Ferrari Minds and Chocolate Rewards

Coming back home after four months away felt unreal. The second I walked into my room at my parents’ house in Alsace, I finally breathed properly again. Everything smelled familiar, even if the room itself looked like a storage war zone because I had dumped half my apartment into it. Between unpacking, reorganizing everything, and fixing my car the day before, I already felt like I was competing in some strange engineering version of gymnastics. And next week wasn’t going to be easier. I still had four-hour training sessions every day before the French Team Championships started on Thursday.

Fruitloop asked me how the previous competition had gone, and honestly, it had been one of those strange competitions where almost nothing worked exactly as planned, but somehow it still became one of my favorites. I tested a lot of new elements. Most of them failed completely, but I had fun, and my teammates did too. One guy from my team became French champion in the 19–21 category, which was incredible to watch. During the high bar final, I even improvised as his coach. I stood there pretending I knew exactly what I was doing while trying not to panic. He ended up fourth, just missing the podium by more than a point, but the guys ahead of him had massive departure scores, so honestly, his result was still really strong.

She also asked about my ankles, because they had been a disaster recently. Surprisingly, they held up well. I fixed the problems I had on floor and vault, and all my landings were clean. For the first time in a while, I felt like I could actually train correctly for the next championships without constantly thinking about pain.

Then Fruitloop asked when we should meet for our final lesson next week. We went through the usual impossible scheduling process. Tuesday didn’t work because she had meetings , but eventually we agreed on Monday morning at eleven. Easy.

After that, she suddenly introduced a topic I didn’t expect at all: gamification.

At first, I had no idea what she meant. I thought it sounded like some productivity method engineers invent to sell expensive notebooks. But when she explained it was about turning tasks into games, it immediately made sense to me. In gymnastics, we do that all the time with younger athletes. If you simply tell little kids to repeat drills for an hour, they get bored instantly. But if you turn it into a competition or a challenge, suddenly they become completely invested. Sometimes we reward them with sweets like lollipops. Sometimes tiny medals. Children will fight harder for candy than for Olympic gold.

Fruitloop asked if I used gamification in my own life. Honestly, not really. Cleaning my room has never felt like a fun game. But when she described timing herself to clean her house in under two hours, I started thinking maybe I should try something similar. Add music, turn it into a speedrun, make the task feel less painful. The problem is that she works from home with her husband nearby, so she can’t always blast music while cleaning. I laughed because my version of a reward system is much simpler: finish the task quickly so I can go eat snacks afterward.

Food is apparently my universal motivation system.

She rewards herself with chocolate and coffee, although she admitted she often forgets the chocolate exists because it stays hidden in the cupboard. That sounded impossible to me. Forgetting chocolate should be medically studied.

Then we started talking about apps. I realized I actually use gamification constantly without noticing it. Duolingo does it with streaks and badges for my English. My Apple Watch does the same thing for sports. Last month, I had a challenge to complete forty-two minutes of training fourteen times during the month to unlock a trophy. And somehow, those stupid digital trophies actually work. Fruitloop told me about Strava cycling challenges where people compete for “King of the Mountain” titles on specific routes. Humans really will do anything for imaginary crowns.

She explained betting too, because I didn’t really understand the English word at first. We don’t really gamble money in gymnastics, but we absolutely punish failure. If someone misses a new element, sometimes the consequence is fifty push-ups. That’s close enough.

At one point, Fruitloop asked whether I preferred compliments or personal best scores. That question was more difficult. For me, context matters more than praise. If I’m injured or exhausted and still perform well, I care more about understanding the reality of the performance than hearing fake compliments. Deep down, athletes always know if something was truly good.

When she asked if I currently used gamification for anything important, I immediately thought about my engineering project. I’m developing an application using video game systems to teach data analysis and trajectory optimization for pilots. The funny thing is that I accidentally gamified my own development process too. I sit with my laptop, solving problems like levels in a game, and suddenly hours disappear without me noticing. Most of the time, I work on it late at night between eight p.m. and midnight because everything is calmer then. No sunlight. No distractions. Just focus.

Fruitloop understood immediately. She said evenings are the same for her because her son is asleep, the house is quieter, and there are fewer interruptions. During the day, there’s always laundry, cooking, or something else demanding attention.

Then she asked about tasks I avoid doing. Instantly, I knew the answer: reviewing my old engineering courses about electric motors and power electronics before my internship. I always postpone it because technically I already know most of the material. But at the same time, I know I would feel more confident if I revised everything properly. She suggested starting with second-year material next week. I thought maybe I could use AI to generate exercises for me or set a timer to study thirty to sixty minutes every day with a reward afterward.

That led to a conversation about consistency versus perfection, and unfortunately she attacked me with facts.

I admitted that I’m a perfectionist. My instinct is always to do something perfectly once so I never have to redo it. But Fruitloop reminded me that gymnastics doesn’t work like that. Nobody starts perfect. You improve by showing up every day. She was right, of course. My first trophy came when I was six years old after months of repetitive training. Back then, we didn’t have the highest difficulty scores, but we had the best execution. Perfection came from repetition, not intensity. I realized the same thing applies to studying. Ten hours in one day means nothing if you never review again afterward.

When she asked how I challenge myself in gymnastics now, my brain immediately jumped to progression. If I can do a backflip, then maybe the next goal is a double backflip — preferably without destroying my ankles. Or maybe the challenge becomes achieving ninety percent execution quality compared to the departure score.

Then I told her something slightly insane.

The night before, I had dreamed about a completely new movement on high bar. Not metaphorically. Literally dreamed it. And somehow it made enough sense that now I actually wanted to test it in training next week.

Fruitloop immediately told me not to kill myself.

I promised nothing.

Unfortunately, even if the movement works, it probably won’t magically get me onto the podium because the gap is still too large. But maybe it could gain me half a point or even a full point, which in gymnastics is massive.

Later we talked about individual versus team pressure. Individually, things feel simpler because success or failure only affects you. In a team, the pressure becomes heavier because you don’t want to disappoint everyone else. She compared it to university group projects where one lazy person forces everyone else to compensate. I laughed because that happens constantly. Honestly, sometimes I prefer doing everything alone because at least then the quality depends entirely on me.

Apparently Fruitloop feels the same way about cleaning the house with her husband.

We also discussed rewards. In gymnastics, I care more about medals, recognition, and making my coaches proud than about money. But for engineering projects or work, money matters because it creates opportunities — holidays, investments, apartments, freedom. Still, money has downsides too. If people only care about payment, teams become toxic when things go badly.

Apparently German clubs pay French gymnasts pretty well to help their teams. Maybe I should start exporting myself professionally.

At the end of the lesson, the conversation became completely ridiculous in the best way possible.

Fruitloop asked me what gamification would be if it were a car.

Easy. A Ferrari or a Porsche GT3. Fast, exciting, addictive.

If earning a badge had a taste? Chocolate, obviously. All types.

If I could invent one impossible reward for finishing tasks? Instantly downloading all engineering knowledge or an entire language directly into my brain like a science-fiction movie.

If gamification were a sport? Athletics, because it contains so many different disciplines and challenges.

And if gamification were an animal?

A dog.

Because dogs always want to play.

Fruitloop told me about her grandmother’s dachshund that never stopped chasing a ball. Her own dogs either obsess over games or just sleep, eat, and hunt lizards all day. Honestly, that sounded like the perfect summary of human motivation too.

Before ending the call, she told me to enjoy training and turn it into a game.

The funny thing is, I already do.