You ran 21 miles per hour. You squatted 500 pounds. You knocked out a full Nordic curl. You hit a 40 inch vert 

Cool… 

But here’s the thing: those feats don’t actually matter. The number itself isn’t the prize. What truly matters is everything your body had to become along the way in order to achieve it.

Every physical feat you accomplish is just a symbol — the tip of the iceberg. The substance of that feat is the layers of adaptation underneath of it: joint tolerance, tendon stiffness, neuromuscular coordination, force absorption, power output, metabolic upgrades, etc.

For example, running 21mph isn’t really about running 21mph. It's awesome if someone is able to do that, but being able to perform that singular feat in and of itself doesn't really mean that much from a health and longevity perspective, or even from an overall utility one.

On the other hand, the muscular power, tendon stiffness, neural drive, CNS sharpness and reactivity, the overall resilience your body had to develop to even touch that speed, the cardiovascular improvements, the durability and work capacity and fortitude that were all forged from the TRAINING required to accomplish it — ALL OF THESE THINGS are where the true value lies.

The performance of the feat itself is singular, myopic, unimportant. The training required to achieve it, however, is worth it's weight in gold. The totality of the adaptations required essentially transform you into a different being. You literally have to evolve within yourself to accomplish a physical feat of note. And the more feats of note you can accomplish, the more you have to evolve, and the more you will ultimately transform.

Think of each adaptation as a brick. Every training cycle you perform lays a brick, or maybe several bricks if you're lucky — a slightly stronger tendon, a slightly quicker ground contact, a slightly more robust and more coordinated nervous system (sharper, faster, more efficient), slightly larger muscles, or slightly greater force output.

Over time, those bricks stack into a wall — and the singular physical feat sits on top of that wall like a decorative statue.

But if you take the statue away, and make no mistake, some day all of your statues will get taken away, the wall that you built is still there. The wall endures. The bricks are the real prize. Charizard can become weaker, but he cannot devolve back into Charmander. 

The cool part is, these bricks don’t just support one feat. Instead, they carry over into everything.

• A tendon that can handle massive sprint absorption forces is a tendon that’s highly resilient against everyday stress, and beyond.

• Neuromuscular speed and coordination from sprinting helps you avoid tripping and falling when you’re 60.

• The cardiovascular upgrades from all that running protect you against disease long after the PR top speed fades. 

The massive leg size and strength required to achieve a 500lbs squat means you’ve built the structural armor to carry yourself — and anyone else — through life without breaking down. It means your hips and knees can handle the load of real life: stairs, hills, jumps, heavy work, and play.

The tendon integrity and joint resilience you built from being able to easily rep out Nordic curls will have you playing pick up ball for the rest of your years, long after every one else your age has already acquired a non-contact ACL tear during a casual beer league game, or blown out their backs bending over to tie a shoe.

Meanwhile, you’ve trained your spine and posterior chain to bend in half on purpose — under your terms — with twice your bodyweight on your back during a full range-of-motion good morning. The same movement that breaks most people in half is just another Tuesday for you. Structural integrity earned through stress, adaptation, and intent.

The leg power and insane nervous system sharpness you built from achieving a 40 inch vert will make you the kind of person who still moves like lightning when everyone else your age has slowed to a crawl.

It means you can react, accelerate, and redirect with precision, whether it’s catching yourself mid-slip on the ice, leaping to grab your kid out of harm’s way, or just feeling alive in your own body. You will be quick, coordinated, and reactive for decades — moving like an athlete deep into middle age when most people have already accepted stiff and slow as normal.

So yeah, the 21 mph sprint or the 40 inch vertical is cool. But what’s really cool is everything your body had to become to get there… and everything that version of you can now handle. That’s the hidden beauty of training for performance: the feat might fade, but the adaptations stay. They become a part of you and your new physiology. They don’t vanish when you stop training for the specific goal. Instead they bleed into everything you do. They become your baseline — the armor, the engine, and the operating system that keeps you strong, capable, and dangerous for a lifetime.

The feat disappears, but the bricks stay with you. So stop obsessing over the statue. Instead, value the wall of bricks you’re building. The goal isn’t “be able to run 21mph.” The goal is “be the kind of human who has the adaptations required to run 21mph." The feat is a checkpoint. The adaptations are the legacy.

I don’t have it all figured out. I still make mistakes, I still question myself, and that’s exactly why I train — because the act of building is the point. These bricks aren’t just physical. They’re mental, emotional, even spiritual. Every rep, every mistake, every adaptation is another brick in the wall.

So the next time you chase a PR, remember — the number itself is just a symbol. A fun carrot to chase. But it doesn't mean anything. What matters is the bricks you laid along the way, because those are what carry over into every aspect of your athleticism, your health, and your life.