Step 4 Muscle Memory

This is the step we're aiming for when learning something involving physical movements. Which, coincidentally, we're required to do a lot of when riding a motorcycle. We want these physical actions to take a background role as far as the amount of concentration required to perform them. This is true of any of the physical skills involved. What we're really concentrating on, though, are the skills specific to accident avoidance. These include, but are not limited to, braking and swerving. If we want to be a bit more technical about the matter, we could include proper cornering technique and head turns.

In an interesting contradiction you could call this level of performance unconscious competence. We do the right thing without having to think about it on a conscious level. The movements required become automatic reflexes. Another way to look at it is to say they happen on autopilot. We should just automatically do the right thing. I'm sure you get the gist of what I'm trying to put across by now.

I remember Gramps teasing me at the supper table. He'd watch me eat for a while and then give me a big grin. Gramp would remark on one of my autopilot reflexes.

"You know, it's so interesting watching you. Whenever your elbow bends your mouth flies open!"

What he didn't specifically say was that the reason this happened was because I was getting ready to shove another forkful of food that I'd just liberated from my plate into my mouth.

An example from the world of motorcycling is in properly using head turns. Whenever we're preparing to change the direction of our motorcycle our unconscious reaction should be to automatically point our nose at the new target. Whenever we're faced with the need to apply maximum braking our autopilot response should be to apply both brakes smoothly with the proper modulation of front and rear brake. Believe me, this isn't the normal reaction. We have to work to get there.



So how does this happen? We talk about building the mind-muscle connection. We give it the fancy name of Muscle Memory. How many times have we heard that term? What does it really mean to develop muscle memory? How does it happen? What does it do for us?

Muscles themselves have no actual memory. The concepts of "brain" and "brawn" are always used to convey separate images. We talk about people blessed with one or the other. If we're really lucky we're blessed with both. Once upon a time I was one of those lucky ones. These days I look like a blocky desktop computer. Not much to look at but the processor and memory still work. Either way, you never hear somebody being referred to as having "brainy brawn". Which is a long ways to come back to saying that our muscles themselves have no actual memory.

So what's involved in this muscle memory thing? Think of it as taking a series of still life photographs and turning them into a movie. Individual actions are blended into one smooth movement. The actions are actually stored in our brains. Specifically in the cerebellum. I never even knew I had one of those things in my head before! I may have to explore getting a bigger helmet.

Here's an example from our basic classes. It's the process for upshifting. First we have the students sit on a non-running motorcycle. We break the process down into individual steps. We first practice each step by itself. As we move through the practice we have the students start blending the steps into one smooth series of motions called "upshift".

Here's how it goes. Roll off the throttle. Squeeze the clutch lever. Lift up on the shift lever. Ease out the clutch lever. Roll on the throttle.

Of course, that takes forever. We need to speed it up a little. So now we condense the process into buzz words. Roll. Squeeze. Lift. Ease. Roll. A bit faster but still not the automatic smooth response we're after.

Thus the time spent on the exercise where students actually practice upshifting while riding. For a while it can take nearly the whole length of the range to get into second gear. Pretty soon we start to see the individual steps merge into one smooth and fluid process. That's muscle memory being formed in the cerebellum. It's forming the individual memory of each step into a movie. Each memory is still stored as its own photo but the cerebellum creates the pathways that link the steps into one process.

Thus we get a couple of valuable clues on how to properly form these movies. Firstly, each individual step needs to be firmly and correctly imprinted into its storage space. Secondly, the making of the movie requires a lot of repetitions. The more we correctly repeat the drill the stronger the pathways linking the individual steps become. The goal is to create a near automatic playback of the stored memory of the required movements.

I've written this before but it's really appropriate for this discussion.

Amateurs practice until they get it right. Professionals practice until they can't get it wrong.

Did you get the idea that a LOT of practice is required? There's another saying that practice makes perfect. What should really be expressed is that PERFECT practice makes perfect. This is another value of professional training. Most training sessions don't allow enough time to perfect each skill. What the sessions do accomplish, however, is to show the student what each skill SHOULD look like. This provides the mental picture of the finished product. It's our target, if you will.

