Winning Without Keeping Score

It’s been a busy few weeks at our place. We hosted a large family gathering—and when I say large, keep in mind that Bob is the oldest of nine kids. We’ve also had a few shorter visits from friends and, somewhere in between changing sheets and loading the dishwasher, made some fairly significant decisions about how we want to live our life here.

First, the family party.

About 40 people joined us for dinner, breakfast, a day at the lake, and, for a smaller and perhaps less fortunate group, some pretty mediocre golf. No one was injured. Everyone seemed to enjoy themselves. I’m calling it a win.

One of the pleasures of living here is watching other people enjoy Bear Lake as much as we do. When friends and family visit, all those questions about why we decided to move here seem to answer themselves.

The questions usually change to something like: How do you get anything done with that outside your window?

It’s a pretty good problem to have. We manage.

Which brings me to another significant development around here: Bob has decided to retire sooner rather than later.

I’ve come to think the decision to retire from a full-time job boils down to two questions: Can you? And do you want to?

Can you build the life you want without the paycheck? And are you ready to give up what comes with the job—not just the meetings and deadlines, but the challenges, relationships, opportunities, and satisfaction of being good at something?

For both Bob and me, the answers eventually became pretty clear.

My working theory about retirement is that you quit your job, but you don’t necessarily quit working.

You work on your golf game. Your neglected hobbies. Your reading list. Your health. Your friendships. Your garden. Maybe you finally learn how to play the banjo gathering dust in the corner.

The difference is that you get to decide what deserves your effort.

That feels like one of the great luxuries of retirement—not doing nothing, but having more say over what you do.

As for me, I’ve gone in the opposite direction and started something new: a small publishing business built around things I love doing and happen to be pretty good at—thinking, making, designing, writing, and learning.

I don’t really think of that as failing at retirement. I think it might be the point.

I get to do work I find interesting, on my own terms, while occasionally looking up from my desk at a five-star view of Bear Lake water and land.

Another win.

Last month, I wrote about my summer scorecard and all the little things I’d been counting: baby turkeys, hot days, rainstorms, raspberries, boats on the lake.

Lately I’ve been thinking about a different kind of scorekeeping.

Maybe some of the best wins don’t have numbers attached to them.

A house full of people you love. Watching someone else discover why you love this place. Knowing when it’s time to leave something behind. Finding something new you want to begin. Having more say over what gets your time and attention.

Maybe winning is sometimes just the feeling that your life is moving in the right direction.

No score required.