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Imagine your instrument. Great, now imagine it suddenly has legs and a mouth and is a functioning member of society (vocalists, you don’t even have to imagine!). How would you treat this new instrument-person hybrid thing? I know it’s a strange question, but think about it; would it follow the same schedule as you? Would it take the same classes and practice the same amount of time? Or perhaps the more important question is: would you force your bad habits onto it as well?
I’ve been an athlete for 12 years, and I’ve had my fair share of horror stories — traumatizing coaches and preventable injuries, which can lead many to lose their love of the sport. Fortunately, my love for running remains unyielding. But most of my running experience has been amazing! Most of my coaches, including my current coach (I know you’re reading this) have correctly emphasized the science behind recovery and the fact that recovery is just as important as the practice itself. In fact, practicing more doesn’t make you better. The trick is to practice enough, and then rest and “actively recover” (for many athletes, this is stretching, foam rolling, hydrating and fueling) for as long as possible before you get to do it again. This is just common sense to most athletes: if you don’t fuel or sleep properly, you won’t be able to perform at your best.
To Conservatory students, it seems the culture is the opposite: not sleeping, eating or taking care of yourself shows dedication. We all know someone who brags about it like a badge of honor. Why is it so different for athletes? We’re both using our bodies to do what we love — we couldn’t do what we love without them.
Societal expectations, that’s why. Everyone knows how artists must “suffer for their art.” No one bats an eye when they prioritize their practice over themselves. Which is strange to me because I consider my practice and myself to be indistinguishable; to me, they are one and the same. If I suffer for one, the other will suffer, too.
People could say that being an athlete is painful. It certainly has been for me at times, but I can confidently say I’ve never suffered for it. I push myself when I need to push myself, and when practice is over, I rest. That isn’t comparable to ignoring your body’s needs in favor of “being better.” It’s far more comparable to practicing a hard piece than to not eating lunch.
Let’s say you can’t figure out that hard piece one night — let’s say you just can’t get the rhythm or you keep forgetting what key you’re in. Maybe instead of pushing through and suffering for it, you try again tomorrow. I know it seems naive of me to say, making it seem like Conservatory students don’t have deadlines or will have time in their schedule. I know it’s not really as simple as just trying again, but maybe it could be. When I have a bad workout, I don’t run another 10 miles afterwards to try and be better. I drink some chocolate almond milk, I roll out my muscles, I reflect a bit in my journal and then I forget about it — I go to practice the next day and I give it my best because that’s all I can do. I find that with this mentality, my bad workouts become fewer and farther between.
So, I may have buried the lead here just a bit: I am also a Con kid — I am also guilty of skipping lunch on Mondays to make it to studio on time; I am also guilty of staying in the practice rooms past midnight. But I try my best not to make it a habit. I try to pack something to scarf down in five minutes, I try to set an alarm for when it’s time to go. Sometimes I forget, but I try. And when asked about it, I tell people how terrible not sleeping and eating is. I tell them that not only does it make your short-term performance worse, it also has severe and permanent consequences in the long term.
This is not a hit piece or a call-out or whatever it may seem to be. This is a gentle reminder that your voice or your instrument can only function as well as you can. So don’t suffer for your art — be well for it.