On Competitiveness

I am a gamer or, as the Germans would say, "Ich bin ein Spieler" which, fortunately, does not sound like  "I am a jelly doughnut" in any way.  I digress.  Let me start anew.

I am a gamer.  I was born in the United States of America, one of the most competitive cultures on the planet, and I grew up playing all sorts of games.  From Monopoly to Trivial Pursuit to Scrabble to Pictionary (yes, even Pictionary), I was reared playing them all.  When I was old enough (age three), I received a Super Nintendo Entertainment system and spent a good chunk of my time, the time not spent playing board games, playing games like Super Mario World, Star Fox, and F-Zero.  When I was not gaming, I preoccupied myself with building things from Lego or Brio, always attempting to construct bigger and better works.  As I had learned quite well by then, it was always important to try to improve on your skill and creations; that was the key to winning.

When I grew even older (age five), my parents began enrolling me in different sports, starting with T-ball and football (or, as we say in the States, soccer).  I never have been, and never will be, very good at any sport involving a bat and a ball, so it should come as no surprise that within a few years I had stopped playing T-ball and was only playing football.  I was not very good at that sport either, as I lacked the technical skill and coordination to handle the ball very well, but I was more impassioned about running up and down the field and playing a good game than I was about standing around waiting to catch a ball that conked me on the head quite a few times...but I am digressing again.

After even more years (age fourteen...or was it thirteen?  Too many baseballs to the head have loosened my memory) I was in high school after skipping the seventh grade and finishing second in my class in middle school (a "short-coming" some have never allowed me to forget).  After repeatedly failing to make any impression on the school's football team and being kicked off of every competitive league team I was on, I was left with the only two options for my competitive urges:  wrestling or track and field.  Since I have never been a fan of spandex, and because I had much more experience running than wrestling, I opted for track and field and, by the end of my time in high school, I was the ninth-fastest mid-distance runner in the state.  For the record, that is not impressive:  North Carolina does not breed mid-distance runners, and the number one runner only managed a 1:53 800 meter run.  I ran 1:59.

Never the less, I continued with this competitive streak through my first two years at Duke University, running mid-distance for the varsity team and continuing to push myself to the limit, and even almost four years after leaving the team, I have continued to push myself to the limit.  My 5k is now consistently between fifteen and sixteen minutes, with my unofficial record time being 14:47.  My 800 meter time is now averaging 1:52 when taking it easy; my unofficial record is 1:49.  I am twenty-two years old.

As you may have guessed, it was not that the venue of my gaming was shifted so much as expanded:  I still played my games throughout all of this (both digital and analogue), and the competitiveness seeped into my academic life quite nicely.  I became a warrior seeking champion status, cutting down any obstacle in my path and raging against any impediment until I could overcome it.  This was how I lived my life physically, academically, and recreationally.

Rewind a few years back, though:  Note that I only ran for Duke two years.  An undergraduate degree takes four years to complete on average, granting an athlete four years of eligibility.  What happened those last two years?  Answer:  I had a revelation.  Part sad, part sweet, but it was a revelation that helped me and has continued to help me to this day.

My mother passed away in my junior year of college.  Before that, she was suffering a great deal and it was hard for me to keep my thoughts straight on anything.  My class work suffered, my body suffered, and my relationships suffered.  One day I realized why I was suffering so much:  It was not because of my mother's illness; that was something that broke my heart, but sadness and loss are things we all deal with.  What was causing my suffering were my futile attempts to hold together this particular lifestyle, this particular image, that I had been practicing since, well, the beginning.  Every day, however, had become a struggle for me to be the best.  Not just the best I could be, but the best.  That meant doing things a certain way and never letting myself relax or letting my guard down...and I detested it all.  Yes, I loved to come out on top and win, but at what cost?  The cost of my body?  The cost of my family?

I quit the Duke track team shortly after my mother was diagnosed with cancer.  I just could not hold it all together and, frankly, I had no interest to do so.  Living became my new passion, living for myself, my family, and my people, all people.  Life is too short and precious to be spent wasting it on achievements that may or may not mean anything in the end, whenever that may be.  Mind you, I have obviously retained my competitive edge and instincts.  I still run every morning and push myself to the limit every day; I am trying to perfect my thesis; I still play games and hunt for achievements in them.  The important thing, however, is that I am turning away from doing these things for the sake of competition and beating others.  No, now I do these things with the spirit of humanity and passion for what I do.  Why do I train so hard?  I train so hard because I want my body to reach its full potential, be able to use it to its fullest extent, and be in a condition that I can help others if need be.  Why do I work so hard on my profession?  I work so hard because I love what I do and genuinely believe I can help my people by doing my work, by doing my part.  Why do I game?  I answer:  because I have fun, and when it is no longer fun, I let it go.  After all, it is just a game.

Why do I write all of these things?  Every day, I hear about people starving, living in poverty, and being beaten down within their own communities.  I think it a tragedy that people cannot even find compassion in their own homes, and I know that a good deal of this stems from competition.  Sibling rivalry pits brother against brother, social cliques are exclusive and petty, political parties pit neighbor against neighbor, and economic competition ruins entire nations.  It is fine to compete, but it must be done in a respectful, understanding manner.  One of the reasons I quit my pre-medical school studies was that I was sick of the way many of the students viewed their course track as just being about beating others ("exclusive study groups" for the sake of beating the curve come to mind).  If it is this bad among students who have no real influence, how bad do you think it is among those who wield influence but have never reached maturity?

What I suggest instead is as follows:  Put yourself wholly into your undertakings, but never forget the community in which you dwell.  If you can profit from your ventures, feel free to do so, but always be aware of the impact your actions have on others.  Is it worth the life of one man to make a fortune?  What about ten?  What about one thousand?  Many would say that life is priceless, that you cannot put a price tag on it.  If this is so, then why do so many continue to impoverish and inflict great harms on those beneath them?  This seems counter-intuitive to me, but what do I know?  I am just a man who has almost been destroyed by competition.