The Practice of Measuring Success
Victory is measured in the small accomplishments.
We are a results-oriented society. We are always looking for some tangible, measurable marker to prove to ourselves and others what we’ve accomplished in our life and that we are victorious in achieving our goals.
The scale shows we’ve lost ten pounds. Our bank account shows we’ve saved x amount of money. We can tell our co-workers that we obtained a certain result at work. We can shoot a lower round of golf, better aim on a target, more baskets or goals in a pick-up game, or a higher belt rank in a martial art. We focus on win-loss records of our favorite teams or athletes.
Whatever it may be, our society is set up in such a way that measurable, quantifiable improvement is the bedrock of how we measure success and, unfortunately, how we validate our personal worth. Both to ourselves and to others. It is safe to say we’ve all experienced how easy it is to get caught up in the desire to provide some evidence of tangible proof that we have, in some way, become better. Whether it is a means of validating our status to others, or to prove to ourselves that our time and effort invested in some project or goal is paying off.
A primary reason why such validation is so interwoven into our psyche is evolutionary. Ever since our ancestors were part of hunter-gatherer tribes, they needed to prove that they were a contributing and necessary member of the tribe. That they were an asset to their fellow tribe members rather than a hindrance. In those days, the need to demonstrate meaningful contribution to the tribe was a matter of survival. The margin between a tribe having enough shelter or food versus not was small. If a tribe member couldn’t demonstrate that they could contribute to the tribe’s survival rather than only consume the limited resources, then it likely meant being isolated out of the tribe, or worse, killed.
Another factor that causes us to focus on tangible victories is the mindset that life is measured in terms of wins and losses. If our team doesn’t win, it means they lost. If our favorite golfer, tennis player, or mixed martial artist doesn’t win their event, it means they lost. And in those contexts, when you lose, you drop in the rankings. And when you drop in the rankings, you fall out of championship contention and become less relevant in the sport’s overall landscape.
The singular concept both theories have in common: victory equals relevance. Relevance to the tribe. Relevance to the sport. And being relevant is equivalent to being important. So tangible victory is evidence of a person’s level of importance. And in today’s world, being able to demonstrate a high level of importance can lead to more influence in one’s personal and professional lives. And that is why people want to show to themselves and others that they are able to achieve success and victory.
However, perhaps being concerned with only visible and measurable wins and losses is not the most physically, emotionally or mentally healthy way to go about living one’s life. In fact, if we are to look at life as a practice, our experiences are not about winning and losing. They are about learning and development. They are about improving through small, incremental changes that occur through patience, perseverance and work.
The other day some BJJ (Brazilian Jiu Jitsu) training partners and I were talking after class and we were discussing the concept of how to measure success on the mats. When a person chooses to train in a martial art or combat sport that is as physically and mentally challenging as jiu jitsu, it is easy to develop a mindset of wanting to see tangible evidence of improvement. It is easy to get caught up in the notion of wanting to demonstrate to yourself and others that you are getting better. Either by submitting more people during training and competition, or by advancing in belt rank. Trust me, I totally get that mindset.
And while we should never minimize the value behind receiving external validation for demonstrating improvement (it’s in our evolutionary DNA after all), it is important to remember that we should not solely measure our success and value by only the larger or tangible benchmarks. In BJJ, it shouldn’t be about how many people we can “tap” or how many times we get “tapped.” It’s not just about belt rank. Sure, those are both an integral part of jiu jitsu and they are components to measuring success. But there are other, perhaps less noticeable, benchmarks: ones more personal to each individual that, while not as obvious, are just as significant. For example, perhaps while rolling you notice your cardio is better and you roll longer before getting fatigued. Perhaps instead of getting submitted by someone within 1 minute, you’re able to defend yourself against that same person for an additional 30 seconds. Maybe you’re able to maintain control over your partner 20 seconds longer than you were able to last week or month. Maybe you perform a specific move or technique with a little more precision or fluidity.
These smaller victories may only be noticeable to you, but they matter just as much as the larger, more visible ones. Importantly, it’s these smaller victories that make up a larger practice. They are the building blocks that enable the larger, more visible victories to occur. A person is not going to get more submissions or more competitive unless the smaller, individualized, aspects of their technique improve and mesh together.
We should apply this same principle to our personal lives. We don’t always need the big or flashy victory or accomplishment to validate our self-worth or obtain approval from others.
