This past Saturday was test day at my house. 

As my husband Rob prepared to sit for a four-hour certification exam (adding to his fast-growing set of teaching credentials), Mother Nature was getting ready to test us with another six inches of snow and freezing rain. Inside, I was facing a different challenge – a fitness test I’d been avoiding for more than a year.

The FTP test is something of a sacred ritual among Peloton riders. Maybe you’ve taken it yourself. While the Power Zone coaches wisely counsel us not to expect improvement every time, let’s be honest. We absolutely do. We’re conditioned to chase exactly that. 

As much as it’s a measure of fitness, the FTP provides a gauge of our progress, calculated by an algorithm and served up in clean, linear terms. The result is a single number that tells a story – one that we believe should only trend upward. 

Until today, I’d only ever taken the test when I was confident I’d continue that upward trend.

But on this particular morning, I took to the bike with a very different intention. Instead of chasing a personal record, I wanted to understand: What’s here now? How will I show up today, in this body, in this moment? What will I experience and what will emerge if I simply let myself be exactly who and where I am right now?

Throughout the process the mental chatter was relentless: “You won’t finish.” “You’ll never get through 20 minutes; your last test was more than a year ago. A lot’s changed since then.” 

You know the voice. The one that measures our worth in things like points, pounds, and perfection. The one that believes it’s only truly transformation if you’re trending upward.

I finished the test. In the minute before my results appeared, I noticed with satisfaction that I’d stayed in or slightly above my target zone. My graph looked perfect. And when my new score finally appeared – a spellbinding 17 points lower than my previous – I realized something I truly didn’t see coming: I was thrilled.

Not because of the number, obviously, but because for the first time, the number didn’t define me.

I felt great. As great as I had seeing my zones and graph. As great as feeling the endorphin rush of going all-out for a straight 20 minutes.

It dawned on me that as it relates to leadership, our fixation on constant improvement, and on “improvement” being tied to always trending upward, can blind us to the profound value of showing up just as we are. Whether we’re leading teams, pursuing certifications, or simply facing ourselves on a Saturday morning, true growth isn’t always captured in the quantitative metrics.

Sometimes, leadership and growth aren’t about proving we’re better – they’re about having the courage to ask ‘What’s here now?’ Maybe our greatest achievements are less about surpassing previous benchmarks and more about finally letting go of our attachment to them.

If my new number is 17 points lower, well, I guess that’s my new baseline. But the real victory for me lies in the unexpected revelation that sometimes the truest marker of our growth isn’t in the numbers we achieve, but in our readiness to see beyond them.

What metrics are you ready to drop your attachment to?