February 13, 2026
Winning finishing or your best.
It sounds like a simple ranking exercise. Pick one. Defend it. Move on.
But the older I get, the less simple that question becomes.
If I am honest, winning still matters to me. I like the feeling of crossing the line first. I like knowing I measured up. I like knowing the scoreboard agrees with the work.
There is nothing noble about pretending you do not care about winning when you do. It is human to want to succeed. It is human to want the gold star. It is human to want your effort to show up in the final result.
But here is what fifty years has slowly taught me.
If you do not give it your best, you rarely have a chance at winning anyway.
Winning without your best effort is usually an illusion. Either the competition was weak, or the stakes were low, or the moment did not demand much from you. And in those cases, the victory feels thin. It does not stick.

Finishing, though, that is different.
Finishing is about endurance. It is about stubbornness. It is about not quitting when things get uncomfortable. There is something deeply respectable about finishing what you start. Too many things in life go half built. Half written. Half repaired. Half healed.
Finishing means you stayed.
But finishing without your best effort can also become a quiet habit of mediocrity. You cross the line, yes. But you know. You know you held something back. You know you paced yourself not because it was wise, but because you were protecting your ego.
Which leaves your best.
Giving your best is the one option that does not depend on anyone else. It does not depend on the judges. It does not depend on the market. It does not depend on how strong the field is.
It depends on you.
Your preparation.
Your focus.
Your honesty.
And giving your best is uncomfortable because it removes the escape hatch.
If you lose after giving your best, there is no excuse to hide behind. You cannot say, I could have tried harder. You cannot say, I was not really going for it. You cannot say, it did not matter that much.
You have to sit with the truth that your best, on that day, was not enough to win.
That takes maturity.
When I was younger, I wanted the win. Full stop. The process was secondary. The effort was secondary. The result was everything.
Now I see it differently.
Winning is the reward.
Finishing is the baseline.
Giving your best is the standard.
If you give your best consistently, finishing becomes more likely. If you give your best consistently, winning becomes possible. Not guaranteed. But possible.
Without your best, neither one has much foundation.
I have seen this play out in work. In relationships. In parenting. In personal health. There are days where you can coast and still cross the line. There are seasons where you can do the bare minimum and still appear successful.
But that success has cracks in it.
Deep down, you know whether you showed up fully.
And that knowledge shapes how you carry yourself.
So what matters more?
On paper, you might say winning.
On a bad day, you might say finishing.
On a reflective day, you might say your best.
Maybe the real answer changes depending on the season you are in.
If you are exhausted and barely holding things together, finishing might be heroic.
If you are in a competitive arena with something meaningful on the line, winning might matter deeply.
But if you are building a life, a reputation, a character that has to last decades, your best is the only one that compounds.
Winning comes and goes.
Finishing gets you through.
Giving your best builds you.
And if you build yourself well enough, winning becomes a byproduct instead of a desperate need.
So I will ask you plainly.
When the effort is real and the outcome is uncertain, what matters more to you?
And when you answer, be honest.
Not about what sounds right.
About what you actually live.
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