Progress Over Perfection By Coach Lexi Reed
Growing up, my dream was to play basketball at Duke University—really for no reason other than that it was a big-time basketball school, and after visiting North Carolina once, I thought it seemed pretty cool. I played club basketball throughout middle school, and going into my freshman year, I had committed to play “fall ball” with my high school team.
That same fall, my school hosted a back-to-school community 5k. I signed up, mostly because I wanted to “lock in” and get in shape for winter basketball season. Little did I know that race would change everything. I ended up winning my age group, and the cross country coaches begged me to join the team. Since I was already committed to basketball, I said no—but the seed was planted.
The following spring, I went out for track, and that’s when my running career began. At first, I loved it simply for the fun of practice with friends, improving steadily, and enjoying a new sport and challenge. But by my sophomore cross country season, I was consistently finishing top three—and suddenly, the pressure hit. Even if it was mostly my own perception, I felt like every race had expectations attached. When I eventually committed to a full-ride scholarship at Oregon State University, the pressure grew even heavier, and so did my pre-race nerves.
College was a whole new ballgame. I went from being the “top dog” to just another runner in a sea of very fast runners. To my surprise, I earned a spot in the top seven for our cross country team as a freshman, which meant traveling and competing in every big meet.
I wasn’t leading the team, but I was scoring points—and I was proud to contribute right away. Indoor track was less remarkable as I adjusted to year-round mileage (without basketball breaks). By outdoor season, adversity hit: a stress fracture in my foot.
Building on that, my sophomore year was one of the hardest: a new coach, another injury, homesickness, and the disconnection that comes with being sidelined. My identity was built almost entirely on being an athlete, and without that, I felt lost. When I finally got healthy, I was determined to prove my worth. I had a strong cross country season, helping our team qualify for Nationals for the first time ever, and I ran a personal best in the 5k at regionals. But behind the results, the anxiety and pressure were back in full force. I continually battled nagging injuries, dreaded workouts, and felt like I couldn’t afford to mess up- I was given a full-ride scholarship for a reason, right?
By senior year, I was consistently one of our top three, but I was also carrying chronic pain and mounting anxiety. I told myself I just needed to get through one last track season. Then March 2020 hit, and the season was canceled due to the pandemic. My emotions were mixed—sadness, disappointment, and surprisingly, relief. For the first time, the pressure was gone.
Looking back now, I can see it so clearly: I was extremely burned out. Years of self-imposed pressure and perfectionism had taken their toll. I was known as a “consistent” racer, and I felt like my teammates and coaches relied on me to deliver every time. But because I couldn’t accept the reality of bad days and off races, my anxiety only grew. When the season was canceled, my perfectionistic, type-A self finally exhaled.
Here’s the biggest lesson I took away—and what ultimately led me to pursue sport psychology: Perfection doesn’t exist. Everyone defines it differently, and even if you reach your own version once, the target will shift. Chasing perfection only feeds pressure, stress, and anxiety.
So what’s the alternative? Progress.
Progress isn’t linear. You’ll have good days and bad days, great performances and frustrating setbacks. But those “bad” days don’t erase your growth—they’re part of it. Every injury, every rough practice, every missed opportunity is a test. And when you push through, you’re adding coins to your metaphorical “success piggy bank.” That resilience is worth more than any “perfect” performance.
So the next time you catch yourself chasing perfection or having a bad day, stop, breathe, and ask:
● What progress am I making?
● What controllables can I focus on right now?
● What can I learn from this experience moving forward?
Not everything is within your control, and chasing what isn’t will only fuel your anxiety. Progress—not perfection—is what sustains growth, resilience, and long-term success, and adopting this mindset will allow you to avoid burnout and enjoy your sport more.
Remember: Progress > Perfection.