I got passed by a guy who had to be in his seventies.
I was early on in my ultramarathoning journey. I'd trained for months. And at mile 18, this man shuffled past me like I was standing still. His form was efficient, his breathing steady. Mine was neither of those things.
My ego wanted to speed up. To prove something. To at least keep pace with a guy who probably had grandkids my age. Instead, I watched him disappear up the course while I kept plodding along at my own struggling pace.
Woof. That was a blow to my ego.
But that moment also taught me more about success than any finish line ever has.
Lessons Learned When I Stopped Letting Ego Lead
#1 – There's Always Someone Faster
We live in a world obsessed with rankings. Fastest time. Biggest revenue. Most followers. Best quarter. The comparison game is everywhere, and it's exhausting.
Running taught me something crucial: there's always someone faster. Always. No matter how hard you train, how perfectly you execute, or how much you sacrifice, someone out there is doing it better, faster, or with less effort.
You can let that eat you up on the inside, ruin your feelings of accomplishment, and kill your will to collaborate–or you can let it set you free.
#2 – Stop Measuring Against Someone Else's Metrics
I don't run with a watch. Haven't for years. People think that's strange, especially for someone who's completed ultramarathons and qualified for Boston. But I learned early that, for me, constantly checking my pace turned every run into a performance evaluation.
Those questions sucked the joy out of something I genuinely love. More importantly, they distracted me from the only metric that truly mattered: Am I running in a way that's sustainable for me, right now, given where I am?
Business works the same way. When you're constantly measuring yourself against someone else's metrics, you lose sight of whether you're building something that aligns with your actual goals, values, and capacity.
#3 – The Only Meaningful Comparison Is Against Yourself
Comparison is a moving target that guarantees dissatisfaction. Another adage calls comparison the “thief of joy.”
You compare yourself to someone ahead of you. Maybe you catch up. Then you notice someone else even further ahead. The goalpost shifts. The finish line moves. You're never fast enough because "enough" is defined by someone else's race.
The only meaningful comparison is against yourself. Not yesterday's self—that's just as dangerous. But against the person you're capable of becoming, given your actual circumstances, resources, and priorities.
When that seventy-year-old passed me at mile 18, I had a choice. I could let my ego dictate my pace and probably blow up before the finish. Or I could run my race, acknowledge that his journey and mine were completely different, and focus on crossing my finish line strong.
I finished that marathon slower than I'd hoped. But I finished without injury, with energy left for my kids that evening, and with my love for running intact.
#4 – Ask Better Questions
Now, when I catch myself in the comparison trap—whether it's on a run, in business, or watching other parents somehow manage everything perfectly—I ask myself three questions:
Am I healthy? Not just physically, but mentally, emotionally, relationally? Success that requires me to sacrifice my health, my marriage, my relationships, or my sanity isn't actually success.
Am I growing? The only person I need to be better than is the version of me from six months ago. If I'm learning, adapting, and improving based on my own baseline, that's winning.
Am I showing up? Consistency beats intensity every single time. The person who shows up at their own pace for years will outlast the person who sprints unsustainably trying to match someone else's speed.
#5 – Run Your Own Race
The most liberating realization I've had is that everyone else's pace is irrelevant to your race.
That doesn't mean you can't learn from faster runners or more successful entrepreneurs. It means you stop letting their performance define your worth.
Some people will pass you. Let them. Some races you'll finish slower than you hoped. That's fine too. The real failure isn't running slower than someone else. It's spending your entire race looking sideways instead of forward, so focused on someone else's journey that you miss your own.
What's one area where you catch yourself comparing your progress to someone else's? Business? Fitness? Parenting? Drop a comment—I'd love to hear what comparison trap hits hardest for you.