Early in my career, I spent a lot of time watching other people rise. You know the type: they seemed to possess an uncanny ability to be in the right place, at the right time, with the exact right sponsor. They collected promotions like trading cards, securing bigger titles and gaining seats at tables I was still trying to find the room for.
I would sit there, quietly doing the math of comparison. Why them? Why not me? I was working just as hard. I was delivering results. I was doing the reps. Yet, it felt like I was running at my absolute limit only to watch others sprint past me with frustrating ease.
What I didn’t understand at the time—and what took me decades to unlearn—was that I was viewing my career through the wrong lens. My aperture was too small. My focal point was tight, zoomed in exclusively on the next 100 meters. When you are focused only on that short distance, anyone built for speed looks unbeatable.
It took years to widen the frame, but when I finally did, I realized something vital about my own nature: I was never built for the 100-meter dash. I am a marathon runner. And the rules for the long game are fundamentally different. Grit was always my superpower.
The Compounding Nature of Skill
In the short term, speed looks like momentum. But over the span of a career, capability compounds in ways that speed cannot replicate. The ability to recognize patterns across different industries, the judgment that is only formed through the scar tissue of failure, and the instincts honed by decades of consistency—these things do not show up in a single promotion cycle.
If you optimize for speed, you often skip the foundational work required to sustain success. The "fast risers" often stall out because they haven't built the engine for distance. Real mastery shows up in endurance, not velocity.
Health is Infrastructure, Not a Luxury
You simply cannot run a marathon at a sprint pace; the biology doesn’t support it. There was a time in my life when I treated my body like a rental car—something to be driven hard, fueled poorly, and returned damaged. I traded sleep for productivity and accepted stress as a status symbol.
I view it differently now. If I plan to lead effectively into my 60s and beyond, health is not a "wellness" trend; it is critical infrastructure. Strength, cardio, recovery, and mental clarity are the logistical requirements of longevity. I train now, literally and figuratively, not to look good, but to last.
Relationships Over Optics
The same principle applies to how we treat people. A sprinter’s network is often transactional, optimized for who can help them right now. But a marathon network is built on patience.
When I look at the people who matter most in my career today, they are rarely the people I met yesterday. They are the ones I have stayed in touch with for twenty years. They are the people I helped without an agenda and showed up for consistently, long before there was any distinct advantage in doing so. Trust, like compound interest, requires time to accrue.
Looking back, I am actually grateful I wasn't the fastest sprinter. If I had won those early races, I might have become addicted to the applause of the short game. I might have missed building the engine required for the distance.
So, at 50, the question I ask myself is simple, and I offer it to you: Are you training for applause, or are you training for longevity?
The long game doesn’t always look impressive in the moment. It rarely gets the immediate ovation. But if you give it enough time, it always wins.