I have good news: life isn’t a sprint.
Last week, Forbes dropped its annual 30 Under 30 list. The yearly tradition, to celebrate young people already making waves in culture, entertainment, politics, and more, has run each December since 2011 which, I suppose, technically qualifies the list for inclusion on itself. The names range from those you’d recognize—Miranda Cosgrove or Alphonso Davies, perhaps—and those you wouldn’t, like venture capitalists Brandon Allen and Marcus Stroud. In between, you’ll find writers and rappers, singers and scientists, founders and forwards. With some 400 names on the list (which, at 30 per field, makes the name technically accurate but wildly misleading by several orders of magnitude), you might be forgiven for wondering what it says if you aren’t. After all, if all of these people were able to get their act together enough to make something of themselves, why can’t you?
I tend not to think much of lists like this; they’re fun and a great way to recognize hard work and up-and-coming talent, and they can serve as inspiration for young people when looked at as a picture of what’s possible, rather than a barometer by which to measure one’s own success. Aside from that, what exactly is to be gained from a list of four-hundred names, most of whom your average reader has no knowledge of, aside from the simple satisfaction of reading lists? The feature, which has long faced accusations of under-representing BIPOC up-and-comers, seems to also have the unintended effect of making young people feel bad about themselves. They already have social media to measure up to; they don’t need a major publication to play the proverbial hovering tiger parent asking why you haven’t gotten that promotion yet or why you aren’t a doctor like your cousin. It’s a line of questioning with no good answers, starting with the assumption you ought to have accomplished more by now and ending in disappointment. 
But success doesn’t have a deadline. And what it looks like is as varied as we are as individuals. There's no age by which you must achieve your dreams, no statute of limitations on ambition, no expiration date on potential. Aside from the countless examples of those who first found success well after their twenties—Alan Rickman made his film debut in his early forties, Toni Morrison’s first book was published at 39, Jon Hamm wasn’t cast in a major role until his mid-thirties, Vera Wang famously designed her first dress at 40, Laura Ingalls Wilder was in her mid-sixties when Little House on the Prairie was published, Momofuku Ando invented instant ramen at 48, and Raymond Chandler was 51 when The Big Sleep hit the shelves—I want to call attention to your mental wellbeing, and how utterly pointless it is to look at ostensibly more successful peers and wonder why you haven’t figured it all out like they seemingly have yet.
There are no rules. There is no playbook nor standard. We create the meaning of our own careers, our own lives, every day, and in the end, the only person you’re competing with is yourself. Sometimes you fall behind where you want to be; that’s okay. But you have to run your own race rather than letting someone else set your pace. The truth is, success can come at any time. It can happen as the end result of years of unrecognized hard work, or it can drop out of the sky after you catch lightning in a bottle. Maybe you’re a Mark Zuckerberg, or maybe you’re a Julia Child. 
Instead of worrying about whether you’ve done enough by 29—as if “enough” meant anything—take a moment, rather, to remind yourself that you exist. You aren’t an object, something other people (or major magazines) can impose value upon, but a subject of your own life. You are a mind, an irreducible, never-to-be-repeated unique perspective on the universe, and not just a list of “achievements.” Your life can, and must, and will be more than that. So, so much more. 
And don’t ever count yourself out before it’s even half time.
We constantly, perpetually redefine ourselves, our lives, our identities. We encounter our values in the world and either recoil and reevaluate them or confirm and reinforce them. I achieved meaningful success in my twenties, and ultimately, over the decades, it taught me what I value besides work. Life is a long, delicate, subtle ballet that finds itself in contrast; like a Balanchine dancer, it’s elbows and ankles as much as it’s curves and grace. It thrives en pointe or on the floor; either way, the dance defines itself. 
What I want to ask you, right now, is what “success” is, and what “failure” must be by extension. Your definition will shift over time; as in so many things, where you stand depends on where you sit, and perhaps it’s easy for me, looking back on a long and lucrative career, to preach from the mountaintop about how life is more than achievements and accolades and money; for many young people, life must be money because money pays rent and buys groceries. I will grant that. But chasing a career just to check off impressive boxes isn’t what defines a good life, or what defines success. You are.
Nobody has to live your life but you, and nobody ever can. You define success. You define the good life. And you, you alone, define yourself.

WRITTEN BY

Liz Elting