I still remember the first award I ever received.
OK, that’s a lie. I grew up during the beginning of the dreaded “Participation Trophy” era, so I surely got some ribbons or certificates for preschool activities that I can no longer recall.
But the first award that ever had any weight to it — I got it more than half my life ago.
It was for a top 15 finish in a Cross Country race — the charter school state championship race for freshmen.
I remember taking my medal and thinking, “I deserve this.”
You see, I was a scrawny kid back then. Couldn’t have weighed more than a buck thirty. I didn’t much care for running long distances, but I did want to play baseball. So, when the Junior Varsity baseball coach approached me about joining the Cross Country team (which he also coached), I was in no position to say no.
But I was also in no position to succeed.
The idea of pushing myself to the limit was a bridge too far for my 14-year-old self. So, I ate greasy food and downing sodas before practice. I walked backcountry portions of the course. And I counted down the days until I wouldn’t have to run quarter mile windsprints uphill in a driving rainstorm.
When I won that medal in the last race of the year, I viewed it as my reward for time served. I walked away from Cross Country, never to return.
Only now — 15 years later — am I running outdoors regularly again.
***
I still remember the second award I ever received.
I got it my senior year of college, at the student TV awards ceremony. It was a ceremony I helped organize, through my role as treasurer of the student broadcast council.
I spent most of the evening sitting near the back of the courtyard where the ceremony was being held. I deliberately stayed out of the spotlight, as my friends and mentors picked up well-deserved accolades for their work with UMTV — our college TV station.
This night was about them, and I was happy just to be a part of it.
One of the final awards of the evening was the Rex Pompadur Award, honoring exceptional service to UMTV. I was preparing to applaud the winner when I heard:
“And the award goes to…Dylan Brooks.”
I froze.
“Is Dylan here?” the presenter asked.
Still stunned, I shakily stood up and took the long walk to the podium, nearly tripping over an audio cable on the way there. I sheepishly accepted the award to loud applause. Then I took the long walk back to my seat, wondering what in the world had just happened.
Never in a million years did I think I would win an award that night. And when I did, my only thought was, “I don’t deserve this.”
Don’t get me wrong. I was proud to volunteer many hours of my week to writing and producing various news and sportcasts on UMTV. But there were so many others who put in just as much time, if not more.
I felt the award belonged to them, not me. In fact, I felt so strongly about this that I emailed the UMTV faculty advisors, asking to return the award. They refused my request, explaining that I was indeed worthy of the award. So, I reluctantly held on it.
***
Fast forward to today. I still have both awards.
The Rex Pompadur award sits on a display tower in my living room, underneath only two items — a picture of my family at Christmas and my grandfather’s Naval portrait from World War II. The Cross Country medal is hidden in a closet.
The placement of these items speaks volumes.
You see, I’ve grown a lot in the years since I first put that medal around my neck. In particular, I’ve learned that nothing in life is granted, and that a life chasing accolades is a life wasted.
I’ve come to appreciate the journey over the destination, the grind over the glory. And I’ve witnessed firsthand how helping others to achieve their hopes and dreams can help me achieve mine more than a plaque, medal or framed certificate ever could.
In short, I’ve developed a healthy aversion to the award mentality, and all it represents.
Today, I’d rather display the award I didn’t expect — and the one I didn’t feel I deserved — to the one I desired for all the wrong reasons. It’s a better representation of who I am and what I stand for.
And while I’m not one to throw stones, I do feel the world would be a better place if more of us practiced Award Mentality Aversion.
For the dogged quest for trophies and accolades runs can corrupt us, keeping us from being team players. It can lead to self-absorbedness and narcissism, and make us less likely to share and communicate.
This is a particularly problematic trend in our divisive society. And it runs counter to the spirit of awards, which are meant to be more an honor than a giveaway.
But it’s not too late for us to change the narrative. It’s not too late to shun the award mentality and focus on what really matters.
Ready to begin?