades to come is how I know I love it.

If you’re struggling with anxiety about your sport, as I have at intervals for two decades now, it’s probably time to reconnect with what you love about it.

That love is what keeps the ego at bay.

中文翻译

运动中的自我——必要的邪恶——SHIFT速度教练

我害怕自己的运动。每条起跑线、每次比赛、每次报名、每次涉及跨栏短跑的训练都让我充满焦虑。光是想到跨栏,就让我充满一种奇怪的恐惧、焦虑和……兴奋的混合感。

我知道我必须跨栏,因为我从未停止过思考它,即使我在高中时以为这项运动对我来说已经结束,即使我在大学毕业后努力以可敬的速度冲刺,即使现在我在处理一份稳定职业的同时还要安排训练。我知道我必须小心对待跨栏,是因为我在准备时经历的这种恐惧。

深爱你的运动、认同它、在其中怀有远大抱负的挑战在于,你的自我与你在其中的每一刻紧密相连。作为运动员,你的自我是最危险的责任,也是最关键的资产。一些工具帮助我管理自己的自我,可能对你也有帮助。

你的自我如何拖累你

将自己与运动认同是危险的。这样做意味着你的自我感和价值感都包裹在你的表现和进步中。在这种情况下,没有足够好。即使是退休、休息或放慢速度的想法也可能损害你的情感健康。

我作为短跑运动员取得的每一点进步都与我的标准和抱负相比较。我不相信我有任何可能跑进110米高栏13.00秒以内,更不用说接近Aries Merritt难以置信的12.80秒,但这些数字在我脑海中,随着我的个人纪录下降。没有足够的进步能快速满足我。

这驱使我训练更多,即使我的跟腱在早上疼痛。这驱使我再看一个世界锦标赛决赛的慢动作视频,即使我已经过了就寝时间45分钟。

我的自我如此专注于提醒我尚未达到顶峰——而且,不知何故,如果我更努力一点,我就能神奇地到达那里,就像昨天一样——以至于没有任何对上升趋势、积极进步或出场的胜利的感知。

这是作为运动员的自我危险的部分。你永远达不到为自己设定的标准。你在表现发生时批评自己的表现,甚至没有留下足够的空间或优雅来等待事后客观地看待你的表现。

但没有你的自我,你根本不会从事这项运动。

你的自我如何支持你

因为你对自我的认知包括成为一名成功的运动员,你承诺做成为运动员所需的不愉快、不光彩的工作。除非你被外部力量强迫参与,否则你可能因为对比赛的热爱或对社区的热爱或两者兼有而从事这项运动。但每一个可能的环境因素都在恳求你从准备比赛中分心。

你的自我是你能成为职业运动员的原因。那种你属于赛场、在赛场上是一种快乐来源的感觉,让你不会采取随意的准备方式。

我每晚按摩脚、泡沫滚轴和拉伸,因为我知道这样做能让我保持训练状态。我用超声波治疗旧伤——我的意思是,我居然拥有超声波工具,说真的——因为我知道这样做可能是我本周需要再进行一次跨栏训练而不是休息的5%能力。我建造了PVC跨栏,并有一个超慢动作跨栏技术视频播放列表,这样就没有借口让科罗拉多州的恶劣天气阻止我发展技能。

这一切都来自自我。我不看电视,不常喝酒,不吃很多甜点,因为我作为跨栏运动员的身份比我对休闲的渴望更强。此外,我不只是认同为运动员。我不只是玩田径。我是一名跨栏运动员。

成为一名跨栏运动员带有某些定义性特征,我对此感到不合理的自豪。我既勇敢又愚蠢,以全速冲向障碍。我不是最快的,但我灵活、敏捷、有攻击性。我痴迷于技术,这没关系。成为一名跨栏运动员就是拥有所有这些特征,我从未能将这些特征从我对跨栏运动的神圣心中释放出来。

这种认同程度是我选择训练而不是所有其他空闲时间选项的原因。但这种认同程度也是为什么跨栏对我来说如此可怕。

自我最害怕什么

这种与我的运动和运动中的项目认同的最终状态是我害怕。

如果到了排队比赛的时候,尽管跨栏的感觉给我带来多少满足感,我被恐惧压垮。如果我在练习中排练好技术和快速节奏,尽管我发现跨栏行为多么美丽,我被完美主义分心。如果我超过5天没有跨栏,尽管恢复对我的项目长寿至关重要,我被焦虑压垮,担心我正在失去状态。

这些感觉导致愚蠢的决定。我是愚蠢决定的大师!

那么这一切从何而来?

自我。自我最害怕尴尬。自我讨厌努力却失败的想法。自我是自己期望的受害者。我的期望。

因为我如此热爱跨栏,我想看起来和表现得像这项运动中最好的那样美丽而暴力。因为我想像最好的那样,情感信息是我想成为最好的。如果我想成为最好的,那么我在运动中的每一刻的标准蜡烛就是做我认为最好的会做的事。

由于我对这项运动中最好的会做什么的想法不是基于我自己的任何生活经验,我对成为一名跨栏运动员的每一个期望都是妄想。

这是我实际上最努力工作的:向自己推销现实并摒弃妄想。

管理我的自我的恐惧

当我超过5天没有跨栏时,我记录这种休息对我即时恢复和可能可持续参与的影响。我查看我的日记,关于我因做得太多而受伤的时候,关于我的运动员在低量计划中茁壮成长的时候,以及关于我的教练导师从他们自己的经验中分享的建议。

