The Lie
I’m currently in this kind of no-man's-land with my writing. Book one is off to proof-read at the moment, and I’m just busy enough with behind-the-scenes work that I’m not quite ready to dive headfirst into the next one. But I’m looking forward to it, and keen to get going. So during that Crimbo Limbo period between Christmas and New Year, I decided to take some time and learn some more about my craft. I was working my way through a series of lectures by Brandon Sanderson (the King of Modern Fantasy, for those who don’t know) on YouTube when I came across this video. And, dear God, did it resonate.
Because I grew up believing the lie. It was something I’d been taught by almost all those around me - family, friends, teachers, other athletes, celebrities, society as a whole… it was a narrative promoted by those seeking to inspire and motivate but, while well-meaning, was fundamentally flawed.
The lie is this: if I was prepared to commit and put in the hard work, I could achieve anything I put my mind to.
But it’s not true.
Let’s take the Olympic Games as an example. Every single person on that start line has worked bloody hard to get there, and every single one wants to win. The idea that working harder and wanting it more than the next person equating to the outcome is - to be blunt - laughable.
Think about it - the margins at the top in Olympic sport are tiny. Millimetres. Milliseconds. Milligrams. However it’s measured, the difference between a gold medal and no medal at all is miniscule. Even if chance only accounts for 1% of performance (and I’ll tell you right now, it accounts for a lot more than that) with margins that small it has a significant impact on outcome.
That’s not to diminish the achievements of those who have succeeded. Winning an Olympic medal of any colour is an incredible thing and doesn’t come without an enormous amount of hard work and sacrifice. I have an enormous amount of admiration for anyone who succeeds at that level, and I am in awe of those who do it time and time again.
But, as harsh as it seems to say, it’s also not true to say that anyone can achieve that. I use sport as an example, because it’s my area of expertise, but the fact is that our individual circumstances - most of which we have little to no control over - impact on our opportunities and potential no matter what our dreams. Whether is genetic, socio-economic or just luck, there are things outwith our control which can limit what we can and cannot achieve. If you want to explore the impact of luck on our successes, I recommend this video for a more detailed analysis.
I long for a day where socio-economic circumstance is not a factor, where we all have the same opportunities and success is not limited to the privileged. I am acutely aware of how much of a leg-up my private education has given me in life, and it horrifies me to think that the mind that could cure cancer or end world hunger might never get the chance because they are born into a less affluent household. But even in that perfect world, genetics and chance will still influence things and I worry that pretending it doesn’t can be harmful.
We idolise the successful. And the story is always the same, even in the underdog stories. They worked hard. They wanted it more than anything. They gave everything to achieve their goals. And, in the end, they were justly rewarded. Those who didn’t succeed hadn’t worked hard enough. Maybe they’d crumbled under pressure. They were defective. Lesser. To be ignored and brushed aside, because who wants to hear from a loser? Winning is all that matters…
By the time I retired, I’d realised it was all bollocks.
Because here’s the thing. I might have never won an Olympic gold medal, but I’ve won enough stuff to know it’s not half as life-fulfilling as folk make out. Two Commonwealth golds changed my life, but they didn’t complete it.
I was at an international training camp the year after the Rio Olympics. There were a bunch of athletes there from a bunch of different countries, including a couple of Olympic medallists. I was struck by the difference between them. One was kind, gracious, and humble. The other was, to be quite honest, arrogant and entitled. And as I watched them I realised nothing I’d ever won had made me a better person. It was my failures that had helped me grow. They grounded me. Gave me perspective.
I realised then that, for me, an Olympic medal would never be life-fulfilling. And, speaking to those who have won them, I’m yet to meet anyone who thinks they are. Life-changing, yes. But success is too fleeting to be life-fulfilling. My life was enriched by the journey, by the pursuit of excellence rather than the achievement of it (even if it’s taken years of distance to be able to see it). The Olympic movement was founded on that principle, but the message has got twisted somewhere along the way. Rather than celebrating the struggle, we focus only on the triumph.
And there is the crux of it. Over 11,000 athletes competed at the Olympics in Rio. There were less than 1,000 medals given out. Do you think those who went home empty handed hadn’t worked hard? Do you think they didn’t want it as much as those who won?
(For the avoidance of doubt, I’m not talking about myself. No sour grapes here. I am under no illusions. I wasn’t good enough to win an Olympic medal. My technical skills weren’t up to scratch and, honestly, I just didn’t have the bottle. But I can think of a dozen women in my event alone who were.)
The thing is that while it isn’t possible to succeed without hard work; it is possible to work hard and not succeed. But it’s also possible to fail and still grow. Working hard, doing what we love, even if we don’t achieve our goals, is still valuable. It will still make you a better person. I am unlikely to be as successful as Brandon Sanderson in my writing journey, but it was still worth doing - even if only for my own enjoyment, never mind personal growth. But maybe someone else will take value from it, maybe it will help them, and that would be incredible too.
Saying we can achieve anything we put our minds to, that all it requires to be successful is hard work, is not only untrue but devalues effort that does not end with success.
I left sport bitter and resentful, all because of this lie, and it’s taken years of soul-searching to finally find peace. To find that truth. In that time I’ve often struggled to articulate what I’ve realised - that’s why I started a blog, so I had more space to explore these thoughts and ideas. In that video, Sanderson summed up what I have been struggling with and offered the perfect rewording.
“Let’s revise that phrase ‘you can do anything.’ Let’s revise that phrase and say instead ‘I can do hard things. Doing hard things has intrinsic value and will make me a better person, even if I end up failing.’”
Do you agree? If you had the chance, would you change the narrative? Let me know in the comments below.