“You didn’t win,” she winces.
I wish I had one word for the expression on her face as she skillfully rips off
this band-aid. It’s the cringe that goes with “ouch”, along with
the assurances that everything will be okay, yet surprisingly I don’t feel any sting.
Watching television and movie awards shows as a kid, I used shake my
head at the celebrities who would say what an honor it is just to be
nominated. Who are they kidding, I would
think to myself, how can anyone be happy without the win?
Receiving an award can be both
monumental and mundane. We complain that
our kids don’t know how to lose gracefully;
having grown up in a world where everyone gets some kind of token just for
showing up. The taut tape marking the
finish line has never come close to grazing my sweaty jersey, yet I’ve got quite the collection of medals from 5Ks, relay
races, and my one and only half marathon.
There is no doubt we are a
population starved for appreciation. The annual physical is about identifying
the markers of good health: Cholesterol,
glucose, blood pressure. Everything has
a tolerance, a range that’s considered
healthy. I think about how we might
measure the levels of appreciation an individual absorbs into her being. I have
a feeling we’re all achingly deficient. Yet trying
doesn’t seem to be enough anymore
absent of stellar results, leaving awards for participation feeling false and
hollow.
Maybe we have blurred the lines
between true competition and recognition for the effort? Between achieving the desired results and the
experience we deliver as we strive to earn them? Between actually winning and creating a
winning experience?
When we compete in a race, a game
or some other kind of challenge parameters for winning are clear, calculating
results is objective and transparent.
There can only be one winner, and therefore one prize. Recognition is an
entirely different animal. There are no points to tally or time to keep.
Selection committees evaluate subjective submissions. There can be heavy debate to get to the award
of the prize.
In competition not only do we know
who we are up against, we know we are in the race. With recognition, in the
name of surprise, the winners are often clueless until the moment the award is
in their hands, and all others who were under consideration never even know
they got a nod. In both instances the golden statue is bestowed to a winner, yet
recognition has the ability to reward so many more than does pure competition. We
fail miserably with recognition, and miss out on huge opportunity, when we don’t notify the nominees that they are (or were) actually
in the running.
The beautiful thing about
recognition is that it occurs not just in the award, but in the nomination
itself. It is not only an honor to be
nominated, it is an absolute gift to know someone out in your universe
believes enough in you, notices what you bring independent of the results, and appreciates
what you are doing enough to take the time to flag you for consideration.
Recognition looks to inspire, to reinforce positive behavior and habits, to help us feel good about ourselves and the way we go about doing what we do. It’s a catalyst spurring us on our path to greatness. It coaxes out of us those unique qualities we’re tempted to hold back for fear we won’t be accepted; the magic that allows us to achieve our full potential.
“You didn’t win,” she winces.
Yet the minute the words come out of her mouth I know I’ve already won.
I’ve won because she wants so badly
for me to hear her words of recognition. I’ve won
because she knows that in order to share with me her appreciation for all she sees
worthy of winning, she needs to be brave enough to tell me I lost. I've won because she inspires me to press on.
