Cubing

I think a lot of people who know me kind of in passing know me as that Rubik's cube guy.

I almost always have one in my jacket pocket or my bag, and if I'm not actively engaged in something else, I'll pull it out and do some solves. It gives me something to do with my hands, and I think it's a nice way to pass the time when I have to wait for something, like standing on line, or taking the train a few stops (longer trips, I'll usually pull out my laptop and do some work or technical reading).

Speed cubing is, unequivocally, a trivial skill, and I've poured at least hundreds, if not thousands of hours into it, but I don't think I've ever really tried to enumerate why I do it.

For context, I learned to solve in high school, with an official Rubik's cube, and used a method where I solved all of the edges first, and then all the corners. The method used 2 algorithms and their mirrors for the whole thing. It took me on average about 1 minute and 30 seconds. I sat on that for a long time, and didn't cube at all for years.

At some point, I think after college, I started getting off-brand speed cubes (which are generally totally superior, and don't cost any extra) and learned a more efficient method for solving. Between the better hardware, learning techniques to turn with my fingers instead of my wrists, and the new method, I dropped my time to around 40 seconds within a couple of weeks.

I learned 7 new algorithms for solving top layer corners, and as I got acclimated to them, my new turning techniques, and my chosen method, my times gradually dropped into the low 20's range.

At that point, they stagnated and, for years, I couldn't break through to sub-20. I'd practice a lot and time myself, and it just wasn't getting better. I'd think my hardware wasn't good enough, or that my fingers were too long and required overly precise movements.

In retrospect, I think I had just lost my beginner's mindset. I felt entitled to progress because I was spending time practicing and just that had worked up to that point. I tried to refine the techniques I'd developed, instead of learning new ones, and my goals were overly broad. i.e. "Get faster" vs. "Do this one step faster".

What I learned, which probably took me too long to realize, was that if practice isn't making you improve, you're practicing the wrong thing, or your practice isn't specific enough.

If you're a golfer, and you just play 18 holes every day without trying to break down what you need to fix in your swing, you'll hit a wall and waste your energy. If you have a perfect swing, but you never pay attention to the wind, or the course condition, you'll hit a wall. You'll be better than average just by virtue of practicing, but you'll never be great without some focus. I'm sure there are endless parallels in any endeavor.

I love the story of Takeru Kobayashi, the competitive eater who doubled the standing record at the Nathan's Coney Island Hot Dog Eating Contest (from 25 to 50 hot dogs and buns eaten in 12 minutes). I don't remember the source, but I remember him saying something like instead of asking himself, "How can I eat more hot dogs?," he asked, "How can I eat one hot dog more easily?" It led him to develop techniques like separating the dogs from the buns and dunking the buns in water and crushing them while eating two dogs at a time, which became common practice.

Ultimately, to get to sub-20, I started practicing steps in isolation, and forcing myself to disconnect my eyes from what my hands were doing, so I could focus on the upcoming step, to eliminate pauses. In dropping under 20 seconds, very little about my turning technique or knowledge has changed. I'm currently getting averages of 5 solves of 15 seconds, so large improvements feel within my reach in a way that they haven't in years.

Each time I hit a wall with speed cubing, it forces me to reflect, and think about the nature of learning and developing skills. It forces me to abandon whatever excuses I'm making if I want to get past it. It forces me to confront bad habits I've developed, and figure out how to write over them. It's learning and practicing how to learn, which is infinitely valuable, even if this particular skill is worthless.

The fact that it is trivial, I think, is an asset. It allows me to experiment with learning and practice methods with no risk, rather than forcing myself to learn these lessons with my career or something on the line. It's the easiest thing to fall into local maxima, refining your suboptimal techniques, rather than learning superior ones, when there are stakes involved. It's good to have a hobby.

Real learning is uncomfortable. It forces you to feel incompetent at something you're doing, which is one of the worst feelings in the world. Your performance will always go down with a new technique before it goes up, and if you want to be good at anything, you have to be comfortable with that discomfort, by understanding that it's temporary.

I think cubing also keeps me humble. I can solve in around 19 seconds at this point, which is absurdly fast for a layperson, respectably fast for people who speed cube, but there are kids like half my age who can solve in half that time.

At the same time, those kids didn't have the years of bad practice and resulting bad habits I had to break. They'll have to find their own thing to struggle with later in their lives to learn the same lessons about learning and reprogramming.