当我在练习中排练好技术和快速节奏时,我在每次重复前背诵一个关于保持当下的咒语,并在移动时专注于一个单一提示。我使用在治疗中学到的技巧来强调当下。我使用在冥想中学到的技巧来感受技能,同时想象,这样我可以在移动时感受它。

当我排队比赛时,我庆祝我能玩的事实,然后我进入起跑的例行程序。我提醒自己比赛只是通往目标途中的中期考试。我试图感知身体的每一部分,所以我知道这支骨骼和组织团队准备好表现。

当我谈论我的爱好时,我特意从不说“我是一名跨栏运动员”。我告诉懂田径的人我跑跨栏。我告诉不懂这项运动的人我玩田径。我告诉人们我梦想继续在这项运动中比赛到100岁。

这是一系列小行动,帮助将我的身份与我所做的事情分开。一系列小行动,帮助将我的自我与我的爱好断开。

想象自己与所爱的事物合为一体是一种功能失调的依赖。承认我爱这件事但不一定由这件事组成,是有意的情感距离。那种距离让我反思跑步。那种距离让我在跨栏中教练自己。那种距离让恐惧变得可容忍。

那种距离是留下兴奋空间的原因。在想到跨栏时,破坏性、分心、不安情绪的混合中,兴奋是最终的装饰。

我仍然害怕我的运动,即使在我第一次尝试20年后。我害怕达不到我对它的期望。玩它的兴奋和未来几十年能做它的兴奋是我知道我热爱它的方式。

如果你正在为你的运动焦虑而挣扎,就像我二十年来间歇性地经历的那样,可能是时候重新连接你热爱它的地方了。

那种爱是让自我保持距离的原因。

文章概要

本文以一位跨栏运动员的第一人称视角,探讨了运动心理学中自我(ego)的双重角色。文章描述了自我如何既是运动员最危险的负担,又是最关键的资产。一方面,自我导致运动员将身份与运动表现过度绑定,引发焦虑、完美主义和永不满足的期望,从而损害情感健康和决策。另一方面,自我驱动运动员投入艰苦训练、保持纪律和追求卓越,是成为职业运动员的动力来源。作者分享了管理自我恐惧的实用策略,如保持情感距离、专注于当下和重新定义身份认同,最终强调通过重新连接对运动的热爱来平衡自我,实现可持续参与和享受。

高德明老师的评价

用12岁初中生可以听懂的语音来重复翻译的内容

这篇文章讲的是一个跨栏运动员的故事。他超级喜欢跨栏,但每次比赛或训练前都特别紧张,又害怕又兴奋。他把跨栏看得太重了,觉得自己必须跑得超级快,不然就不好,这让他压力山大,甚至受伤了还要练。但也是因为这种“我一定要成为跨栏高手”的想法,让他坚持每天按摩、拉伸,甚至自己造跨栏来练习,不怕辛苦。他后来学会了一些小技巧,比如比赛前告诉自己“这只是玩”,或者不说“我是跨栏运动员”而说“我玩跨栏”,这样就不那么害怕了。最后他说,爱跨栏才是最重要的,能让他开心地一直玩下去。

TA沟通分析心理学理论评价

从TA沟通分析心理学理论来看,这篇文章生动展示了成人自我状态在运动情境中的复杂动态。作者作为运动员,其成人自我状态在处理现实信息时,一方面被父母自我状态中的高标准和儿童自我状态中的恐惧所干扰,导致焦虑和完美主义,这体现了自我状态间的污染现象。例如,当作者将身份过度认同为“跨栏运动员”时,父母自我状态的批评性信息(如“必须达到最佳”)和儿童自我状态的适应性反应(如害怕失败)侵入成人自我,削弱了其客观评估和决策能力。然而,作者通过意识化策略,如使用咒语保持当下、记录恢复影响,成功强化了成人自我状态,实现了自我状态的去污染,从而更理性地管理训练和比赛。这种过程突显了成人自我状态在整合内在资源、平衡冲动与规范方面的核心作用,符合TA理论中健康人格的发展目标。

在实践上可以应用的领域和可以解决人们的十个问题

在实践上,这篇文章的见解可应用于多个领域,基于TA沟通分析心理学理论,帮助人们解决以下十个问题:1. 运动表现焦虑——通过强化成人自我状态,减少儿童自我状态的恐惧干扰,提升比赛专注力。2. 身份认同危机——帮助个体区分“做什么”和“是什么”,避免自我状态污染,增强自我价值感。3. 完美主义倾向——使用成人自我状态的现实检验,挑战父母自我状态的不合理标准,降低自我批评。4. 职业倦怠——在职场中,通过保持情感距离,防止工作身份过度绑定,促进工作与生活平衡。5. 训练动机管理——在教育或体育训练中,利用成人自我状态设定可实现目标,避免儿童自我状态的冲动或逃避。6. 情绪调节困难——应用TA的脚本分析,识别并改写限制性信念,改善焦虑和压力反应。7. 团队沟通障碍——在团队运动中,促进成人自我状态间的直接沟通,减少父母或儿童自我状态引发的冲突。8. 目标设定与达成——使用成人自我状态制定现实计划,克服儿童自我状态的即时满足或父母自我状态的过高期望。9. 自我激励策略——通过强化成人自我状态的自主性,培养内在动机,减少对外部认可的依赖。10. 生活满意度提升——在日常生活里,实践TA的“我好-你好”定位,增强对爱好的纯粹享受,减少自我驱动的压力。