The Breakthrough Fallacy

Breakthroughs are built, not stumbled upon

The 2025 Boston Marathon delivered no shortage of unforgettable performances. But amid the fanfare around the winners, one runner stood out to me: Des Linden. This race marked her retirement from professional running, bookending one of the most consistent marathon careers in American history, 18 years after her marathon debut on those same streets in 2007.

Watching the reaction to her announcement and her Boston finish, it was obvious that Des isn’t just respected – she’s revered. In Boston, she’s a local hero. And that status can be traced back to one unforgettable day.

In 2018, the Boston Marathon was held in some of the harshest weather in the event’s history. Runners faced cold temperatures, with wind chills reaching 29 degrees Fahrenheit, torrential rain, and gusts of 25–30 mph. More than half of the elite field dropped out.

Emerging from the pounding rain was Des, to many people’s surprise, who won the women’s race, becoming the first American to do so in 33 years. To many, that was her breakthrough moment – the defining highlight of her career.

But if you only focus on that one victory, you miss the most important part of the story. Before the triumphs came a decade of fighting through setbacks and getting heartbreakingly close. Just look at the decade that led her there:

• 2007: 19th at Boston Marathon (Debut)

• 2008: 5th at Chicago Marathon

• 2009: 10th at World Championships

• 2010: 2nd at Chicago Marathon, 3rd at USA 10K

• 2011: 2nd at Boston Marathon (by 2 seconds)

• 2012: 2nd at U.S. Olympic Trials

• 2013: 2nd at U.S. Half Marathon Championships, 5th at Berlin Marathon

• 2014: 10th at Boston, 5th at NYC Marathon

• 2015: 40th at Boston, 6th at USA 10K

• 2016: 2nd at U.S. Olympic Trials, 2nd at U.S. Half Marathon Championships, 7th at Olympic Marathon

• 2017: 7th at NYC Marathon, 4th at Boston Marathon

• 2018: Boston Marathon Champion

That one win doesn’t define Des Linden’s career — I’d argue it’s defined more by the journey that preceded it. I see years of heartbreaks and near-misses, but even more importantly, a willingness to keep showing up. Her breakthrough was built on a foundation of “almosts.”

After finishing Boston in 2018, Des tweeted something that has stuck with me ever since:

Keep showing up. So simple, yet so profound.

It reminds me of a quote by Jacob Riis:

“When nothing seems to help, I go and look at a stone-cutter hammering away at his rock, perhaps a hundred times without as much as a crack showing in it. Yet, at the hundred and first blow, it will split in two—and I know it was not that last blow that did it, but all that had gone before.”

Sometimes progress feels invisible—until it becomes undeniable. But because breakthroughs are messy and nonlinear, we often misunderstand what they look like.

Reframing Breakthroughs

Des’s story helps reframe how we view breakthroughs. Too often, we’re presented with polished success stories that omit the messy middle. It sets a false expectation that winners simply stumbled upon their success. We mistake triumphs as sudden when, in truth, they are the culmination of countless near-failures.

A vivid example of this comes from Phil Knight’s autobiography, Shoe Dog. Today, Nike is a global empire. But in its early days, it teetered on the edge of collapse so many times that it’s a miracle it survived at all. Suppliers threatened to walk away. Bank loans were denied. Payroll deadlines came and went with empty accounts.

I once heard that entrepreneurs starting a company experience only two emotions: euphoria and terror. Shoe Dog is mostly terror.

The public sees the euphoric highlight reel, the global empire, the swoosh, and the fortune. But the fear and fragility? That part gets edited out.

Trying and struggling often look like incompetence, right up until the moment it looks like mastery.

The Performance Plateau

Breakthroughs are often preceded by long stretches of stagnation. It takes time to absorb the work you’ve done before you see its benefits. In a world obsessed with quick wins, we expect success to arrive prematurely. Instead, we need to normalize spending time on a performance plateau.

You are not entitled to a breakthrough until you’ve earned it.

There are no shortcuts. If you have lofty goals, they demand certain things from you. In business, I’ve heard people say that if you want to make a million dollars, you must endure a million dollars’ worth of pain. It’s the price of admission for a breakthrough.

Progress often feels futile — until it tips. The “overnight breakthrough” is just the last domino to fall.

Time in The Game

My college coach, Chris Miltenberg, often spoke about the importance of “time in the game,” especially when telling stories of fifth-year seniors who finally broke through after years of grinding.

When their breakthroughs came, nobody called them “lucky.” If anything, it was the intersection of preparation and persistence with just the right opportunity. The years of attempts, failures, adjustments, and the courage to keep stepping into the arena are what produced the breakthrough.

If you step up to the plate enough times, you will strike out. But you will also hit some home runs.

The difference between those who ultimately succeed and those who fall short is often breathtakingly small. Sometimes it’s the willingness to stay with a problem a little longer, to absorb one more setback, to swing one more time when everything in you is whispering it’s not worth it.

There Are No Overnight Successes

In the words of Kevin Kelly:

“Most overnight successes, in fact, any significant success, take at least five years.”

(For Des, it took 11 years from her debut.)

Plan for the long haul. Budget your life accordingly.

Reflecting on her retirement, Des shared a few words that echo the same spirit she captured years earlier. This time, it was a letter written to the Boston Marathon and its fans:

“But you never gave up on me, inviting me to keep showing up. Hell, you embraced the fight, because Boston knows grit. The victory in 2018 wasn’t just mine — it was ours.”

Embrace the fight.

Keep showing up.