I think one of the reasons riders hold back from more intense skill practice is that it can be slightly intimidating. Thinking of the whole process involved in maximum braking, for example, can be overwhelming. When there's a number of different movements involved it can also be hard to self evaluate where the process is good and where it can use some help.



Knowing that the longest journey begins with the first step ( don't know why I'm spouting sayings today but there it is ) why not just take a step? We also now know that our brains still store the individual steps and links these together. Our brain doesn't store "upshift". It stores ROLL-SQUEEZE-LIFT-EASE-ROLL. Why not take advantage of that process and separate our practice into individual steps?

Here's how it can work. Pick a day that we're riding. To work, for work, for recreation, whatever. For that day focus on smooth braking. Just that step. It's simple and effective. It's easy to get feedback on how our brake application is because that's all we're working on. Smooth or not? Simple. Work on cementing the single photo of smooth braking. One correct memory stored.

Pick another ride and concentrate on putting your knees against the gas tank ( or fake plastic thingy up there ). Take the next ride and concentrate on the fine feel possible on the rear brake lever by using the smaller muscles of the lower leg and foot. The next ride can be dedicated to keeping our eyes up and looking well ahead while braking. After that concentrate on a progressive squeeze of the front brake lever.



This may all sound over simplified but it's exactly what our brains need. Remember that the overall movement is a movie made up of individual photos. The key is to make sure that each photo is correct for the movie theme. Once that's accomplished we then work on the whole. Ultimately it's going to require practicing the whole sequence together many times to establish the pathways. You'll find it much more effective and less intimidating having practiced each step individually.

Our goal is actually two-fold. Yes, we want the right movements to automatically be there, as it were, when needed. That's a very valuable component, to be sure. There's an even more compelling reason to get to this point. It's something we've probably thought about but never really delved into. That's the subject for an upcoming post.

Here's a hint: Action is always better than reaction.

Miles and smiles,

Dan

It's Great to Know for Sure!

I want to make one more comment on Step 3 of gaining new skills before I finish off with the oh-so critical importance of Step 4.

Since it's been so long between posts let's take just a moment to re-establish continuity.

I've been posting about the four steps I've discovered happen when a person is learning a new skill. In this series these are skills related to riding a motorcycle successfully. I believe the same steps happen in other contexts but this is a blog about motorcycle riding. So we go with our strengths and interests.

Briefly, the first step is what I call finding out what we didn't know. Something new catches our eye and we want to try it. At this point we don't know what we don't know. Training and self discovery tell us what's lacking.

Step 2 is when we discover where we are in gaining these new skills. Mostly it consists of realizing that we really need some more work and practice!

Step 3 ( which is where we've gotten to in this blog ) is when we realize that we're actually starting to see improvement in our application of these new skills. It's perfectly natural and wonderul to do a little celebrating over our newfound competence. Which is what the last post was about.

Besides the joy of accomplishment there's another aspect to reaching Step 3 that I feel we should think about for a bit. It's a precursor to what happens in Step 4.

Ok. Enough Step 2, Step 3, Step 4, and big words. Here's the deal, plain and simple.

Wouldn't you like to know for sure that you can do something rather than just thinking you can?

Let me bring it home and lay it on the doorstep, so to speak. I'll use Katie and I as an example.

Katie is often on the back of my bike. She loves to ride. Sometimes I'll be sitting around the house on a Saturday. On those rare weekends when I'm not teaching, that is. I may have ridden a thousand miles during the week. I wouldn't feel deprived by not riding on a Saturday. Katie will suggest a ride. She's more tied down during the week and so weekends are her free time. Katie's a great passenger and I love having her with me and experiencing riding adventures together.

My lovely bride has an endorsement of her own. She took a class, passed the skills test, and got endorsed. We bought a bike for her. The vast majority of the time, though, Katie wants to be my passenger. Like I say, she's a great passenger and I love having her close. Katie, being an endorsed rider, is well aware of the risks. As am I. She's a great passenger because she understands what's happening as we ride. One time we were out on some country roads and riding Sophie. On a particular corner one day I gently, and on purpose, touched my right foot peg onto the pavement and held it there during the entire time the bike was leaned. Instead of feeling somebody frantically beating on my back, I heard:

"Man, that was soooo smooth!"

