Why do we compete?
Is it hard-wired into our DNA, stamped on us at the factory between “blink reflex” and “trip over air”? Or is competition something we learn—like parallel parking or pretending we’re fine when technology updates itself? And when we compete, are we really trying to beat others… or trying to figure out who we are?
Here’s my take: we compete to discover what’s possible. Competition exists so we can test limits, break records, and occasionally shock ourselves. With preparation, practice, and dedication, new standards of excellence are set. Someone wins. Someone doesn’t. And both outcomes matter.
This summer, I found myself on Great Salt Pond, Narragansett, RI—not competing, mind you, but in my natural role as a highly qualified professional spectator. It was a perfect racing day: warm sun, clear skies, a steady breeze, and just enough tension in the air to make it interesting. Young men and women were locked in a fast-moving chess match on the water, chasing advantages measured in inches and seconds. Strategy mattered. Execution mattered. Focus mattered.
And here’s the part that rarely gets the applause it deserves – not everyone won.
Good.
Because losing is just as important as winning—maybe more so. Losing teaches resilience. It teaches humility. It teaches how to take a punch, regroup, and come back smarter. It forces competitors—especially young ones—to develop coping skills that no classroom can teach, and no ribbon can replace.
Which brings me to participation trophies.
They make me want to throw up.
Life does not hand out awards for showing up. Showing up is the minimum requirement. Very seldom is it rewarded. Effort matters, yes—but outcomes matter too. Competition without the possibility of losing isn’t competition; it’s rehearsal. And rehearsal doesn’t build character—experience does.
Out on that pond, every sailor learned something. Winners learned what worked. Losers learned what didn’t—and how to handle it. Everyone walked away sharper than they arrived. Faster. Smarter. Tougher.
So why do we compete?
Not to collect trophies—but to collect lessons. Not to avoid failure—but to survive it. Because excellence isn’t built by comfort. It’s forged through challenge, resilience, and the courage to try again after the wind doesn’t go your way.
And sometimes, if the breeze is right, it’s also one hell of a thing to watch.
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