There’s no app for effort
This trophy came home with us this week. My daughter received it for being the best student in her Taekwon-do grade for the year.
In the same grading, her brother didn’t receive any special accolade. And while he didn’t say much, let’s just say it wasn’t the easiest moment for him. A familiar sibling dynamic, perhaps but one that triggered a thought that lingered with me longer than I expected.
It reminded me of the impact of effort.
Outcomes over process
We live in a world that is deeply obsessed with outcomes. Trophies. Titles. Recognition.
We celebrate what’s visible, measurable and easy to point to. What we don’t often see (or slow down long enough to appreciate) is the work that sits underneath those outcomes.
The training. The discipline. The repetition. The showing up when it’s hard, boring, uncomfortable, or inconvenient.
This trophy didn’t come for free. It came from consistent effort. From choosing to keep going when quitting would have been easier.
And yet, everywhere we look, we’re being sold a different story.
An app for this. A shortcut for that. A hack to optimise, accelerate and bypass the hard bits.
But the things that actually shape us: character, confidence, leadership, self-respect… they still demand effort. And, sorry to break it to you, there’s no app for that.
Effort isn’t punishment
Is it just me or has effort somehow become framed as something to avoid? As though if something feels hard, we must be doing it wrong. I’ve come to believe the opposite is, in fact, true. That effort isn’t punishment, it’s proof that you care, that you're willing to put in the hard yards.
When there's alignment between your actions and your values, you're more likely to put in the effort even when there’s no immediate reward or when no one is watching and even when the outcome isn’t guaranteed.
In my coaching work, I help clients navigate this through Hover and Hold. Hover is about noticing what’s happening without rushing to judge or fix it. Hold is about staying with that awareness long enough for something honest to emerge.
That moment between my children was a Hover-and-Hold moment for me. A reminder that growth doesn’t always look fair, linear or evenly rewarded -especially in the short term. But it does compound.
The prize isn’t the trophy
The part that matters most to me, as both a parent and a coach is that the prize isn’t the trophy. The prize is who you become through the effort. The discipline you build. The resilience you develop. The integrity you learn to carry even when recognition doesn’t come.
This is particularly important to remember at this time of year.
As we move toward the end of the year - and into the holiday season - many of us will be doing a quiet reckoning. A mental tally of what worked, what didn’t and what didn’t quite get the recognition we hoped it might. And for many, we may have some unmet expectations.
But I'm reminding myself and you that effort doesn’t disappear just because it wasn’t publicly rewarded.
Presence over presents
There’s a phrase we hear often around this time of year: “It’s your presence, not your presents, that kids value most.”
I think the same applies far beyond parenting. People remember how you showed up. Not the titles you collected nor the applause you received.
Presence is a form of effort too. Being present with your work, your family and, very importantly, with yourself. That kind of effort doesn’t always produce a trophy but it produces something far more enduring.
Taking the next honest step
I’m learning that progress doesn’t always come from big leaps. Sometimes it comes from having the courage to take the next, honest step - even when the path isn’t fully clear and the reward isn’t immediate.
Here are some reframes as we start to take stock:
Instead of: "What have I achieved?", ask: "How have I grown?"
Instead of: "What did I get recognised for?", ask: "What impact have I made?"
Instead of: "What accolades, trophies or prizes have I received?", ask: "How many (next) steps have I taken in the direction of my vision?"
So whether you’re the one holding the trophy this year or not, keep going. Nothing meaningful comes for free.
And sometimes, the bravest and most unapologetic thing you can do is to simply take the Next Step.
