I was a shell of myself.
My legs were tired. My lungs were straining for air. Every inch of my body was begging for a reprieve.
I could have listened. Broken it down. Called it a day.
But there was a quarter-mile left in the race. Now was not the time to give up.
And so, I accelerated. I hit that extra gear I was in no shape to handle. And I let my adrenaline do the rest.
I breezed past a couple of unsuspecting runners, hit the home stretch, and powered through the finish line.
Then I doubled over in a heap of exhaustion.
Accelerate through the wall.
This mantra describes one of my core philosophies.
As I near the finish line, I don’t slow down. Instead, I speed up.
This has been the case with just about any endeavor I’ve taken on.
In my last semester of business school, for instance, I had every reason to coast. I was beaten down from two years straight of strenuous coursework, and balancing my studies with a full-time job. Plus, it was the middle of the Texas summer, and my mind was ripe for wandering.
There wasn’t much left to go full-bore for. But I couldn’t stomach the notion of taking it down a gear. Not when there was still work to be done.
So, I gave my all to those summer classes, right up until the end. I even spent five hours pouring my heart into my last take-home exam. When I hit Submit, I was so drained that I started to shake uncontrollably.
I took a moment to get a hold of myself. Then it was on to the next challenge.
This all might sound strange. But for me, it was perfectly natural.
For I was consumed by the desire to get ahead. I was obsessed with most out of my abilities.
I’d long had grand visions for my life. I had aspirations for the growth I’d see and for the responsibilities I’d take on.
Fulfilling these visions demanded my complete attention, and it left me no room for half-measures. So, I pushed myself to the brink. Then I pushed myself some more.
It was an effective approach — until everything changed.
A global pandemic has brought scores of devastation in recent months.
Death. Joblessness. Isolation.
All have been seen and felt on a previously unfathomable scale.
Those impacts have grabbed the headlines. But the second level effects have also been significant.
One of these effects has been a persistent sense of listlessness.
As gatherings were downsized and events were canceled, the days started to blend together. The usual mile markers on our calendars had disappeared, turning life into an endless fog.
It was a challenge none of us had faced before. And we were all stuck in the quagmire together.
At first, I responded to the situation the way I always had. I kept up with any routines that weren’t neutered by lockdown orders. I steeled myself to get the most out of the dystopia I was living in. I continued to focus on getting ahead.
But it soon became clear that the pandemic was more than a sprint around the track. It was more like a 1000 mile race through the Himalayas.
Endurance would be the key attribute going forward. Survival was all that would matter.
It was difficult for me to face this truth at first. The state of the world had devoured my pathos. I would have to go against my own nature in order to meet the moment.
But I eventually eased into my new reality. A reality where I would dial it up to 8, and not to 11. A reality where I would counteract fire with ice. A reality where I would focus less on getting ahead, and more on getting by.
This shift has had quite the effect on me.
These days, I’m mellower than I used to be. I’m devoted to the here and now, and to surviving the challenges at hand. The future is so uncertain that I refuse to concern myself with it.
It’s strange for me to write these sentiments. But I’m at peace with them.
For far too long, I have sat in judgment of others.
Not because of their background or their beliefs. But because of their levels of motivation.
America has a hardscrabble heritage. A heritage that rewards a go-getter spirit. And I was fully on board with such a mandate.
I couldn’t understand those content with getting by. I couldn’t relate to those without a desire for improvement.
What a miserable existence it must be, going through life so monotonously, I thought.
But then, circumstances thrust me into that same existence. And now, I wonder if I had it wrong all along.
I used to have all kinds of assumptions about getting by. I thought it would make me lazy. I thought it would cause my skills to decline. I thought it would lead me to fail.
But it turns out, those were just my own demons. They were the fears that kept my motivational fire burning.
Those without my wild ambition maintained no connections to my demons. They weren’t slouches or afterthoughts.
If anything, they had what I didn’t. A semblance of balance. A sense of serenity.
I am ashamed I ever doubted them.
At some point, this strange era will end.
The crisis will pass. Better days will emerge. And we’ll find ourselves back in old patterns.
Those with the gumption for getting ahead will renew their quest. And those content with getting by will find themselves overlooked once again.
Our society has made it this way. It’s defined winners and losers and drawn the line between them.
But I’m not quite sure we’ve gotten it right.
For each group will see success in its own way. Those plowing ahead will get the most out of themselves. But those getting by will get the most out of life.
And here is no shame in any of that.
So, focus on getting ahead, if that strikes your fancy. Or focus on getting by, if you so desire.
Either way, you stand to see success.