February 11, 2026
Nine seconds.
That is all most people see.
Nine seconds of speed. A finish line. A record. A celebration.
But nine seconds is not the whole story.
Usain Bolt once said, “I trained four years to run nine seconds, and people give up when they don’t see results in two months.”
Four years for nine seconds.
That line lands heavy because most of us live inside the two month window.
We start something new. We feel motivated. We show up consistently for a few weeks. Maybe even a couple of months. Then we start looking around for proof.
Is this working?
Shouldn’t I be further along?
Why don’t I feel different yet?
Two months feels like commitment. It feels long enough to deserve visible change. And when that change does not show up quickly, we start negotiating with ourselves.
Maybe this is not for me.
Maybe I am behind.
Maybe I should pivot.
But nine seconds does not exist without the years that came before it.
That is the part we skip over.
We celebrate the visible moment and ignore the invisible repetition that built it. The early mornings. The boring drills. The soreness. The plateaus. The doubt.
The truth is, most meaningful results are built in obscurity.
You train when nobody is watching. You practice when nobody is applauding. You repeat movements that do not look impressive. You refine details that no one else notices.
And for a long time, nothing dramatic happens.
That is not failure.
That is formation.
I think this is where we get tripped up. We assume progress should feel obvious. We expect change to announce itself.
But growth is often quiet.
It is learning how to stay steady when the excitement fades.
It is choosing the right action even when the payoff is not immediate.
It is trusting the process without romanticizing it.
There is a difference between quitting because something is wrong and quitting because something is slow.
Slow does not mean broken.
Slow might mean you are building something that lasts.
There is also wisdom in knowing when to wait and when to move. I wrestled with that tension in The Fine Line Between Patience and Action: Knowing When to Wait and When to Move. It is not about blindly grinding. It is about discerning whether the work you are doing is aligned.
If it is aligned, then time is not your enemy.
Time becomes your partner.
Two months is not the verdict.
Two months is the foundation.
Two months is proof that you can show up past the initial rush of motivation.
And that matters more than we give it credit for.
We are conditioned to expect quick feedback. Notifications. Likes. Metrics. Validation. But the most important changes rarely come with alerts.
They come quietly.
You respond with a little more patience than you used to.
You recover from a setback faster than you would have last year.
You stick with a routine even when it feels ordinary.
Those are not headline moments.
They are identity shifts.
Bolt did not just become someone who could run nine seconds.
He became someone who could train for four years.
That might be the real accomplishment.
Not the finish line.
The discipline.
If you are two months into something and wondering whether to quit, pause before you decide. Ask yourself a better question.
Is the work wrong?
Or is it just early?
Those are very different answers.
Most of life is the early part.
Most of life is repetition.
Most of life is choosing to keep going when the outcome is not guaranteed.
The highlight reel makes it look fast.
The real story is slow.
And slow is not something to be ashamed of.
Slow is where depth comes from.
Slow is where character forms.
Slow is where the roots grow strong enough to support the visible moment when it finally arrives.
If your life feels like training right now, that does not mean you are failing.
It might mean you are building toward something that cannot be rushed.
Nine seconds is impressive.
But the years behind it are what make it possible.
Keep going.
Not because applause is coming tomorrow.
But because the work is shaping you today.
And that is worth more than a finish line.
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