I love sentences that stop me in my tracks. I’m compelled to write them down. Sometimes I’ll listen to the same podcast twice if I love it, once to absorb the information and again to capture its most significant points.

On a recent podcast, I heard ultra-endurance athlete and author Rich Roll say, “Life is not a race.” Ah, full stop. Sometimes I forget. There isn’t a life podium where we’re crowned for what we’ve achieved. No one’s going to place a medal around my neck and say, “You did it. Five stars for doing life well.” There’s no finish line, scoreboard or single path determining if you’ve won or lost. There is no contest for your fulfillment.

I’ve always known I have a competitive streak, but I didn’t realize how strong it was until I caught myself cheering like a lunatic for my daughter at a swim meet. All the swimmers are kids. I truly want to uplift them all, or at least those on our team! I don’t want to be that mom who treats her kids like human trophies. It’s funny (and totally eye-opening) when you can step outside yourself and really see your behavior.

My friend and I joke that second place is first-place loser. We’re kidding, of course. I love competition for the drive it creates, the internal fire that helps us reach personal goals. What I don’t love is forgetting, in the rush of it all, that there is no race. I need the reminder to slow down and notice everything swirling around me instead of focusing only on the next goal. It’s cliché, but it’s true: life really is about the journey, not the finish line. The only real competition is: Can I be better than yesterday?

Maybe the moment I slow down to curl my daughter’s ponytail matters more than the cheerleading competition. Maybe vegging out with a movie and some Tillamook strawberry ice cream to celebrate will be remembered long after we’ve forgotten where they placed that day.

Now that I’m entering the eye-roll stage of parenthood, it’s more important than ever to follow my own internal gauge, to read my own dashboard. I want to ensure I'm a grounded presence for the tumultuous teen years. Which leads to the second sentence that stopped me in my tracks:

When our twin girls were babies and I held them in my arms, I thought: Life has surpassed my expectations. I felt equipped for parenting because I knew who I didn’t want to be. I knew I loved to uplift and pour into others, but I never realized how much my kids would teach me about myself, or how much I’d want to tweak and grow along the way.

Children are mirrors. Sometimes my tone sounds harsh, and I don’t realize it until the words leave my mouth. Sometimes that tone is paired with a face that doesn’t exactly foster well-being. It’s not enough to watch my words; I have to be mindful of how I deliver them. I’m learning to practice the power of the pause, to choose my words and tone before they tumble out.

I’ve also had to master the art of not taking things personally. You can spend an hour making dinner and your kids might still hate it. That’s not a verdict of your cooking; it’s kids being kids. One of my favorite books, The Four Agreements by Don Miguel Ruiz, teaches: “Take nothing personally.”  This is so hard to master, but life truly improves when you do.

I’ve turned “leaving things unsaid” into an art form. Not every moment needs a comment. People need space to breathe and to simply be. Sometimes we have to deal with our own discomfort of not protecting or solving problems so other people have room to figure it out themselves. As author Anne Lamott so beautifully writes, "Help is the sunny side of control."

I’ve also learned that parenting from an “I’ve got this” place feels completely different from parenting from an “Oh my gosh, I hope we’ve got this” place. Calm parenting is so much more regulating for our kids than being a stress tornado fueled by a fear of mistakes.

Lastly, Harvard psychologist and author Ellen Langer gave me a third stop-me-in-my-tracks sentence:

I love those six words. The simplicity of her advice is so soothing. When I’m present, I really hear the hilarious observations my daughters make. I can appreciate the quiet if I wake up in the middle of the night. Focusing on the moment helps me make that moment more meaningful.

When life overwhelms us, this sentence can be our big exhale. Just take care of the moment. Dr. Langer writes, “Life is made up of moments, and if we make each moment matter, it all matters.” She encourages us to notice new things in our surroundings and in the people we love to wake up in our lives. “Mindfulness lets us see things in a new light and believe in the possibility of change.”

Life is about experiencing, learning and being alive.

Everyone has a unique journey and pace. Your progress isn’t being judged or scored by anyone else.

If I had a podcast, I’d say: let’s value contentment over achievement. You can still chase goals with passion, but check in often: Are you living with authentic awareness, or just sprinting toward the next goalpost?

Are you happy when you pull up to your house? Do you want to go inside? Do you like who you are, and how you impact people?

Fulfillment isn’t a universal clock. There’s no stopwatch timing your joy. The goal isn’t to arrive first; it’s to arrive fully.

Life is about being awake for your own moments: learning, loving and laughing. 

That’s not a race. It’s an abundant way to live.