To win is not important. To be successful is not even important.

“To win is not important. To be successful is not even important. How to plan and prepare is crucial. When you plan very well and prepare very well, then success can come on the way. Then winning can come on your way.” Thus spoke Eliud Kipchoge, the great marathoner of our age, whose feet carried him beyond the limits of what mankind believed possible. His words are not merely about the race of the body, but about the race of life itself. For in them lies a truth as old as the mountains: victory is not seized in the moment of triumph, but is born in the long hours of unseen labor, in the discipline of mind, and in the sacred act of preparation.

In the wisdom of the ancients, men were taught that glory is never the fruit of chance, nor the gift of fortune’s hand. The plan is the seed, the preparation the soil, the patience the rain, and only then does the harvest of success come forth. To chase victory without these foundations is like building a temple upon sand—the moment the storm rises, it shall collapse. Kipchoge’s words remind us that the crown of the victor is but the shadow of the true triumph: the mastery of self through relentless dedication.

Look to the life of Kipchoge himself. When he became the first man to run a marathon in under two hours, the world gasped at his swiftness. Yet the true wonder was not in those one hundred and nineteen minutes, but in the years of preparation that preceded them. His dawn runs upon red earth, his humble meals, his tireless repetitions—these were the hidden pillars that bore the weight of his achievement. The world saw the moment of victory, but the gods bore witness to the discipline of a lifetime.

History offers us another mirror in the tale of the Roman general Scipio Africanus. When Rome faced Hannibal, many believed the city was doomed. Yet Scipio, through careful planning and tireless preparation, turned the tide of war. He studied his enemy’s movements, trained his men with new methods, and struck at the precise moment when Hannibal was weakest. Rome’s triumph was not born on the battlefield of Zama alone, but in the long foresight and steady preparation that made such a battle possible.

The teaching is clear: to crave only winning or success is to miss the heart of the journey. For both are but guests who visit the home of those who are disciplined in preparation. If you seek the prize without building the house, the guests will never arrive. But if you labor each day, laying brick upon brick with patience and faith, then one day both success and victory will knock upon your door unbidden.

O children of tomorrow, remember this: the greatest victories are not sudden, nor are they born in the blaze of the crowd’s applause. They are forged in silence, in solitude, in the hours when no eye is watching. Ask yourself not, “How may I win?” but rather, “How may I prepare?” For the one who is prepared is already half victorious, even before the contest begins.

In your own life, let this wisdom guide you. Craft your plans with clarity, for a vision without order is but a dream. Give yourself to daily preparation, no matter how small the task may seem. Learn from your failures, for they are teachers pointing the way. Do not measure yourself only by the prizes you hold, but by the steadfastness with which you walked your path.

Thus, let Kipchoge’s words echo in your heart: the crown is not in the winning, nor the glory in the fleeting moment of success. The crown is in the plan well-laid, the preparation well-made, the discipline unbroken. Walk this path, and know that when victory and success appear on your way, they will not be accidents of chance, but the rightful companions of your long and noble journey.