It's time to bring this thing home. Katie is excited about riding with me. Despite having a rider's awareness of the risk. Why? One, because it's extremely enjoyable. Secondly, she can relax and enjoy because she trusts my judgement and riding skills.

Here's my big question to myself: Am I worthy of that trust? Not just because I think I might be if the time came. That's conjecture. Conjecture may or may not save our bacon.

At the risk of sounding overly romantic, this woman is my best buddy. She's given me the precious gift of her love, friendship, and loyalty. Her being in my life has made it so much more awesome than it would have been otherwise. This is a woman whom I fiercely love and really love spending time with. Do you start to see the importance this girl has in my life?

I don't take this at all lightly. I don't want to just think I could do the right thing competently if I had to while we were riding. Conjecture isn't nearly good enough compared to the precious passenger blessing my bike seat. I want to know for sure. I know that time and unseen occurrence befall all of us. There are no magic bullets or protective force fields. On the other hand, I want to know that I have whatever skills may be required to stack the odds in our favor as much as humanly possible. If there is a failure somewhere I don't want it to be mine.

And I do know. I have actually done these maneuvers under real world conditions. I don't have to wonder if I can successfully swerve at highway speeds. Been there, done that. It takes a very firm press on the handgrip to make a bike move off line at speed. I know how much because I've done it at over 70 miles per hour. Two up, by the way. I don't have to wonder if doing a maximum braking stop at 35 miles per hour will mean I can still do it successfully at 65 or 70 mph. Hey, things happen at this speed. I've done it repeatedly at those speeds and higher. ( more on that part in just a bit )

Having ACTUALLY DONE IT, repeatedly and successfully, is a source of great comfort and satisfaction. Sure, I scared myself in the process. Yes, it was hard. But this is Katie I'm talking about. You get the picture.

How about you? Would you rather wonder or really know? I don't really mean it to sound like a challenge but then again I do. Sometimes it takes a challenge to get us out of our comfort zones. That's a nice place to be but it stifles growth.



I've been blessed with readers who have been regular here for years. Thank you so much for your support. Those who've been around awhile may recognize the photo above. It's a very long skid mark laid down by a front tire during a maximum braking stop at 100 miles per hour. Yes, this was me. Some of you may find this a little over the top. I wouldn't blame you. I don't have much to offer as an excuse save for the power of the moment.

The only thing I can say is that I now know I can do it. I will also add that I now know I really don't ever want to have to do it again. If you care to read about this adventure you can find the post here.

Stay tuned for Step 4. It's way more critical than we might realize.

Miles and smiles,

Dan

I got it!!!

This is the exclamation that often accompanies reaching Step 3 of gaining competence.

Step 3 is when a person realizes that they're making progress on mastering a new skill. Being stuck squarely in Step 2 a rider may be thinking that they'll never get it right. Attempt after attempt is made. During one try a certain element works but another doesn't. Next time the second element works but the first doesn't. Dang it, dang it, dang it!

Then comes the attempt when it all comes together at the same time. Good job. Do it again. And again. I love these moments with a class, be they beginners or more experienced. I never lose the joy of seeing the light come on. Nor in exulting with a rider over their conquest. Step 2 is so satisfying on two counts. Firstly, there's the initial thrill of victory at the conquest. Secondly, the peace of mind in simply knowing we can do something is priceless. We know because we've done it. More than once.

A rider can certainly learn and conquer on their own. As I've written before, however, in my opinion there's a big advantage in learning under the watchful eyes of professional trainers.



This is true for whatever level of experience we have. Here's a group at the end of a Basic class. They're feeling pretty pleased with themselves.



As well they should. These folks have worked hard to master the building blocks. On those blocks they've built some skills that will serve them well on the streets. On top of it all, they conquered a bitterly cold weekend. There's always more to learn, though, isn't there?



This is a group of more experienced riders. They're spending a warm afternoon brushing up on rusty skills plus learning some new ones. The skills being worked on are more advanced but that same joy of conquest and satisfaction is just as strong as the beginners. The satisfaction scale is actually probably a lot higher at this stage. Nothing like having a full tool box and knowing how to use them, is there?

