competition

what does playing to win mean to me

Epee Victory at the Olympics by Lucie LLONG

I’ve never considered myself a “competitive” person. At least not in the way most people think when they hear the word competition.

The word usually sparks images of fierce rivalry, winners and losers, and cutthroat dynamics. Moving to the U.S. exposed me to a world where sports are a core part of the culture. People find identity in rivalry, in feeling like they are part of something. I used to think diehard sports fans were a caricature of Americans — until I realized that's genuinely how a lot of people are here.

I’ve always had a drive to see what I was capable of — even as a kid, people would comment on it — but I never imagined an enemy along the way. In a culture where competition is often framed as a battle between winners and losers, I sometimes wonder: am I competitive enough if I just want to win... without needing to beat anyone?

Lately, I’ve been pondering how to reconcile this widely accepted definition of competition with how I actually experience it. I have always been driven and, in my own way, competitive. But not usually against anyone else.

I still fall into the trap of comparing myself to others sometimes. It’s hard not to. But even when I do, the comparison doesn’t fuel me. When I think about competition, it doesn’t conjure images of combat. Sure, I understand conceptually that in many arenas, there are winners and losers. But emotionally, my competitive spirit doesn’t operate that way. It’s not directed outward.

I was hanging out at a friend's place recently, and we got onto the topic of what motivates us at work. I don't even remember what I said, but what her boyfriend said has stuck with me. Without hesitation, he said: "I want to win." And in that context, it was clear that winning meant beating someone else.

That mentality runs deep, especially in business culture. There's a lot of talk about "playing to win,"¹ about sizing up the competition and crushing them. I once worked for a company where an entire quarter's goal was simply to "destroy" a competitor². We didn’t frame our product roadmap around building something great for customers — it was about beating our competitors and claiming market share.

I wonder if there’s a way to reconcile that definition of competition with how I actually experience ambition. A core part of me feels a deep pull to chase ambitious goals and to win — but I can barely even picture an antagonist along the path. I know they’re probably out there. I just don’t spend much time thinking about them. For me, wanting to win isn’t about beating anyone or anything else.

Maybe that’s why I never liked combat sports. I fenced for a few years when I was younger, and I was always amazed by how some of my peers could channel pure fury into every point, throwing their masks after a loss, screaming after a win. I never felt that same fire. And sometimes I wonder if that’s a disadvantage in a world that seems to reward aggressive competition.

It’s a strange tension. I believe deeply in free markets, capitalism, and the idea that competition makes the world better and more efficient. I understand that the earth’s resources are finite, that true zero-sum games do exist — especially at scale³. But when I’m actually in the work itself, I forget about all that. I focus more on running toward a goal than worrying about who’s chasing me or who I’m leaving behind.

I think I’ve always been this way. Even in high school, when people would whisper, “Don’t steal my startup idea,” I couldn’t help but scoff. As if the idea itself was what made or broke a company, especially as high schoolers who mostly just daydreamed about the companies we might someday build. I believed — and still mostly believe — that execution, distribution, and relentless persistence matter far more than originality. That is where competition matters. Not at the idea stage.

And it’s not just a theory — it’s how I experience competition in practice. Last summer, I ran my first 5K. I remember being curious if the competitive environment would change how I performed. It didn’t. I ran about the same pace I always did. Meanwhile, my boyfriend found another gear. The pressure of the race — the energy of trying to beat others (mostly me) — propelled him to sprint past the finish line. That spurt of energy, that urge to outpace someone else, is something I’ve struggled to tap into. It's like I have blinders on. I’m running the race, but I forget to look around to see who else is in it.

Understanding this about myself hasn’t made me any less ambitious. If anything, it’s made me more motivated than ever, not by beating others, but by pushing aggressively against my own limits.

That's the kind of competition I can believe in.

Not a fight to leave others behind, but a race to see how far I can go. Not about winning a zero-sum game, but about playing long-term games with long-term people⁴.

Competition, in this sense — with myself, with time, with possibility — feels like something I can believe in. And for now, that feels like enough.

recently

A little snapshot of what I’ve been up to and what’s on my mind

• I went to DC a few weeks ago with friends to see the Cherry Blossoms. I test shot my new camera - if anyone has tips for how to use the Fujifilm XT30ii, let me know. Spring is here, and I am so excited for the sunshine and picnics.

• I binged It Starts with Us and Verity in the last two weeks. I haven’t read thrillers in so long, and Verity took me for a ride.

• Bok Choy hoops — this was the best targeted ad I have ever gotten on Instagram. I’m so obsessed.

  

• .I went to a housewarming party last week where the hosts designed a riso-printed lamp scavenger hunt. The activity was to explore their entire loft, find each lamp from the print, and collect a sticker next to it, passport stamp-style. It was so cute, and I’m so inspired to do something similar for my next event.

1. I’ve been listening to the Founders Podcast a lot recently, and a common theme in the episode with Ken Griffin from Citadel was about playing to win.

2. We literally used the 🔪 knife emoji in team-wide readouts on progress.

3. I am also such an optimist that I truly believe that markets will grow, value can be created, and the pie can expand.

4. From Long Term Games with Long Term People by Naval