The Grind Before the Green Jacket

There’s a version of winning we don’t talk about enough.

Not the highlight-reel version. Not the arms-raised, chest-out, cinematic ending. But the quieter, more human version. The one that unfolded over the last four holes, this last weekend, as Rory McIlroy tried to close out back-to-back Masters titles, with that man Scottie Scheffler hovering in the background like a shadow that doesn’t blink.

If you watched it, you’ll know exactly what I mean. It stopped being about brilliance and became about survival. Every shot was less about “Can I win this?” and more about “Can I not lose it?” The swing gets tighter. The margins feel thinner. The noise gets louder. And the internal dialogue… well, that becomes the real opponent. And Rory… ai Rory. Didn’t hit a green; it was trees and almost water, and spectacular, unlikely recoveries hole after hole. That’s why we love him. He just really has the tendency to get in his own way… and then get himself out of it again.

When he won, it looked less like joy and more like relief. I would love for the man to get to a place of just loving the ride (and I do think he does)… but it feels like the journey to family. Your grandma goes: “When are you getting a girlfriend/boyfriend?” Then it is: “When are you getting married?” Followed by “When can we expect a baby?” and of course “Time for a little brother/sister…”

Rory nailed it. When legend Fred Couples said Rory should just win all the Masters going forward, Rory replied, “That’s very flattering. But it’s not helpful.”

When you are the tallest tree, the pressure is unrelenting. I do think from here on out it might get slightly easier for him, having done the Masters double. In the meantime, we witnessed it all on his face. Resilience. Belief. Patience. Maturity. And, when it was over, relief that the mistakes didn’t come. Relief that the pressure didn’t crack him. Relief that he held on.

And if you’re honest, you’ve felt that too.

You chase something… hard. A deal. A role. A milestone. A version of yourself. You build it up in your mind as this moment where everything will feel different. Lighter. Better. And then you get there, and instead of euphoria, there’s just this exhale.

A quiet “Thank goodness that’s over.” And I’ve had this happen more than once.

You push for something so long, so deliberately, that the pursuit becomes your identity. The early mornings, the mental load, the constant recalibration… it becomes your normal. And when you finally arrive, you realise something slightly unsettling: You’ve changed. The version of you who wanted the goal isn’t quite the one who achieved it.

Sometimes you’re just tired. Tired of the grind it took to get there. Sometimes you look at the prize and think, was it actually this… or was it the chase that mattered? And in more extreme cases, there’s even a dip. A strange flatness. Because the thing that gave you structure, meaning, and forward motion… is now done.

We’ve been circling this idea for a few weeks now. In the Bryson piece, we spoke about rediscovering joy in the game: not just performance, but participation. The ability to engage with the moment, even when the stakes are high. In the vision conversation, we leaned into The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People and the idea of “begin with the end in mind,” but with a twist. Vision is only useful if it pulls your behaviour in the present. Not if it becomes this distant, hollow destination. And even in the Nicklaus story, there was that thread of seeing the shot, yes. Also, the full commitment to execution. Not living in the outcome, but in the doing.

This is the tension: we need goals to aim for, but we need a process to sustain us.

Under Rassie Erasmus, the Springboks didn’t just focus on winning trophies; they obsessed over moments. The Bomb Squad wasn’t about the outcome of the match; it was about dominating a 20-minute window with absolute clarity and intent. And the reserve bench fell in love with their role in the process. Bath Rugby, in the Champions Cup, has modelled this approach beautifully. But then again, the coach Van Graan is South African...

No one on that bench is thinking about lifting the cup in that moment. They are thinking about the next scrum, the next carry, the next collision. And ironically, that’s exactly what made them champions.

In business, I see this all the time. Founders chase a revenue number: R10m, R50m, R100m. And when they hit it, there’s a strange anti-climax. A “what’s next” moment. Either you are in the war, or you’ve won it, and now you’re looking for new battlefields. I wish a lot of us could just enjoy our success. The systems, the people, the outcomes we created through Traction, Scaling Up, and all the other tools.

Our multiple Olympic champion, Tatjana Smith (and someone I shared the stage with at this week’s Liberty Sales Conference) , speaks about this beautifully. The discipline, the repetition, the unseen hours in the pool? That’s where meaning lives.

Because the medal and the moment pass. But the process… that’s where identity is built.

It’s the same lesson I learned walking the Camino de Santiago. No one remembers every step, but everyone remembers how the journey changed them. It’s called THE WAY for a reason.

If you zoom out, this isn’t new thinking. Atomic Habits talks about identity-based habits – becoming the type of person who does the thing, rather than chasing the outcome of the thing. Jim Collins in Good to Great describes the flywheel: consistent, repeated effort building momentum over time, not one defining push. Even CEO Excellence highlights that the best leaders are maniacally focused on rhythms and behaviours, not just on results. 

Different language. Same idea: Fall in love with the inputs. Because the outputs are fleeting.

PG’s Pro Tip:

Here’s the uncomfortable truth: you don’t rise to the level of your goals, you fall to the level of your relationship with the process. 

So this week, three things:

1. Redefine the win. Take one goal you’re chasing and strip out the outcome. What does “a great week” look like purely in terms of actions? Meetings held, reps completed, conversations had. 

2. Build a process scoreboard. Not revenue. Not results. Inputs. What are the 3–5 behaviours that, if done consistently, make success inevitable? 

3. Audit your emotional pattern. Where have you achieved something and felt flat? That’s your clue. The goal carried too much weight. Rebalance it.  

ChatGPT Prompt 

“I have a tendency to chase goals intensely, but when I achieve them, I often feel flat or dissatisfied.

Using an Enneagram-based lens, help me understand why this happens for my personality type.

Then design a practical system of habits, reflections, and weekly behaviours that will help me enjoy the process more and feel more fulfilled both during and after achieving my goals.” 

And if this resonates – if you’re building, chasing, growing, but suspect there’s a better way to experience the journey – then you’ll enjoy what we’re doing in the AI Business Accelerator. 

Because at its core, it’s not just about using AI to scale your business.

It’s about using systems, structure, and smarter thinking to make the process lighter, clearer… and, dare I say, more enjoyable.

The goal still matters. But how you get there? That’s everything. Hit me up with a DM if you’re interested in trying our demo model. 

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