Even professional riders seek out training from qualified instructors. Their investment of time proves that these riders find value in formal training and feedback.



An instructor can share with a rider some valuable feedback. One really valuable thing we might not think of is just plain positive comments. Knowing what we're doing right frees us to concentrate on other things. It's the typical, "I got that down, now I can work on this other thing".

Instructors can see things that the rider often isn't aware of. A great example is during maximum braking. There's more to the process than just a short stop without falling down. We practice under controlled conditions. The braking chutes are clean, if not always dry! There is no conflicting traffic. Students do feel a certain amount of stress and tension. It's nothing compared to what they'll feel on the streets when their maximum braking is done in response to a critical incident. In those kind of situations their technique absolutely must be right. During practice, however, the students can sometimes get away with less than perfect technique. Which is where the instructors come in. We help to make the technique perfect.

For basic riders we're looking for certain things like one smooth and progressive squeeze of the brake lever. That's pretty much what the beginner riders are capable of absorbing. As the experience level of the class goes up, we're looking at things more closely.



We watch how the front cowling progresses downwards toward the front fender, for example. Granted, some bikes don't have a cowling. Like certain Bonnevilles without tachometers in Key West, for example. Nonetheless, we know what to look for, even then. We can then offer very precise feedback for improvement.

While a rider may only be aware of how firmly or smoothly they're squeezing, instructors can break it down further. We see the initial squeeze. We see variations in the whole progression of the lever application. We see the end of the squeeze. Did you know that a rider can skid the front tire at the end of the stop as well as at the beginning? We can see exactly where in the process mistakes are made and help with some very fine tuning.

Same goes with the rear brake application. I've had riders ask me why they keep sliding the rear tire with too much pressure? On the surface the answer may seem obvious. One would be tempted to simply tell the rider not to press too much with their foot. There's more to it than that, though. There are dynamics involved that most people aren't really aware of.

Things like the human response to brace themselves for an impending impact. Isn't that really the thing that's on our mind during maximum braking? Sure, we're hoping to avoid the impact by stopping short of the hazard, but what if we fail? See, that's the thing our mind is thinking about deep down. We hope we stop but our deep primal urge is to brace for the possible crash.

In a car we brace with all four limbs. Or all we have, anyway. Two on the steering wheel and two on the floor. Both feet press hard. The left foot on the floorboard or clutch and the right foot on the brake pedal. In a car we want hard pressure on the brake pedal. Not so much on a bike. Okay, not much at all, really. Yet our brains tell us from deep down to press hard. Both from the motor skills we've picked up from driving and from the instinct to brace for a worst case outcome.

In answer to the rider's question, then, my answer would be to tell the rider to brace their knees up tight against the tank of the bike. With knees out, the large muscles of the upper leg are pressing down on the brake pedal. By pressing the knees hard against the tank, it both helps keep the rider down in the seat of the bike and forces the smaller muscles of the lower leg and foot into service. Since these muscles are less powerful but capable of receiving greater feedback from what they feel, much more control of the rear brake application is possible.

Again, I'm not saying that a rider shouldn't practice on their own. Just the opposite, in fact. Perfect practice is what makes perfect. There isn't enough time in a class to get to that point. On the other hand, there is a big difference between training and practice. I'll go into that in some other post.

Having trained under a professional, our practice is more productive because we're practicing the correct things. We move from "I THINK I got it" to "I KNOW I got it!"

That's where the real fun and satisfaction of Step 3 comes from.

I was going to tell you a story or two about a couple of individuals who are great examples of what this post is about. Going to have to save them for the next post, though. You'll really enjoy them, so please come back!

Miles and smiles,

Dan

Brake time!

Time to shake off the new baby euphoria and get back to work.

I had a meeting in Portland. Afterwards I cruised by Lloyd Center Mall. I like to park the bike inside the parking structure. Seems more protected that way, for some reason. There's a place near Barnes and Noble that's not really motorcycle parking but where Security never bothers a motorcycle that happens to land there. Riding up Halsey Street, I was greeted by this.

Seriously. True story. What's the military term? NSTIW, I believe. "No s**t, there I was!"

Not only did I avoid trouble, but my skill level was so high I saw it early enough to get stopped and take a photo while it was happening.

