Inertia — Nº176
Chasing too much at once often leaves us empty-handed.
Jake had always been a runner, but not the type who found joy in the sport. No, Jake fixated on one goal after the next—always hunting the next big accomplishment to fill his vanity bar.
It started in school. Jake dreamed of making the varsity team, convinced it would make him popular. When he finally got drafted, the thrill lasted one week before he set eyes on becoming team captain.
College came along, and Jake ran harder. Scholarly awards, internships, leadership positions—he ticked them off like items on a grocery list, never pausing to savour a moment. He trodded the heads of each accomplishment as a mere stepping stone to the next with no intention of slowing down. Following graduation, Jake wasted no time. Entry-level position, promotion, management—the goalposts moved as fast as his heart beated.
In the wake of his relentlessness, relationships fell by the wayside. Friends drifted away on the ripples, unable to keep up with Jake’s pace. Romantic partners, too—unwilling to always stand behind Jake’s ambitions.
At forty, Jake stood at the peak of his career: an executive suite with a nostalgic view of the city. But the vista held no pleasure for him. It was always onto the next goal.
It was then that life decided it had seen enough.
The heart attack came suddenly, the pain as gripping and violent as a tornado ripping through him. It dropped Jake to his knees in the middle of a board meeting, leaving him gasping for breath and his colleagues stunned.
In the hospital, recovering slowly, Jake had time to reflect. Startling clarity made him realise that, in the past few decades, he couldn’t remember the last time he truly felt happy. He thought about all the moments he missed—though his memory was unsurprisingly cloudy—the connections unplugged, the people who were fed up, and the simple pleasures he overlooked due to the obsession with ‘something bigger’. But by this point, he had lost track of what he had been aiming for all along.
Visitors were few. His parents, long neglected, came with worry etched on their faces. A handful of colleagues stopped by, more out of obligation than genuine concern. The room seemed as empty as the life he’d built.
As Jake stared out the window, he watched people below scribing better, more fulfilled lives. All he could do was read. Jake understood the cruel irony. In moving the goalposts throughout his life, he only removed himself from the happiness other people were getting. Life, it seemed, didn’t forgive such superfluous ambition; it had forced him to stop and understand the cost.
Jake closed his eyes, shedding a single tear. For the first time in decades, he felt the weight of his choices. The goalposts had finally stopped moving, but Jake wondered if it was too late.
While Jake is fictional, there are countless lives just like his, including parts of mine. His story echoes the lives of many high-achieving people who fall into the pit of severe burnout and breakdown. When I started working in London for the first time, I saw it was filled with people like this, people who have been visibly aged by the years spent chasing increasingly ambitious goals while neglecting their health, relationships and well-being in the process.
Jake’s story is a reminder to me and you that constantly moving the goalposts is, to quote Bane, where victory brings defeat—a defeat that costs us life’s most precious aspects.
While the human drive for growth is valuable, you and I must balance it with acceptance and satisfaction. Step off the field occasionally. Appreciate not chasing an ever-receding destination. The gems of purpose, presence, and accomplishment that we’re looking for are not at the end of the road but scattered along the path instead.