The Small Goalposts That Change Everything

What Atomic Habits Taught Me About Survival, Sports, and Real Life

There’s an idea from Atomic Habits by James Clear that has stayed with me in a way few things ever have. Not because it was flashy. Not because it promised a dramatic transformation. But because it felt quietly, deeply true—like something I had always known but didn’t yet have the words for.

It comes from what is often called the Stockdale Paradox, drawn from the experiences of prisoners of war during the Vietnam War. Some endured years of unimaginable hardship and survived. Others, heartbreakingly, did not. What stood out was not strength, or toughness, or even optimism. It was something subtler.

Those who survived didn’t pin their hope on a single future moment. They didn’t say, “I just need to make it until Christmas,” or “I’ll be okay when this date arrives.” Because when those dates came and went, and freedom didn’t follow, hope sometimes disappeared with them. Instead, the ones who endured learned to focus on smaller, closer goalposts. Today. Then tomorrow. Then the next day. Not the finish line—just the next step.

For whatever reason, this idea found me and never left. I began to see how often we attach our happiness to some distant milestone, believing life will feel better once we arrive there.

I used to think I would be happy when I reached a certain number on the scale. When the body looked right. When the goal was achieved. But somewhere along the way, I realized the joy was never waiting at the finish line. It was in the movement. In the showing up. In becoming someone who kept going. The work itself became the reward, not the outcome.

The same shift happened in my family life. For so long, I caught myself thinking in “somedays.” Someday when things slow down. Someday when the schedule clears. Someday when we finally have time. But life doesn’t really work that way. There is no sunset we are chasing where everything suddenly becomes calm and complete. Connection is built in ordinary Tuesdays, quick car rides, messy kitchens, and small shared moments. We don’t wait for someday. We take the time when we have it.

And work—work taught me this lesson again and again. It’s easy to believe the goal is the finished project, the successful season, the completed plan. But the real value lives in what gets built along the way. The relationships. The resilience. The belief. The quiet proof that you can keep showing up, even when the outcome is uncertain. The finish line is just a marker. The transformation happens in the process.

This is where Atomic Habits meets real life. James Clear writes about tiny improvements, repeated consistently, leading to remarkable results. But underneath that idea is something even more powerful: small goalposts keep hope alive. Not dramatic leaps. Not distant promises. Just daily progress. One more step. One more effort. One more try.

If you’re a high school athlete, you already know this feeling—even if you haven’t named it yet. Confidence doesn’t arrive after you win. It grows each time you prove to yourself that you can keep going. The real goal isn’t the trophy. It’s becoming someone who doesn’t quit when things get hard.

If you’re a mom, you know this too. There is no final destination where everything suddenly makes sense. Meaning is built in the everyday. In presence. In small acts of care. In showing up again tomorrow.

I used to believe happiness lived somewhere ahead of me—after the achievement, after the milestone, after the moment. Now I understand something different. Happiness lives in motion. Not when you arrive, but while you are becoming.

So here’s the quiet question I’ll leave with you, like we’re sitting across from each other with coffee growing cold between us:

What is one small thing you can do today?

Not perfect. Not huge. Just real.

Because survival, growth, confidence, and joy rarely come from one big moment. They come from many small goalposts you refuse to stop reaching.