All right, so I admit to coming back and taking a photo of a different car. Despite my jesting, this was a real life situation. The kind riders encounter all the time. It seemed a great illustration of what we had talked about earlier.

What's the difference between one year's experience repeated several times over and having several years' progressive experience?

Let's use this scenario to break it down a bit more. We'll look at other situations down the road as I see things that are applicable. Remember how I said we would look at the three levels in situations? This is a good case to use as an illustration.

The worst of the winter weather is past. A rider deems it safe, or comfortable enough, to pull the bike out of hibernation. What a rider also needs to be aware of is that their skills have been in hibernation as well. We humans are interesting creatures. There are two kinds of storage space available in our brains. Most of the space is dedicated to what you might call deep storage. This is where things go that aren't needed too often. Think of this space as the back of a filing cabinet drawer.

Some space is dedicated to storing things that are needed often and quickly. This is like the front of the top drawer. Unfortunately, the space available here is much smaller, and thus more limited, than the deep storage space. If something in this space ends up not being used for a while, it's moved elsewhere to make room for new things. Motor skills, or what you might call "mind-muscle connections" are examples of things that get shuffled between these file drawers. Often used connections are kept readily accessible while less frequently used ones get filed deeper. Which means it takes the brain a bit longer to find and put them on the table. That can be a bad thing if we need them RIGHT NOW!

It's a good thing for a rider to go out and encourage the brain to move important motor skills back to the quickly accessible storage space. In this case, to go out and re-establish the mind-muscle connections involved in smooth braking. Simply put, to practice in a parking lot or someplace where it's safe to do so. It's important to be smooth when braking. It's also important to be able to stop quickly.

I've talked to many riders who practice quick stops. Once or twice. They get up a little speed, pick a braking marker, then do the squeeze and press thing. Since their skills are a bit rusty to start with, and might not have been at a high level in the first place, the first couple of attempts are pretty rough.

"Oooh, that was scary!"

No more attempts are made. A rider figures that's good enough and they will just deal with it when the time comes. After all, they know the basics of brake application in their heads. For far too many riders, that is the extent of the quick stop practice.

This is what I call Level One. It's a well populated level, unfortunately. These riders might be lucky enough to go a whole riding season and not have a close call. The question always remains, though. What if? Some have to answer that question without quite being prepared. Ouch!

Remember that "mind-muscle" connection that's supposed to go into the front of the file drawer? Guess what? This ain't no magical drawer. If we didn't put it there, we aren't going to find it there. Putting it another way, I had a training sergeant who told me,

"You won't rise to the occasion, you'll default to your level of training."

When we face that "moment" the only thing our brains will be able to pull out of the drawer is what we have put in there. Oh sure, we might think we know how to brake on an intellectual level and we'll think of what we need to do in order to stop quickly and correctly when the time comes.

I've studied what happens to humans under stress. Actually been there several times, too! You know the kind of high adrenaline situations I'm talking about. When every orifice in our body wants to pucker. When we will never fall off the bike because we have the seat's fabric tucked tightly up you know where. I'm here to tell you that there's not much intellectual activity going on. That's why our responses are called "reactions".

Another way to look at it is to say we react with whatever our habit is. Which makes the secret easy to figure out. Make sure the habit there to fall back on is the correct thing. You knew it would come back to this, didn't you? The answer is practice. Lot's of it.

What really needs to happen is repeated quick stops. That one went well? Good. Do it again. And again. And again. The muscle actions involved need to literally become second nature. They should happen without too much thinking about it going on. I'm not going to go into the specific actual application of the brakes. This is more about strategy.

I do want to mention one quick thing, though. If we do slide the rear tire, and avoid falling down or a high side, does the sliding tire matter? Definitely. The net result will be longer stopping distance. It might only make a difference of three, four, or five feet. Take a look at the photo above. Notice how Elvira's sidestand is at the 15 foot mark. Now look at this photo.

Look where the leading edge of Elvira's front tire is. It's at the 19 foot mark, just four feet farther forward. Just four feet? No big deal? What if the car's bumper were at the 15 foot mark? Where would that put the front wheel of our bike? On a small car that puts it somewhere in the back seat. Yes, every foot counts. Which is why repeated practice and developing the proper mind-muscle connection is so critical.

