Just remember to run through the Finish Line
I’ve had a lot of excellent coaches over the years, people who offered wisdom I didn’t fully appreciate at the time. Only later did I realize how many of those lessons were really about life, not just sports. One in particular resurfaced for me recently, and it came from a brutally hot August practice after a friendly match my team had taken far too lightly.
We’d squeaked out a win, but our coach knew we hadn’t given anything close to our best. So he “kindly requested” that we line up for full‑field sprints to burn off the energy we apparently thought we could save for our evening plans. By the end, we were exhausted, but I made a mistake that stuck with me: I eased up before the end line. Not the visible finish line, because there wasn’t one, but the real one. The one the coach expected us to honor.
He noticed. He always noticed.
A few teammates and I were pulled aside and told to rerun the drill, faster this time or we wouldn’t be leaving anytime soon. The rest of the team had to stand there and watch until we got it right. We finished it, eventually, and then endured a twenty‑minute lecture on commitment. Our summer plans evaporated, replaced by ice, water, rest, and a quiet night at home.
I learned a few things that day.
- Don’t start something you don’t intend to finish.
- The work you do when "no one is watching" matters more than the work you do when they are.
- And most importantly: always run through the finish line, even when you can’t see it.
That last lesson came back to me recently while helping a soon‑to‑be retiree and their spouse with a financial plan. They were the definition of disciplined savers, thoughtful, intentional, and well‑prepared. Their finances were in excellent shape. Their retirement date was set. Their excitement was building.
But they hadn’t prepared for one thing: the sudden stillness.
When the work stopped, the silence started. No colleagues. No projects. No deadlines. No water‑cooler conversations or impromptu happy hours. The responsibilities that had defined them for 40‑plus years were suddenly someone else’s problem. And with that shift came something they didn’t expect, an erosion of self‑worth.
It wasn’t anger or frustration with each other. It was the shock of going from 60 miles per hour to zero in a single second. That kind of abrupt stop can take a mental toll. It can strain relationships. It can create anxiety, depression, or a sense of drifting.
But they were problem‑solvers by nature, and they supported each other well. One spouse grabbed a calendar and started scheduling activities, some together, some solo, so they’d have experiences to share and talk about. The other planned regular date nights and future trips, and they both found a meaningful weekly volunteer activity they could do side by side.
Slowly, momentum returned. Purpose returned. Joy returned.
Before long, they were telling friends they were busier in retirement than they’d ever been while working.
All it took was the willingness to push through instead of stopping at the line.
With nearly 26,000 people retiring each month today, I felt it was important to acknowledge that retirement is a good problem to have, but the transition is very real. The mental weight is real. And the consequences of not preparing for that shift can be real, too. The good news is that the solution doesn’t have to be complicated. And if you find yourself needing a little support, feel free to reach out.
Most importantly, remember to run through the finish line!