The Other 90%

I had a conversation recently that made me think about success. My first thought was that maybe only 10% of the things we work on become something that others might see as successful. The other 90% is everything that happens along the way.

 

The more I thought about it, though, the more I realized that I didn’t really like looking at it that way. Because calling the 10% “success” suggests that the other 90% must somehow be failure. I don’t believe that. I am not even sure I know how to define success. I feel similarly about the word perfect. There are too many variables. Too many perspectives. Too many different starting points. What looks like success to one person might mean very little to another.

 

Maybe a better way to say it is this: The 10% is what you might see as success. The other 90% is what made it possible.

 

You see the project that happened. You don’t see all the emails that went unanswered. You see the program that launched. You don’t see the funding application that was declined. You see the partnership. You don’t see the dozen conversations that went nowhere before the right conversation happened. You see where we ended up. You don’t necessarily see that where we ended up looks nothing like where we thought we were going when we started.

 

And I wonder if we sometimes do the same thing with Physical Literacy.

 

We see the 10%. We see a child riding a bicycle. We see someone confidently joining a game. We see an athlete competing at the Arctic Winter Games, Canada Games or North American Indigenous Games.  We see someone who chooses to go for a walk, join a recreation program, try Table Tennis, go skiing, dance, paddle, run, or simply move because it feels good. Those are the visible moments.

 

But what was the other 90%? Maybe it was falling off the bicycle twenty times before finally finding balance. Maybe it was standing at the edge of the gym watching everyone else before feeling comfortable enough to join. Maybe it was a teacher quietly changing an activity so a student could experience success. Maybe it was a coach noticing that someone needed encouragement rather than correction. Maybe it was a parent driving to practices, a recreation leader opening the gym, a friend saying, “Come with me,” or a community finding enough money to make an opportunity possible. Maybe it was trying five different activities before discovering the sixth one was something they actually enjoyed. And maybe what eventually happened wasn’t what anyone envisioned in the beginning. That last part matters.

 

Physical Literacy is not about creating one predetermined outcome.

 

The child who learns to skate does not need to become a hockey player. The student who discovers they can run does not need to become a competitive runner. The young person introduced to sport does not need to make Team NT for the experience to have value. Sometimes the destination changes. Actually, I think it probably should. Because developing the confidence, competence and motivation to move throughout life is personal. The activity that gives someone that feeling might not be the activity we originally imagined for them.

 

Our job isn’t to decide what their 10% should look like. We may simply have the opportunity to become part of their other 90%. Create opportunities. Remove barriers. Encourage another attempt. Make activities adaptable. Let people explore. Help someone belong before expecting them to perform. Give them permission to change direction.

 

And perhaps most importantly, recognize that something doesn’t have to end where we expected for it to have been worthwhile. There is a lot happening before the moment we eventually notice.

 

So the next time we see someone moving confidently, participating, competing, or simply finding joy in being active, maybe we should remember: That is the 10% we can see. The other 90% is what made it possible.