With so many self-help articles and videos available, it’s easy to get motivated. I don’t intend to write a motivational article here. In fact, the truth is, I don’t really enjoy self-help or motivational books myself.
I am a person who looks forward to fiction. Not in a dreamy way, but as a refuge. Life today often feels statistical, transactional and relentlessly competitive. Fiction provides a world that is narrated by the author but created and visualized in our minds.
This blog isn’t about my distaste for motivational books. Instead, it’s about a single incident from my school days that made an impact, a mantra I still live by.
It was a summer afternoon near the end of the first semester, just before schools closed for the summer vacation. That’s when all the sporting activities and competitions took place. I was an athletic teenager who would take part in any sport because of my high energy levels. I’d join anything: cricket, races, basketball, tennis, snooker – you name it.
I was the reigning champion of the 1,500m race and, participating in other events as well, one of the leads of my school house (group). It was the final year of school, and I was in for another win. As the race started, I began slow to conserve energy. The common trick is to start slow; those who sprint out too fast often exhaust their energy and fail to finish the race. All they get is the initial hurrah from the crowd. After 400m, there’s a change in pace, where a runner tries to move into the top five. Another 400 meters later, one needs to be in the top three. The rest of the 700 meters are a gradual speed up, with the final 400m being an absolute sprint. Those 400 meters are the hardest because you can’t be as quick as you were when you started, but one must run as fast as possible with that leftover energy to compete and win.
I was running comfortably in second place throughout the last leg of 400m, but was already panting for breath. In the final 200 meters, I tried to pace up, but the guy in front was too far ahead to catch, so I maintained my pace, aiming to secure second place. Then, in the final 100 meters, the runner behind me rapidly closed the gap. By now, my energy was critically low, and I couldn’t match his surge. I tried to push myself, but his gradual pace was too good for me to counter. So, I gave up and kept running at the pace I was at, ultimately winning the third spot – in other words losing to the top two.
After the formalities and the sting of humiliation, I went to the guy who came second to congratulate him for his splendid performance. He was a dear friend, so I asked him directly how he found so much energy for that final push when everyone’s levels are lowest. His answer still echoes in my ears: “If I saw you speed up, I would have given up.”
That simple statement made me realize everything comes down to intent. Everything in life is about intent. Our successes and failures, our laurels and brickbats, are all driven by this intent. If we clearly show our intent to win, we’ve already done half the work. The rest is left to skills, experience, and expertise. But the competitor needs to know you won’t give up. Because if you do, they will surely win, irrespective of your experience, expertise, or skill.
That day, if I had sped up, even for a second, my closest competitor might have cracked. Because he sped up and I didn’t, he gained confidence and knew he could beat me. Races are as much about psyche as they are about adrenaline. If I had the mindset to win, I would have won.
Another incident, this time playing soccer with colleagues, demonstrated the same principle. When the match started, I was too energetic and aggressive (like the guys who sprint early in a long race). I was in full attack mode, dribbling across the field at every opportunity. My boss was immediately intimidated as I maneuvered past him with speed and agility. Within ten minutes, I was panting for breath, begging to play goalkeeper just to get some rest. The rest of the game was a disaster, as I essentially made myself redundant.
After the game, my boss told me that I was so aggressive that whenever he faced me, he had given up in his mind because I seemed resolute and undefeatable. My initial intent was clear: to win. When that intent vanished later in the game, I became vulnerable, and eventually vincible. Ultimately, it’s the attitude and intent that matter.
