The Cost of Pursuing Goals You Don't Want

For 3rd grade Jason, there was nothing more exciting than a Scholastic Book Fair. I still remember my first one. The fresh displays of Captain Underpants books, a spooky table laden with every edition of Goosebumps, and a section of toys themed after the most popular literary heroes like Harry Potter and Nancy Drew.

A few weeks before the spring fair, my 3rd grade teacher tells us that there will be a reading competition to accompany the book fair this year. Whoever logs the most hours reading will win a 20-minute book shopping spree, all by themselves, at the fair. I can barely contain myself.

Over the next few weeks I devour books, spending more time reading than I do sleeping, knowing I'll have to put up some big numbers to beat my friend Garrett.

The day of the book fair arrives and our teacher gathers our attention to announce the winner.

"Congratulations to all of you readers, we logged hundreds of hours as a class. The student who read the most, winning a book shopping spree and their choice of any book before the fair opens is... Jason Wetzler!"

To this day, I have yet to experience such an elation. I sprint down the hallway to the library and can hardly hear my librarian welcoming me as the first student to shop the fair. I feel weightless, almost floating between displays. The choices are endless. I have no idea how I am supposed to decide, until I see it. A black cover with gold embossing spelling out two words that would go on to change my life forever, The Hobbit.

I open The Hobbit when I get home that evening and dive in. A few pages in, I find myself struggling with a few new words. I furrow my brow and keep turning the pages. After two chapters I realize I have no idea what I'd read and no concept of the plot. "Maybe it's a slow starter," I assure myself and keep reading.

A month later I started re-reading The Hobbit, hoping my comprehension had improved enough to understand it. It hadn't. At some point I tell my Dad my frustration and he reminds me that I should always finish what I've started. I sigh, and dive back in.

Months go by and I haven't read a single page, of The Hobbit or anything else. I despise reading now and anytime I think about books, I just get frustrated that they would write books people can't understand.

My Dad's wisdom of "finishing what I started" was well intended, but misplaced. Instead of learning a lesson in grit, I was losing my love for learning.

Pursuing goals out of obligation, instead of desire, can have a high opportunity cost on our lives. We may find ourselves feeling constantly drained, dreading the process, even when we're making progress or "winning." Obligation goals take time, energy, and attention away from what truly matters and will make success a rare and fleeting feeling.

Unfortunately, well-intended people may encourage us to "stick with it," but when we do we are continuing to trudge up a mountain we may have never wanted to climb in the first place. It may be the wrong time, the wrong place, or simply the wrong goal. Whatever, the reason, achieving that goal won't feel like much of an achievement.

Instead, we should give ourselves permission to move forward or return to the goal later. Revisit your values, connect your ambitions with your purpose, and ensure you have a clear reason for pursuing your goals.

Years after I attended my last Scholastic book fair, I found my copy of The Hobbit buried under number of other fantasy books on my shelf. I cracked it open to the middle, a chapter I never made it to before, and without realizing it, read for over an hour. I stopped, smiled, and realizing I'd set a new goal without even trying. I was going to read The Hobbit, not because I had to, but because I wanted to.

Fact

Scholastic started hosting book fairs in 1981.

Action

Let go of a goal that you've been pursuing out of obligation.

Question

What would you pursue if no one was watching?

Quote

"Be careful not to climb the ladder of success only to find it's leaning against the wrong wall." - Stephen Covey