Recently I was in British Columbia, hiking up a mountain, carrying a huge jug of water and backpack full of bricks, with a partner who was doing the same. It was a test of strength and will, one in which I am proud to say I dug deep and surpassed my own expectations. It wasn't easy, but I wouldn't accept failure as an option. As I saw the finish line about 200 meters ahead, it would have been easy for me to put it on coast and cruise through, people cheering me on for having accomplished my goal. My partner was sure to be happy with that plan. What I did instead, with my legs burning, my back killing me and my feet full of blisters, was begin to run. "What the heck are you doing?" asked my partner. "Lets go man, we only have a little way left, lets sprint through the finish" I looked as my partner started to pick up the pace...the pain was excruciating, but suddenly it didn't matter, as the only thing I cared about was getting to the finish line as quickly as possible. Surprisingly I started to pick up speed, and it seemed the closer I got to the finish line the faster I ran, with my partner right by my side (OK maybe I was a little ahead of him)...The last 10 steps are etched into my memory. The faster I ran, the louder the cheers got...our efforts had worked the crowd into a frenzy. They were screaming "Go...Go...Go...Go..." and as we lunged through the finish line with every ounce of energy remaining in our bodies, the crowd went ballistic. It was one of the proudest moments in my life, and one that I was only able to experience because I chose to, instead of jogging the last 200 meters and coasting to the finish line, to sprint and run through it as fast as I could. And as I crossed, with absolutely nothing left in the tank, my legs feeling like rubber, the backpack feeling like it weighed 500 lbs, a wonderful thing happened. My fellow competitors ran over to me and helped me to stand. They removed the backpack. They didn't allow me sit down, instead encouraging me to stand tall and put my hands up above my head to help the oxygen into my lungs. They essentially caught me as I fell.
I have since thought back to that moment many times, and asked myself just how many times in my life had I slowed down when I saw the finish line. How many times had I coasted through, admiring my accomplishments, chit chatting with coworkers as deadlines passed. Truth is the answer is too many. Too often had I in life accomplished something great, only to then coast for a bit admiring myself and what I had done. Too often had I closed a big account, only to high five my coworkers and head home early for the day or to the bar to have a drink for a job well done, instead of picking up the phone and closing another big account, or planting more seeds to be harvested the next day.
Maybe its human nature to sit back on our laurels and pat ourselves on the back, but since that day, I have instead chosen to run THROUGH the finish line instead of TO it, and this has made huge differences in my life. Friday afternoons are no longer my day to kick back and relax after a hard days work, they are used as an opportunity to further my business by getting a jump start on Monday.
The Olympics are fast approaching, and I am looking forward to watching athletes who have trained for years compete in their respective arenas where 1/100 of a second is the difference between being a champion or a runner up. The difference between the cover of Sports Illustrated or a small picture on page 26. You can bet at this level, none of these elite athletes will see the finish line and shift down and coast...instead, they will kick it into the highest gear they have, dig deep for that last amount of fuel in the tank, lean forward and use every last bit of willpower to burst THROUGH the finish line. Isn't this the level you want to play at in your life?
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