“È bravo, ma non si impegna.” ( “He is very smart, but if he put in more effort, he could achieve so much more.” )
This sentence followed me for my entire childhood.
I was a good student: good grades, good results, never the best, but good. And I studied. A lot, in my opinion.
Yet the feedback always carried that same message:
“You could have gotten an A… if only you had worked harder.”
Sometimes I even got worse grades than classmates who had identical results because they “worked hard”, so they were rewarded, while my work was discounted and attributed to “talent.”
I can’t say whether those comments shaped who I am today, or whether something deeper was already there. Pushing me to always do something more - although I always knew I could put in more effort.
But the reason I didn’t give “everything” is simple:
Good enough was, simply, good enough.
Somewhere in my head, there has always been a calculation:
What is the right effort/result ratio that still allows me to enjoy life?
If studying one hour gives me a B and 30 minutes of play… why study 90 minutes to get an A and lose that joy?
This is something I’ve realised even more since becoming a father ( and while reflecting on my climbing goals).
I could definitely climb harder - if I gave up some joy.
Climb 20 minutes more each session instead of enjoying a beer with my climbing partners.
Skip a fun climbing day in favour of painful, boring weight lifting and stretching.
Avoid indulging in food and alcohol.
But… would all that be worth it?
My son recently got the same remark (he's good but could put in some more effort) from his teachers, and he also stopped getting on the podium in climbing competitions.
He’s still top 10 in Germany - but he achieves that with the right amount of effort, while staying a happy, social kid, who alongside hard trainings and competitions, plays an instrument, does well in school, and has friends and a life.
Some children sacrifice everything for one goal. Some parents push their kids to go all in on a single bet.
He doesn’t. I didn’t.
And I’m not sure that’s a flaw.
Proudly Mediocre
Recently I stumbled upon a short reel by Mauro Corona - climber, writer, sculptor - talking about being “proud of being mediocre.”
He says:
“To excel at one thing, I would have had to throw away years of my life…
And I only have one of those.
So I ended up being mediocre — but I did everything I loved doing.”
And suddenly everything clicked.
Life is too short to sacrifice variety for perfection, being mediocre at 10 things can be more valuable than being the best at one. Because diverse experiences compound into something far richer.
And let’s be clear, Mauro Corona is anything but mediocre! He is an incredible man, with a strong character and lots of stories.
He just consciously chose breadth over obsession.
And so, in a way, did I.
But Then Comes the Other Voice: “You Could Do More.”
Despite everything, that teacher’s voice still echoes somewhere:
“You could do more.”
“You should do more.”
“You’re not doing enough.”
And this connects to something else that often bothers me: untapped potential.
That awareness that if you want to excel at something, you must commit fully. And if you don't put in 110%, it feels like a pity!
The responsibility of luck
This conflict became even clearer when I read the book:
“I Must Do That, Because I Can.” (Devo perche’ posso) by the mountaineer Simone Moro.
If life gives you the gift of talent, opportunity, and luck, you feel a duty to honour it by doing something meaningful with it.
If chances are handed to you, you must catch them.
You have a responsibility not to waste them.
This resonates deeply with me:
I know I am lucky.
Lucky to have opportunities, resources, health, support, the ability to learn and grow.
Lucky to have challenges worth pursuing.
And this is where the tension lives: I know I have untapped potential and I could accomplish much more - therefore I feel grateful and guilty at the same time.
But then I remind myself that giving 90% across multiple domains is not wasting my potential. It is choosing a full, rich, multidimensional life.
Still, these thoughts push me, especially at work and in parenting.
I set a high bar for myself and, admittedly, for others too. With the downside that I often end up frustrated, disappointed, and exhausted.
Constraints, Expectations, and Excellence
An ex-colleague who was leaving for “greener pastures” told me something that made me think, about ambition, agency and acceptance. About understanding that no matter how high my expectations are, I operate within real constraints:
- How much time I have
- How many resources are available
- How much support and collaboration I can expect
- How quickly others can deliver their part
- How much of the system can I realistically influence
Maybe the version of excellence I envision is not what the current context requires.
Maybe what I could achieve in ideal conditions is irrelevant; what I could achieve at full potential is not what is needed now.
Maybe it’s not even desired.
Accumulating frustration about “what could be” is pointless and damaging; the resentment is visible and it impacts morale and performance, mine and others’.
Love It, Change It, or Leave It
I am not someone who gives up easily. I try to change things first.
But I also need to focus on what I can control, what I can influence, and what I must accept.
Until I manage to change a situation, the choice is simple:
- Love it — or leave it.
- Focus on what I can control.
- Influence what I can influence.
- Let go of the rest.
And if I choose not to leave — not now, or not ever — then the healthiest thing I can do is love it as it is, not as it would be under perfect conditions.
Turning constraints into catalysts
Focusing on what I can do within real constraints allows me to acknowledge effort and success, instead of always staring at the gap.
To be proud of what I accomplish within the actual boundaries I face — not imaginary ones.
Constraints force priority.
Constraints sharpen focus.
Constraints make expectations realistic.
They become not the reason I underperform, but the reason I choose the right things to perform on.
"Maybe excellence isn’t doing everything at 110%, but choosing where 90% is actually impactful.”
And here’s something I say with humility, not arrogance - with gratitude rather than pride:
I know that even when I operate at 80–90%, it often looks like “a lot” from the outside.
Not because I’m exceptional, but because my baseline has been shaped by years of habits, curiosity, and luck — luck in the opportunities I've had, the people who supported me, and the challenges that pushed me.
That’s exactly why I must stay mindful of expectations: What feels natural to me isn’t necessarily fair, realistic, or healthy to expect from others.
And as a leader I’ve learned (almost) that expecting permanent 110% from myself or others is unsustainable.
It hurts morale.
It hurts quality.
It hurts people.
Learning to choose my effort deliberately has made me more effective, not less ambitious.
I am grateful for the chances life has given me.
I do feel the responsibility to honour them.
Therefore, I constantly push myself — sometimes too far, sometimes not far enough. But it's fine, as long as I keep on growing.
I’m proud of being many things — a software engineer, a climber, a father, a community builder, a leader, a writer, a public speaker and a curious human — even if I’m not world-class in any single discipline.
Mediocre snowboarder, mediocre engineer, mediocre climber — maybe.
But I got to be all of them.
And that breadth has shaped me far more meaningfully than mastery of one.
All those experiences compound, and choosing a full, multi-dimensional life is the most honest way I can honour the luck I was given.
Not by squeezing every drop of potential into a single pursuit, but by living widely, intentionally, gratefully.
Maybe that’s my version of excellence.
Other related articles:
Maybe you should start listening to that voice telling you that YOU SUCK!
Be the Rising Tide: The Multiplying Effect of Lifting (and Pushing) Others
Top comments (2)
At one of my schools, we got two grades, one for "effort" and the other for "attainment". I'd consistently get low and high grades respectively, and that was seen as bad.
yeah. exactly!
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