Licensing is the feeling that doing something 'good' grants one permission to do something 'bad.'kieferpix/istockphoto
This summer, while at the peak of my distance running powers, convinced I was about to run the best half-marathon of my 15-year-long road racing career, I made a fatal, rookie mistake.
I skipped the gym. Between my glorious – if not Icarian – running workouts, daily protein and creatine supplementation, and diligent sleep schedule, I neglected leg day. Weight training, for me, is key in avoiding injuries. I’ve known that for years. But there was always something eating away at those biweekly half-hours: a good friend’s wedding, a family trip to Europe, the new Knives Out movie at TIFF. Besides, I was already running 120 kilometres a week. Surely, that in itself would make me strong enough to stay healthy, right?
Wrong. By early September, I had strained a lower back muscle and developed nerve pain that made running impossible. I ditched my goal race, accepting that all that work had been for naught.
A psychologist could have told me that I was engaging in licensing: the feeling that doing something “good” grants one permission to do something “bad” – and act in ways that contradict one’s long-term goals. In this case, I felt I was doing so well in one part of my training that I could afford to do not so well in another part of it. It might have been laziness, but at least it was earned.
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We all do it: a cheat day appears somewhat warranted after eating cleanly all week, and ice cream always feels more deserved after a hard workout. Licensing might even be the culprit behind an odd correlation between running and drinking alcohol – two behaviours that should not intuitively go hand in hand.
Michael Inzlicht is no exception. The social psychologist and neuroscientist at the University of Toronto is an avid pickleball player, who admits to occasionally skipping his injury prevention drills before the game. “In health and wellness, we are less likely to do the things that are less fun, or that feel less likely to give us credit – either in our own eyes or in the eyes of others,” he says.
That latter part – “in the eyes of others” – sent a shiver down my back. Was my lapse performative in nature? I admit: as is the case with many of us, my exercise regimen is a lot more public facing than it used to be. I have a Strava account to feed, Apple Fitness rings to complete, a readily available sleep score that I can share on Instagram if I so choose. Yet, if I skip my hamstring curls, nobody will know the difference.
I tried to remove licensing from my repertoire entirely; shutting off my brain to impulses, and instead plowing through my subsequent workouts like an automaton devoid of human emotion. Turns out, that’s also a bad idea.
“If you’re too monofocused, you’ll forgo social opportunities, burn out and start to hate the thing you’re chasing,” Inzlicht says.
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Doing the opposite, though, and excessively licensing destructive behaviour can be just as harmful. That’s the “what the heck” effect. For example, you might have one bite of cake, and then think, the day’s ruined and transgress again.
The more we justify things to ourselves, the more flexible we get with our own code. For example, athletes who can justify doping eventually feel less guilty doing so. Something like that happened to me: once I justified missing a strength workout, I felt it easier to miss a second one.
Licensing, it seems, is like that one nagging aunt: impossible to silence, disastrous if you let her dominate the room. The trick isn’t to banish her, but to learn to live with her.
So how do we do that? Inzlicht says: Don’t just ignore the impulse to license; plan rewards. “Humans are animals, and all animals respond to incentives. If you pair something difficult with something you enjoy – what we call temptation bundling – it can actually make you more consistent over time.” A planned indulgence, unlike a spontaneous one, keeps you going and keeps you sane.
In other words, licensing oneself in advance can help keep things fun, motivating and in perspective.
So, now I plan to allow myself an extra treat – Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups are undefeated, in my mind – not after a good run, but after a solid strength workout. But also maybe after a good run, too.