Winning Redefined

I’ve been chasing wins for as long as I can remember.

At St. Bernard School, it was winning Teacher of the Year and finishing grad school with the goal of becoming principal. At Holiday World, it was breaking the $10 million sales mark in F&B, hitting $10 per caps, and earning perfect health-department scores across 30-plus locations with the ultimate goal of getting promoted to Vice President. At US Foods, it was being promoted to District Sales Manager and then after an unexpected set back, becoming New Customer Champion the year I opened 36 accounts—a company record—and later, the President’s Cup with $16 million in annual sales.

Every stage of my career had a new scoreboard. Every promotion, every metric, every plaque on the wall meant I was doing it right—until the day it didn’t.

When I finally reached one of the roles I’d dreamed of, it lasted just nine months before being eliminated due to a pandemic. The title disappeared overnight, and with it went the illusion that another “win” would fix everything.

That was the moment I began to see the fine print beneath achievement: every win eventually asks, “Now what?”

The Fallout of Winning

For decades, my self-worth was tied to performance. I was the first one in, the last one out, the dependable one, the over-achiever who could out-work, out-organize, and out-deliver anyone.

But the victories came with a cost: exhaustion, resentment, and the slow erosion of joy. I was climbing ladders I didn’t even want to be on anymore. I kept telling myself,

“Just get through this next quarter.”

“Just make Presidents Cup again.”

“Just hit that commission goal.”

Meanwhile, the life I actually wanted—the quiet mornings, the dog walks, the slow coffee, time for gym workouts, the freedom to build something of my own—waited patiently in the background, wondering when it would finally be my turn.

The Shift

It didn’t happen all at once. There wasn’t a single journal entry or a breaking point. It was a slow and steady awakening — a realization that success without peace isn’t success at all.

For most of my life, I measured winning by titles, trophies, and numbers that could be tracked. Teacher of the Year. Ten-million-dollar sales. Perfect health inspection scores. 36 new accounts opened in one year. Presidents Cup. I chased each goal harder than the last, convinced that enough achievement would finally make me feel safe, seen, and satisfied.

But over time, the trophies got heavier. The applause faded faster. And I began to feel something I hadn’t felt before — not failure, but fatigue.

The shift came quietly. One day I realized that joy and freedom were no longer rewards for hard work. They were the point of the work.

That’s when winning began to change shape for me.

What Winning Looks Like Now

These days, winning isn’t about a title or a trophy. It’s about building a life that feels like me.

It’s about just being – whether walking the dogs at sunrise, listening to rain on the metal roof of the sunroom I’m having built, taking a nap between football games or sitting quietly with a cup of coffee while the world hurries past.

It’s about running JMart Travels, a business I built from scratch—a company rooted in joy, service, and connection. It’s about helping people experience the world, not just survive in it.

It's about seeing the world and experiencing different ways of life and different cultures whether solo or with friends or family or through the eyes of others leading a tour.

It's about making space for spirituality and connection to my highest self.

It's about giving back to my community in ways I never imagined possible.

It’s about leading with kindness, paying off debt, and creating space for others to breathe.

It's about taking time to watch the sunrises and sunsets and the wind go by.

It’s knowing that my value isn’t tied to a metric, and my peace isn’t any longer up for negotiation.

The Invitation

If you’ve ever chased a dream so hard that you forgot why you started—if you’ve ever looked around after a big “win” and wondered why you still feel empty—this is your invitation to pause.

Redefine what winning means.

Maybe winning now looks like rest. Maybe it looks like saying “no” without guilt. Maybe it looks like finally saying “yes” to your own peace.

Because the truest kind of success isn’t measured in numbers.It’s measured in how fully, freely, and faithfully you live the life that’s yours.

Here's to building lives and not ladders. Peace!