The good news is that a lot of riders come to our more advanced classes to practice these kind of skills. At the least, they do it on their own. That's wonderful. That's highly commendable. However, it's still only

Level Two.

The next level adds another component to the physical skills. Our definition of an expert rider is

"A rider who uses excellent judgement to avoid using expert skills."

Expert skills are wonderful and, in fact, necessary. By themselves, however, expert skills aren't really enough to keep riders out of trouble. The really great news is that developing these mental skills is more a matter of effort than the passage of time. Many riders go year after year and don't pick up the proper mental skills. A motorcyclist with a short riding season can still work on and develop great mental skills. The key is to carry them over year to year and build on them as we get more saddle time.

Riders who I would call truly experienced and successful have great mental skills. This is how they reach the highest level.

Level Three.

Here is where the skill of getting critical information early does so much to help a rider take care of themself on the streets. I plan to write much more about this skill in coming posts but this one is getting long already. So let's look at it specifically in the context of our opening scenario.

I stated that a rider should be able to stop a motorcycle in no more than 79 feet at 40 mph on a non-abs bike. So let's say that we're 80 feet from the car that pulled out in front of us. Due to our repeated practice we can stop the bike quickly and safely in 75 feet. Score? Not quite.

There's this little thing called reaction time. At 40 mph we're covering 58.66 feet per second. Let's just call it 60 feet per second. If it takes us a half second to react and start braking, which is actually pretty quick, we've covered an additional 30 feet. Suddenly we find that if we can physically stop the bike in 75 feet, we actually need 105 feet to pull off a successful stop. If it takes us a bit longer to react, if we were distracted, or whatever, that distance will vary considerably. Does your head hurt, yet? Is there a better strategy?

Actually, there is. Take a look at the opening photo again. One measure of our success might be how soon we saw the car pulling out in order to have the quickest reaction time possible and get stopped. What if we were to take another look and see if we could be even more prepared, car or no car? Take a look at this photo.

I took this photo before the car pulled out. I don't see a hazard. Or do I? Remember when I introduced this series I stated that key to success is to think like a motorcyclist? Let's do that and see what we find.

Firstly, I know I'm riding in an area with a lot of congestion. It's a major shopping mall in a city of over half a million people. Cars darting in and out of multiple places. Thinking like a motorcyclist, I know I have less protection than if I were in a car. I know it's trickier to stop the bike quickly than it is in a car. I know quick reactions are essential. So I'm covering the clutch and brake levers.

I know it's critical to get information early so I'm aggressively scanning my surroundings. Once I see something I have it on my radar and can track it. However, I find that there's a place I can't see. To my right is a parking structure. I can see into it when I look that way. Cars have to enter and exit this structure someplace. I see the big box truck coming up on my right. I can't see around the front of it. What I do see, however, gives me an early clue to what's there.

Notice how the truck is parked in a painted box sort of parking place? You can see the white lines on the roadside. Now I see there's no parking space immediately in front of the truck. Looking farther ahead, I see the orange cone at the left rear of the big food service truck. It's a little compressed due to my zoom lense, but there's a long space of plain black roadway between the two trucks. Why do you suppose that is?

Probably because that's a way in and out of the parking structure, I figure. An intersection. Since I can't see for sure, but make an educated guess, I'm taking preventative measures. I slow down and move slightly left in my lane. Which means I can see the driveway sooner and any car coming out can see me sooner. I don't count on them seeing me, but I make sure I see them as early as possible.

Sure enough, a car pulls out but it's not even a close call for me. I made use of all the available clues and prepared accordingly. I call the top skills level three, for simplicity, but I personally want my skills at Warp Factor 9!

Again, a rider can get these skills independent of time in the saddle. Riding time will only help hone these skills by putting them into practice. First and foremost is the mindset to acquire mental strategies.

Success secret #2: Physical skills are necessary. Don't rely on them. Get critical information as early as possible. This includes clues, not just the hazard itself.

I know a lot of you are already a Level 3. I figure it never hurts to review. There might be a new way of looking at things that helps put it all in perspective. Whatever your skill level I hope this is useful information.

More to come later.

Miles and smiles,

Dan