When I first learned what a flow state was, I thought it was just a fancy-pants name for feeling good, which is to say I dismissed the concept within a minute or two of finishing the article, written by no less an authority on flow than Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi, literally the guy who wrote the book on flow. More than a decade would pass before I’d run across a book by Stephen Kotler the broke down the neuroscience of a flow state. Learning that flow is an altered state of consciousness, a condition in which your brain simultaneously spurs you to perform at your best and rewards you for being a badass and then caps the experience with an afterglow of happiness legitimized the direction of my life in a way nothing else ever had.
Understanding that flow is the merging of action and awareness and brings us to a point of not just improved performance but the ideal state of performance made finding ways to hack flow a matter of professional development. My best work as a writer comes when I’ve tapped into flow, the same as my best riding and bass playing. Heck, I even try to find flow when I’m driving.
Identification
The bedrock of my understanding rested on my ability to identify the signifiers of a flow state. There are nearly 20 of them, including a sense of mastery and effortlessness, a loss of self-consciousness and a shutdown of the internal critic, such a deep sense of reward that no outside reward is required, a deep sense of purpose, heightened creativity, deep concentration in which the rest of the world slips away, as well as a distorted sense of time—that hours can pass without noticing or that in demanding circumstances it can seem like time slows down.
With a solid working definition for flow, I was able to identify how my favorite pursuits through my life—bicycles, writing, skateboarding, skiing, playing music and even sex—had all served as vehicles for flow. I didn’t so much self-select into the role of flow junkie as self-identify. I’d been chasing it ever since I was a kid.
Games People Play
I’ve taken to playing a little game when I drive. I watch my car’s gas mileage indicator and strive to keep that as high as possible at all times. It causes me to watch for situations that will force me to brake it creates enough of a challenge that I can reach flow and save money at the same time.
Here’s the obvious question: Why bother? Why go to that much trouble while driving? Well, it makes driving more pleasurable and takes my mind off the traffic, which can be frustrating in the best of times. And yes, finding flow means finding pleasure and reward, which are reasons enough, but there’s yet another reason to pursue flow in the most mundane activities: Flow begets flow.
The research shows that the more we chase flow the more we find flow. And because flow is utterly democratic—your brain doesn’t care if you’re playing pickleball or writing a sonnet—finding flow in disparate activities makes you better at identifying the conditions that give rise to it, so if you want to find flow while riding your bike or writing code or making the perfect multi-dish dinner, look for it everywhere.
Hacking flow is a thing. In fact, Kotler founded the Flow Research Collective to better understand how to hack into the state so that we can perform at our best, even when the task is as mundane as writing an email to a coworker.
Triggers
Which brings me to those conditions: Flow triggers fall into four different categories. They are: internal, external, creative and group—this last category is a special breed because group flow is harder to achieve than solo flow, but the reward is off-the-charts euphoria.
When I’m chasing flow, I go to the internal triggers first, and I look for challenges that match my skill level; balancing those two is a necessary condition. Concentration and autonomy help trigger flow as well, that is, the ability to reach deep concentration and having the freedom to make decisions matters.
Next, usually, I consider what external triggers exist for me to exploit. They include novelty, risk, complexity and deep immersion. I will ask myself what I can do to increase my sense of complexity (again, challenge as I define it) as well as to make the experience fresh. Moving in three dimensions—that is feeling your body go up and down or twist in addition to moving in what we typically perceive as two dimensions can serve as a powerful trigger. And no matter what, I know that I won’t reach flow until and unless I throw myself into the pursuit with the whole of my focus.
Creativity serves as a powerful trigger for flow. It need not be something as complex as playing a musical instrument. Creativity can be exploited in tiny ways; the point is to make choices that are different than your usual responses.
There’s one other flow trigger that doesn’t get much discussion, but is relevant to cyclists. Exercising to 80 percent of your maximum heart rate predisposes us to entering flow. As a matter of aerobic function, 80 percent is the sweet spot for entering flow if we are doing something physically demanding. That’s high zone 3 for the nerds, and pretty stinkin’ hard but not super hard for the rest of us.
Strategies
With road cycling, pack riding is as sure-fire a way to find flow as exists. What the pack does is endlessly novel and requires constant concentration to attend to everything going on around you. No two group rides are ever the same, even if the course never changes. For solo riders, a descent is the most reliable trigger because speed makes the environment around you more challenging to process; there’s less time to think and process.
With mountain biking, and even gravel riding, because there is often no difference between riding alone and riding with others, I look for environmental triggers. No matter the circumstance, speed helps. And speed isn’t a constant. The narrower the trail, the less speed you need to help trigger flow. With flow, there are no absolutes; flow is based on perception, so if you feel like going 8 mph while threading through trees is your limit, that may be enough to tip you into flow, when combined with a few other factors. Choosing to go over something rather than around it can help. Any time I enter one of Annadel’s notorious rock gardens, I’ll take the fastest line into the garden, and then change up my line once in. This combines speed with novelty and because I’m scanning the ground in front of me for the rocks I can roll over or between, I’m at the limit of my processing.
With gravel riding, simply scanning for the fastest line and best traction—not always the same thing—can keep my brain busy enough that my effort level can tip me into flow.
In my pursuit to corner faster on both mountain and gravel bikes, I’ve been working harder to keep my weight as far to the outside of the bike as possible, while leaning my bike at angles I once thought only possible with the aid of a velodrome. On those occasions when my tires begin to break away, if I can refrain from tapping my brakes to help me stand the bike up and slow down to make the turn, that can drop me into flow instantly.
Catching air on a mountain bike is possibly the single most powerful trigger there is in the sport. Your body has to attend to a great deal more input than by simply turning. Making sure your center of gravity is properly positioned on the bike is crucial to a safe or even stylish landing. And the bigger the air, the bigger the challenge, which begets bigger flow.
The bottom line for us flow junkies is pretty cool: Challenge yourself. Go faster; not lots faster, but a little faster. Corner harder while focusing on body position. Take a different line. And even if your idea of air is measured in inches rather than feet, go for the huck.