“The Heart of a Swimmer vs. the Heart of a Runner,” read the headline.
Here we go, I thought, clicking on a recent New York Times article by Gretchen Reynolds. When you’re a runner, as I fancy myself to be, you grow accustomed to people scolding you about how awful the activity is.
Hard on the knees and joints. Too much pounding. Increased risk of heart attack for those just starting. Too much exposure to the sun.
These same people tout the advantages of cycling and swimming, even when I tell them I find cycling too inconvenient and that I sink whenever I come into contact with water. (At least I’m not a witch.)
So I was prepared for Reynolds’ article to be more of the same, an excoriation of my hobby based on some egghead’s idea of hard science. Surely, thought I, the heart of a runner has been found to be deficient, just as his knees and joints are.
And then I had an epiphany, just as the article opened on my screen and I was starting to read, already disgruntled by what I was certain would be there. My revelation was this: I was biased against information that I hadn’t even read yet.
I had identified a personal prejudice, some weird kissing cousin of confirmation bias, where people seek out only information that supports what they already believe. In my case, I was discounting information out of hand because I was preemptively certain it would contradict me.
Suddenly aware of this glitch in my thinking, I monitored my reading and reactions carefully. The article began with an acknowledgement that the hearts of both elite runners and swimmers were more efficient than the hearts of sedentary people. Okay so far, I thought.
Reynolds proceeded to note how a recent study had found “interesting if small differences” in the left ventricles of swimmers vs. runners. My inner eye rolled in anticipation, even as a more objective part of myself noted the cynicism and lack of objectivity I was demonstrating.
Surprisingly, however, the article found that the left ventricles of runners were more efficient than swimmers’, likely because running is performed vertically, while swimming is done horizontally. A runner’s left ventricle, then, must battle gravity to move blood back to the heart, which means that it becomes stronger and more efficient than a swimmer’s.
Reynolds even noted that it might behoove swimmers to add some running to their regular workouts.
As I read, I could feel my mental defenses lowering, allowing me to become more accepting. The science agreed with me, so it must be right, something I was far less willing to concede when I thought the research would go against me.
The scientific bottom line is that both elite swimmers and runners have cardiovascular advantages over people who don’t exercise. Researchers hope that the same is true for those of us who are far less elite participants.
More compelling for me, however, was the cognitive bottom line — how quickly I was ready to deep-six information based on a cognitive bias.
Cognitive bias helps to explain how so many people can be snared by fake news. Those who are absolutely certain, for example, that human-influenced climate change is a hoax will be more likely to write off even the most compelling evidence that it is real and to hang on every word of less authoritative sources. Likewise, parents who believe vaccinations cause autism will cling to anecdotal “evidence” in the face of overwhelming consensus from the scientific community that no such link exists. Supporters and detractors of President Trump will continue to fortify themselves behind their respective walls built by right- or left-leaning news organizations of dubious reputations.
And for readers who believe they are exempt from such fallibility, there is a name for this misconception, too — a bias blindspot.
The implications for vigorous and healthy debate aren’t good. We may smile and nod when presented with alternative viewpoints because we’ve been taught to be polite, yet we internally consign such information to the cerebral dustbin, even as we fancy ourselves as open-minded.
Trying to dissuade anybody of a deeply held belief in the course of a 750-word column or even a two-hour debate is asking too much. Maybe the best we can hope for when talking with somebody whose views are diametrically opposed to our own is to move the needle of their belief ever so slightly, to have them at least entertain the possibility that some small part of what we say has merit.
Think of it as swimming against the tide or running uphill — difficult to do, but worth it for our health.
chris.schillig@yahoo.com
@cschillig on Twitter
Here we go, I thought, clicking on a recent New York Times article by Gretchen Reynolds. When you’re a runner, as I fancy myself to be, you grow accustomed to people scolding you about how awful the activity is.
Hard on the knees and joints. Too much pounding. Increased risk of heart attack for those just starting. Too much exposure to the sun.
These same people tout the advantages of cycling and swimming, even when I tell them I find cycling too inconvenient and that I sink whenever I come into contact with water. (At least I’m not a witch.)
So I was prepared for Reynolds’ article to be more of the same, an excoriation of my hobby based on some egghead’s idea of hard science. Surely, thought I, the heart of a runner has been found to be deficient, just as his knees and joints are.
And then I had an epiphany, just as the article opened on my screen and I was starting to read, already disgruntled by what I was certain would be there. My revelation was this: I was biased against information that I hadn’t even read yet.
I had identified a personal prejudice, some weird kissing cousin of confirmation bias, where people seek out only information that supports what they already believe. In my case, I was discounting information out of hand because I was preemptively certain it would contradict me.
Suddenly aware of this glitch in my thinking, I monitored my reading and reactions carefully. The article began with an acknowledgement that the hearts of both elite runners and swimmers were more efficient than the hearts of sedentary people. Okay so far, I thought.
Reynolds proceeded to note how a recent study had found “interesting if small differences” in the left ventricles of swimmers vs. runners. My inner eye rolled in anticipation, even as a more objective part of myself noted the cynicism and lack of objectivity I was demonstrating.
Surprisingly, however, the article found that the left ventricles of runners were more efficient than swimmers’, likely because running is performed vertically, while swimming is done horizontally. A runner’s left ventricle, then, must battle gravity to move blood back to the heart, which means that it becomes stronger and more efficient than a swimmer’s.
Reynolds even noted that it might behoove swimmers to add some running to their regular workouts.
As I read, I could feel my mental defenses lowering, allowing me to become more accepting. The science agreed with me, so it must be right, something I was far less willing to concede when I thought the research would go against me.
The scientific bottom line is that both elite swimmers and runners have cardiovascular advantages over people who don’t exercise. Researchers hope that the same is true for those of us who are far less elite participants.
More compelling for me, however, was the cognitive bottom line — how quickly I was ready to deep-six information based on a cognitive bias.
Cognitive bias helps to explain how so many people can be snared by fake news. Those who are absolutely certain, for example, that human-influenced climate change is a hoax will be more likely to write off even the most compelling evidence that it is real and to hang on every word of less authoritative sources. Likewise, parents who believe vaccinations cause autism will cling to anecdotal “evidence” in the face of overwhelming consensus from the scientific community that no such link exists. Supporters and detractors of President Trump will continue to fortify themselves behind their respective walls built by right- or left-leaning news organizations of dubious reputations.
And for readers who believe they are exempt from such fallibility, there is a name for this misconception, too — a bias blindspot.
The implications for vigorous and healthy debate aren’t good. We may smile and nod when presented with alternative viewpoints because we’ve been taught to be polite, yet we internally consign such information to the cerebral dustbin, even as we fancy ourselves as open-minded.
Trying to dissuade anybody of a deeply held belief in the course of a 750-word column or even a two-hour debate is asking too much. Maybe the best we can hope for when talking with somebody whose views are diametrically opposed to our own is to move the needle of their belief ever so slightly, to have them at least entertain the possibility that some small part of what we say has merit.
Think of it as swimming against the tide or running uphill — difficult to do, but worth it for our health.
chris.schillig@yahoo.com
@cschillig on Twitter
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