Progress Measured by Movement, Not Pristine Beginnings
Measure progress by the distance moved, not by the perfection of the start. — Helen Keller
Reframing Progress as Distance Traveled
Helen Keller’s line urges a shift from idolizing flawless beginnings to honoring motion. Progress is a trajectory, not a snapshot, and what matters is the gap between where you were and where you stand now. Keller’s own story illustrates the point: the famed water-pump breakthrough—when “w-a-t-e-r” finally connected with sensation—did not crown a perfect start but transformed a difficult one into forward momentum. Her memoir, The Story of My Life (1903), shows progress as a chain of increments, each step meaningful precisely because the starting line was far from ideal.
The Mirage of Perfect Beginnings
Building on this, the myth of the immaculate launch often stalls real work. Teams and individuals delay, polishing initial conditions instead of learning through motion. Eric Ries’s The Lean Startup (2011) popularized the minimum viable product for this reason: useful feedback arrives only once something moves. Likewise, creative masters kept messy sketchbooks—drafts, revisions, and half-tries that eventually cohere. When we privilege distance over pristine beginnings, we accept imperfection as the price of discovery and trade hesitation for iterative clarity.
Motivation Science: Small Wins Compound
Psychology backs this motion-first ethic. Carol Dweck’s Mindset (2006) shows that a growth mindset interprets effort and improvement as signals of capability, making early imperfection tolerable and even informative. Complementing this, Teresa Amabile and Steven Kramer’s The Progress Principle (2011) finds that small, visible wins catalyze motivation and creativity at work. Importantly, the brain rewards evidence of movement; each measurable step reinforces the next, creating a flywheel that rarely emerges from static perfection. Thus, tracking distance moved not only records progress—it fuels it.
Fairness: Different Starting Lines
Extending the idea further, not all starting points are equal. Circumstance, training, and luck stagger the field. John Rawls’s A Theory of Justice (1971) argues that fair assessments discount arbitrary advantages—an intuition mirrored in value-added approaches that evaluate growth rather than raw standing. Like staggered lanes on a track, the question is not who began closest to the finish but who advanced given their lane. Measuring distance honors effort, surfaces latent potential, and prevents early privilege from masquerading as merit.
Practical Metrics: How to Track Distance
Turning to practice, establish a baseline, define a small target, and measure deltas at a steady cadence. A runner might log weekly minutes run rather than chasing an ideal split; a team might track cycle time reduced, not features dreamed. Deming’s Plan–Do–Check–Act (Out of the Crisis, 1986) embeds this logic: run an experiment, compare to baseline, then adjust. Simple artifacts—trend lines, before/after samples, checklists—convert movement into evidence. Over time, the accumulation of small, verified deltas outperforms the mirage of a perfect start.
Direction Matters: Measuring the Right Distance
Finally, movement must be vector, not mere speed. Define a north-star outcome and assess whether each step closes that specific gap. John Boyd’s OODA loop—Observe, Orient, Decide, Act—reminds us to continually re-orient so movement stays purposeful. Beware Goodhart’s Law (1975): when a measure becomes a target, it can distort behavior. The remedy is periodic sense-making—does the measured distance still point toward the goal? When trajectory and distance align, progress is both real and resilient.