The Journey and the Destination
by Steve McGill

I was recently watching an interview with NBA guard Damian Lillard of the Portland Trailblazers. Lillard has played his whole career, which is now 11 years long, with the same team. And in that time the blazers haven’t gone to the finals, and they’ve made it to the conference finals only one time. This year, the blazers fell short of making the playoffs, and looked pretty sorry as the regular season wound down. In the interview, Lillard, who has become famous for his loyalty to the blazers and to the city of Portland, was asked about his decision to stay in Portland so long instead of looking to force a trade to a team contending for a championship. Lillard commented that winning a championship isn’t everything, and that at some point we have to appreciate the journey, because only one team can win the championship each year. Does that mean that all of the other teams are failures, and that all of the players on those teams are failures?

Meanwhile, on a similar note, I recently had my AP Language & Composition class read an article about “un-grading,” which is a term for alternative forms of assessment that some colleges are using for first-year students in place of the traditional A-F grading system. The primary reason for un-grading, according to the article, is that students have become so focused on grades that they no longer focus on learning. To connect it to what Dillard said, students have become so focused on the destination that they no longer value the journey. Critics of un-grading, according to the article, compare alternative forms of assessment (such as pass/fail grades, narratives in place of grades) to participation trophies for children in youth sports. 

For the essay assignment I gave my students, I asked them to write about whether they agreed with the participation trophy argument as it applies to college freshmen. The overwhelming majority of the students agreed that alternative forms of assessment basically serve the same purpose as participation trophies — they give students a false sense of accomplishments, they demotivate students to put forth their best effort, and they don’t prepare students for the rigors of upper-level classes and of professional life beyond college.

I was mildly surprised that so many of my students agreed with the critics of un-grading, as many of my students are constantly in a state of stress as they compete to earn the highest grades that will give them a chance to earn admission into the best colleges. I had thought that a stress-free freshman year might sound appealing, and even logical, to them. 

As I thought about the topic myself, and asked myself what I would’ve written in response to my own prompt, I found myself thinking, why can’t both matter — the journey and the destination? Why do we assume that one has to matter more than the other? In school, learning for the love of learning has to be valued, or else the relationship between student and teacher becomes strictly a business relationship. Intrinsic motivation is a beautiful thing, as it leads students to follow their natural curiosity, and learning feels like play instead of work. Extrinsic motivation can definitely lead to positive results, to “success,” but when all the motivation is extrinsic, then reaching the destination becomes the only validation for all the hard work. 

So I agree with Lillard that the journey has to matter. But I also feel that the quest to reach the destination by always “keeping the eyes on the prize” can lead to personal growth and a more fulfilling, enriching experience overall than if no such struggle existed.

So now let’s bring this conversation to the track, where hundreds or even thousandths of seconds can determine whether a dream comes true or if a dream is crushed. Our sport is inherently cruel. Like Devon Allen, you can be one of the best in the world, competing at a World Championships, and get disqualified because you false-started by .001. I remember in my sophomore year of college, in the 110 semi-finals, the top four in each heat would make the final. I finished fourth in my heat and made the final, while the dude who finished fifth in the other heat didn’t make the final even though he ran .02 faster than me. This kind of thing happens at every meet at every level.

For that reason alone, our focus can’t be solely on the destination. Last summer I watched on TV as my former athlete Keni Harrison ran the fastest time she’s ever run since she ran 12.20 in 2016. But in that same race Tobi Amusan broke Keni’s world record. So, no matter who you are, and no matter how hard you train, and no matter how many sacrifices you make in your life off the track, there is still a very real chance that you’ll fall short of your goals.

My approach as a coach is to instruct my athletes to keep the focus on themselves. On my Instagram page I wrote, “Hurdlers are artists, but hurdlers are also warriors. The more you master the art form, the more prepared you are to battle.” This quote encapsulates my philosophy that both the journey and the destination matter equally. But, the journey has to come first in the order of things, because the journey leads to the destination; the mastery of the art form leads to the fast races and to the confidence needed to perform at a high level in the most pressure-filled competitions. I’ve always told people, no matter how much I value the art form, winning matters to me. I hate losing. But I don’t want to take any shortcuts to winning. We have to master the art form first for two reasons. First, because that’s where the fun lies. That’s where the joy lies. That’s where the journey lies. Discovering new ways to run over hurdles faster every time you step on the track is thrilling and stimulating. Second, because mastering the art form is the journey that leads to the concrete results. When you chase winning it’s easy to ignore the art form and stunt your own growth, thereby compromising your ability to achieve the results you’re seeking to achieve.

As a coach, if my athletes aren’t improving as the season goes on, if their times aren’t dropping, then I’m doing something wrong. . We’re here to get better. Every workout and every race. I’m not a fan of participation trophies by any stretch of the imagination. I’m actually not a fan of trophies at all. Or medals, or any “prize.” The prize lies in winning. The prize lies in running a personal best. The prize lies in qualifying for states, regionals, nationals, etc. The prize also lies in knowing you took advantage of every opportunity to reach your potential.