“Memory is more of a self-serving dynamic revision machine: you remember the last time you remembered the event, and without realizing it, change the story at every subsequent remembrance.”
Nassim Nicholas Talib
I’m pretty sure that after the dust settles, Ryan Lochte will be fine. Sure, he tarnished his reputation in action and words, but ultimately he fessed up to his big fish story. His mistake will cost him many millions of dollars.
I can’t fully explain why, but I have been deeply intrigued by this event and found myself anxiously drinking up news developments as this puzzle unfolded.
I suppose it’s my interest in human performance that fueled the fascination. It was captivating to see how this 32-year-old, 12-time medalist could make such a stupid mistake and then proceed with making several more before admitting his misbehavior and his lie.
From my vantage, five lessons can be gleaned from this event.
First, a disclaimer: I know these lessons because I have violated each of them at one time or another in my life. I have no corner on the market of honesty or integrity. Whenever humans are involved, mistakes will happen. I’ve had my share.
It serves to revisit these lessons. I write this on a warm summer Saturday afternoon in the hopes I can save one of my students, or wrestlers, or friends, or colleagues, or children, or even a total stranger from making these preventable blunders.
Lochte’s Lapse Lessons
Early this morning I was briskly speed walking down the 5th floor corridor at Hunterdon Medical Center making Saturday morning rounds. I was hustling so that I could make it back for a tennis lesson at 11AM. For a brief moment I thought to myself, “Man, it would be great to be off like most people today rather than getting up at 6AM to get rounds done early to get to play tennis later.”
Then I thought to myself. Don’t wish that. Like Michael Phelps said after his silver medal finish. “THIS IS PERFECT… Just the way it is.” And it was. I was doing what I love to do, what I was born to do. I was caring for patients with my God-given skills. I have the privilege to be a doctor, heck, a neurosurgeon to boot. And I was doing my job. I felt an immense feeling of gratitude for my career, good health, living in a free country, and having a loving family.
In neurosurgery we see many people who lose everything in an instant. Some lose their spouse, their ability to walk or feed themselves, or they are told they have an inoperable brain tumor. In my career, daily, I see my patients’ lives change in an instant. And in Mr. Lochte’s case his did as well. He had the world at his fingertips: fame, fortune, success, popularity, and integrity. And then it all changed in an instant.
I hope he recovers from this event and becomes smarter. And if and when he does, I hope that perhaps he will look at himself and the world from a very different perspective.