Editor’s note: This story is part of Peak, The Athletic’s desk covering leadership, personal development and performance through the lens of sports. Follow Peak here.

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Joe Boylan worked in the NBA for a decade with the Minnesota Timberwolves, New Orleans Pelicans, Memphis Grizzlies, Golden State Warriors and Boston Celtics. He is the co-founder of Cognition Coach.

Harrison Barnes employs his own year-round strength coach and has a personal team of video analysts who provide him with feedback and game plans for his opponents. From his diet to his sleep, he’s dedicated to optimizing his career.

The 14-year NBA veteran has played all 82 games for three consecutive seasons, making him one of the most durable players in the NBA.

That kind of durability doesn’t happen by accident. It comes from stacking small advantages that most people never see, including a mental drill that requires no weights, no sweat and barely ten minutes a day.

I first met Barnes in 2008. His mom had sent him to Tim Grover, the world-renowned trainer who worked with Michael Jordan and Kobe Bryant. As soon as the workout ended, Harrison wanted to know what my thoughts were on his workout. “What NBA player would you compare me to?” he asked. This wasn’t a normal rising junior in high school, I thought.

Then, in 2013, I was an assistant coach for the Golden State Warriors when we drafted Barnes with the seventh pick. We both eventually left to work for other teams, but our connection remained. In 2020, when he wanted to improve his rebounding, he called me.

“I want to average a career high in rebounds,” he said.

Around that time, I found myself rethinking what it meant to practice. I started wondering if players could keep improving without touching a ball. So much of coaching is about controlling variables, reps, drills and data. I began to see that focus, emotion and confidence under fatigue could also be trained.

I’d always believed toughness was built through sweat. Then, I started to see it could be built through stillness, too. If visualization works for Olympians and surgeons, why not NBA players who share that ever-present pressure?

My old assistant coach at Emerson College recommended the documentary “In Search Of Greatness,” which featured original interviews from Wayne Gretzky, Pele and Jerry Rice. In the documentary, Gretzky talked about how, as a kid, he would watch hockey games on TV with a pad of paper in his lap and draw the patterns of the game.

“We taped a lot of famous pictures on the locker room door: Bobby Orr, Denis Potvin, Jean Beliveau, all holding the Stanley Cup. We’d stand back and look at them and envision ourselves doing it. I really believe, if you visualize yourself doing something, you can make that image come true. I must have rehearsed it ten thousand times.”

The documentary also featured Michael Jordan. Guided by coach Phil Jackson, Jordan and, later, Kobe Bryant, practiced using their imagination to envision successful outcomes on the way to 11 combined championships.

Research and modern neuroscience have confirmed it. A 1997 study found it worked: Mental practice, when structured with vivid, multi-sensory cues, can be as effective as physical practice for improving free-throw shooting accuracy in trained players. Researchers like Wendy Suzuki at NYU have shown that mental imagery activates many of the same neural pathways as physical movement.

Simply put, it’s reps for your nervous system.

The examples of MJ and Kobe were helpful as a coach in establishing credibility with players in their 20s with different ranges of experience with mental skills. Harrison idolized both players growing up and bought in right away.

“So how do we do it?” he asked.

“Tomorrow at 4 p.m., when you get to the arena, go out onto the court,” I told him. “Into the crowd, even. Put in your headphones and listen to the MP3 I’m going to send you.”

The audio file was five minutes and 40 seconds long and featured my voice guiding him through a visualization (or, better termed, imagery because we also wanted to incorporate taste, touch and smell). We had worked with the team’s sports psychologist to come up with the script. It was a five-to-10-minute exercise, a personalized meditation that might just help channel his energy.

We also pointed out examples on film when Harrison was at his best: holding off the opponent, getting an arm into the air early and jumping after the ball. He was usually in the same few positions on the court when he had the most frequent opportunities for rebounds.

The next day, Harrison listened to the recording.

Let’s start by getting comfortable wherever you are. You can be sitting down or standing up — whatever feels comfortable for you over these next few minutes.

Now, closing your eyes, breathing in through your nose, sealing your lips and exhaling through your nose. Trying to exhale for as long as you possibly can, extending your breaths and pausing at the end of each exhalation. Inhaling and exhaling. Deepening your breath, letting your ribs spread a bit more as you focus on this breathing your doing now — and will be doing in the heat of the moment, too. Always there to remind you in the present moment: This safe harbor exists for you.

You are standing on the sideline of a familiar gym, in a huddle with your team…

You see your team jog back onto the court. You smell the hard work represented by your players’ sweat. You taste the cool water run down your throat as you take a drink. You hear the heightened noise from the crowd begin to amplify. You feel the warmth of your body.

You are comfortable and focused. Breathing. Staying present.

Imported into his Spotify, it became an every-game habit. He could listen on the bus, in the locker room or on the training table. Sometimes he would listen the night before. A few weeks in, he told me it felt like déjà vu: “Like I’ve already seen the ball come off the rim before it happens.” That was the sign of a player whose mind and body are running the same script. It wasn’t superstition; it was repetition through imagination.

He finished 2021 with 6.6 rebounds per game. It was a 1.5 rebounds per game increase from the previous season, and a new career high.

If a veteran NBA forward can use visualization to squeeze out an extra rebound a night, what could it do for a manager rehearsing a presentation or a parent before a difficult talk?

Coaches started asking for their own version: not to chase rebounds, but to stay calm in timeouts, to know what to say after a frustrating first half, to see the moment before it arrived.

You can try your own version. Before a meeting, a workout or a tough conversation, close your eyes and walk through it. Picture the space, the sounds, your body posture and even your breathing. Notice tension and let it drop. The goal isn’t to control every outcome. It’s to rehearse calm, focus and clarity when the moment arrives.

Barnes proved that visualization isn’t a replacement for hard work. It’s a multiplier. It’s the mental version of shooting extra free throws after practice.

The reps just happen in your head.