Last week, I was sitting with one of my coaching clients reviewing his business. He has several closings scheduled for July, has had a strong year financially, and already has a healthy pipeline heading into the fall. By every reasonable measure, things are going well.

So I asked him what his next goal was.

He sat quietly for a few seconds.

“I don’t know.”

Without thinking much about it, I answered for him.

“What if your next goal wasn’t another goal?”

“What if your next goal was simply learning how to enjoy this one?”

I paused.

“Maybe… read a book.”

We both laughed.

But the more I’ve thought about that conversation, the more I’ve realized I wasn’t really talking to him.

I was talking to myself.

Somewhere along the way, many of us became incredibly good at setting goals. We know how to dream bigger, work harder, and raise the bar. We celebrate the promotion, the closing, the revenue milestone, the successful launch. Then, almost without noticing, we replace it with another target before we’ve fully absorbed the one we just reached.

The funny thing about success is that it trains you to keep repeating the very things that made you successful.

Sometimes that’s exactly the problem.

I’ve started to notice it in my own life. There are moments when I finish a project I’ve cared deeply about, and before I’ve even experienced the satisfaction of completing it, my brain is already asking, “What’s next?” I don’t linger very long at the finish line. I don’t think many ambitious people do.

It’s as if we’ve convinced ourselves that standing still, even briefly, is the same thing as falling behind.

I don’t think ambition is the problem. I love ambition. I coach ambitious people for a living, and I wouldn’t trade that for anything. But I do wonder if we’ve become so focused on chasing the next chapter that we’ve forgotten how to inhabit the one we’re already living.

Looking back, I can see how quickly I’ve normalized the very things I once dreamed about. The business. The relationships. The opportunities. The life. Things that once felt extraordinary gradually became ordinary, not because they changed, but because I stopped noticing them.

Maybe that’s what happens when every summit becomes a layover on the way to the next mountain.

The older I get, the less interested I am in asking, “What’s next?”

I’m becoming much more interested in asking, “Have I actually arrived?”

Not permanently.

Just here.

Just for a moment.

Long enough to take in the view.

Long enough to remember why I climbed in the first place.

Coaching Corner

This week, instead of asking yourself what your next goal is, try asking a different question.

What have I accomplished that I’ve already normalized?

What in my life would have amazed the version of me from five years ago?

And where have I been so busy looking toward the next mountain that I’ve forgotten to appreciate the one I’m standing on?

There will always be another summit worth climbing.

I’m sure of that.

But maybe the view was part of the reason we climbed in the first place.