First, we need to realize that our life practice is our own, and cannot be judged by others. Sure, others will try to pass judgment on us by applying their own subjective standards on how we live. Usually this sort of judgment is a means of feeling better about themselves. But part of our practice should be to resist being swayed or influenced so much by what others think.
Second, we need to remind ourselves that small achievements are what lead to the larger victories and accomplishments. All victories are made up of smaller ones. The saying “How do you eat and elephant? One bite at a time,” applies here, as does the concept that a larger war is won through an accumulation of smaller battle victories.
Don’t focus on losing 10 pounds. Start by not having dessert. At first, you won’t notice a change in how your clothes fit and people won’t comment that it looks like you lost weight. But the change in diet: that’s a victory.
Want to run a 5k but haven’t really exercised recently? Start by walking a mile. There won’t be cheering spectators or a ribbon at the end. But the uptick in physical activity: that’s a victory.
Small, incremental gains, while perhaps not as flashy or attention grabbing, make up the practice that leads you from your current level to the next level and beyond. It leads you to victory over your old self and the creation of a new you. It is the practice of “masakatsu agatsu” (see my essay dated Sept. 1, 2024).
Because of geography and location, the highest peaks of the White Mountains in New Hampshire can have some of the most formidable winter weather conditions in the world. For years, I wanted to do a winter climb there. But, for various reasons, I had never even done any long winter hiking before, let alone winter mountaineering in such adverse conditions. First, I had limiting internal narratives that had me convinced I could not physically handle the challenge. Second, after reading so many stories and articles about people who had died while doing these same climbs, I was afraid. Lastly, I didn’t know if I could handle the cold: temperatures and windchills well below zero. So for years, I only sat in my chair and read about other people’s adventures instead of doing it myself.
Then, my mindset changed. My 52 year old self decided to take action steps my 30-40 year old self never took. First, I lost weight and improved my overall physical fitness. Next, I started taking winter hikes on trails near my house. While nowhere near as demanding, I started with 5-6 mile hikes that allowed me to get acclimated to hiking in the cold weather and accustomed to the gear. Next, I gained skill and knowledge. A group of guys with whom I train BJJ and who also mountain climb welcomed me into their fold and taught me some skills and mountaineering tactics. We did some longer summer hikes, including up Mount Washington, the tallest of the White Mountains, and a late fall hike across the renowned Franconia Ridge that, while not super cold, involved some snow, ice and the need for some winter gear.
Each of these steps, while small in scale, were victories for me. They were things I had never accomplished before. They were neither attention grabbing nor flashy. Usually the hard work one puts into their personal practice rarely is. No one sees the professional golfer hit 500 balls at the driving range or the MMA star putting in endless rounds at the gym. They just see the finished and polished product. But, like them, over time, I was able to build up my skills to something bigger, and then bigger. All of the smaller, victorious personal “battles” led to a larger success.
For me, that larger success was a January summit of Mount Washington, nicknamed “ the home of the world’s worst weather.” My climbing partner and I faced winds that were consistently blowing in our faces at 70 mph and windchills double digits below zero. On our way up, before we got above treeline, we passed several groups of people, all who had turned around before the summit because of the conditions, and all who warned us to turn around. But we moved on. We trusted each other, our skills, our gear and, most importantly, our judgment. We believed that we had the training and experience necessary to finish the climb or, at least, know when it was too risky that we needed to turn around. Ultimately, we were two of the few who climbed to the summit that day and safely made it back down with a great experience and accomplishment notched in our belts.
Think about that: all of that…done by me. Someone who, even 1 short year before, had only daydreamed of such an adventure. And how did it happen? Small steps, small victories, all part of a larger practice.
What does that tell you? It tells you that limitations exist in our head. It tells you that smaller victories matter. Overcoming fear, overcoming negative self-talk, improving one’s physical strength and conditioning. It’s all doable. They are all important smaller victories that can, and will, lead to larger successes.
All you need to do is take the first step and secure that small victory. And give yourself credit for taking that first step. And if it doesn’t work out…step again. Just keep stepping. It doesn’t always have to be forward. Just keep trying. Just keep securing small victories. That action is, in and of itself, victory. It is a win that the most important person, the one who truly matters, gets to see you accomplish: yourself.
Be well.
From the summit of Mount Washington.