I often find myself conflicted over how extensively I should chase performance, particularly in regards to athletics and creative writing.

There is a satisfying feeling when sacrificing time and effort to maximize one’s ability. For example, I’m glad that I ran the Boston Marathon.

Conversely, I sometimes reflect on the mornings I spent engaged in a two hour run and think that I’d have been happier lounging and watching a new film, or eating ice cream by the pool, or sipping coffee in a cafe and listening to music. Why engage in this compulsive and borderline self-abusive nonsense when there’s life to enjoy?

On the other hand, I enjoy the competitions and constantly look forward to the next one.

Performance results only carry relevance if they mean something personally to you. It meant something running the marathon, but I’m not sure it meant enough to justify the training as time well spent.

The act of chasing performance is still a chase, after all. And chasing can be exhausting. Chasers are more often than not oblivious to what’s going on around them, and worse yet, chasing can easily leave one trapped in an industry’s hamster wheel. Plenty of industries have capitalized on the human need to maximize performance and sell products to the chasers, often in the form of a subscription (for example, running shoes and energy gels). Leave the chase and you don’t need the subscription.

The counterargument to that would be that goals keep us invigorated. Having a goal gives us something unique to look forward to, and character growth from a unique journey.

Sometimes I think it would be better to slow down. Conversely, there’s a certain pride in knowing that I’m one of the few that can still compete, and that it keeps me young by trying to speed up.

This may always be an inner conflict. Moderation was never something that came naturally to me.