In the midst of digging for a pot of gold, how do you know when to quit? Achieving life’s most worthwhile goals requires uncommon persistence. 

If you think you’re in the right spot, but don’t know how deep the treasure lies, throwing in the towel too soon could mean leaving behind riches galore.

Pat Riley recently mused on the Miami Heat’s devotion to bringing further titles to South Florida.

I think everybody needs to get a grip. This stuff is hard. You have to stay together and find the guts. You don’t find the [exit] door and run out of it.

In 2003, I found myself in the final season of a three-year contract with the Colorado Rockies and struggling mightily. The team made the decision to option me to AAA Colorado Springs. In the days that followed, my swing worsened. I felt the awkwardness of a player stepping into a batter’s box for the first time, not the confidence of a man who had been there thousands of times prior. No matter the adjustments I made, my existence as a baseball player was nightmarish. I recall saying to my then-wife, Lisa, “Alright, what am I really going to do with my life?” I won’t lie; I was unenthusiastic about showing up to the ballpark. I’d sheepishly peek at the lineup from around the corner, praying that I’d get one more chance to prove my mettle, but knowing full well that I hadn’t earned it the night before. I was beaten down by the days of work in the cage with no results. My mind was exhausted.

Staying put is a substantial challenge when the grind gets tedious, when success isn’t coming fast enough or when you’re coming off an ass whipping. Those times require honest self-evaluation and a determination to continue moving forward.  Formulating a plan is necessary. From Napoleon Hill:

Wishing will not bring a successful result. But desiring a result with a state of mind that becomes an obsession, then planning definite ways and means to achieve it, and backing those plans with persistence which does not recognize failure, will produce results.

Before the sun appeared, it got even cloudier. I was released by the Rockies organization and flew home to Los Angeles. This was my moment of truth. I could thrash around violently in the ocean of life, railing at the waves, I could give up, hugging my knees, and sink below the depths, or I could start swimming, pausing to float and rest, then swimming again.

I relied on a childhood pastime.

I discovered myself at a public outdoor cage connected to a miniature golf joint.  During that time of pounding yellow, dimpled rubber baseballs the opposite way and calmly grinding to figure out my stroke, I plugged into my journey and became present. I felt alive and emotional. I didn’t know where I would end up, but I had a plan and perseverance. I didn’t know how close I was to the gold, but I kept digging.

My agent called later that day. “Kap, the Cardinals and the Red Sox both want to sign you to Major League contracts.” Boom, I’m wearing a jeweled crown.

I signed with the Red Sox. A week later, I’m at Fenway Park bashing balls off the Monster.  Talk about gratifying. With the crystal memory of my earlier anguish still fresh, I was able to fully appreciate the land beneath my feet.

No matter how solid the approach, nobody has full pockets all the time. I’ve had my moments of digging deep and still coming up with lint. Inevitably, we all encounter times to remove the work gloves and put away the treasure map, or at least change our pursuit.

Many years after my days with the Red Sox, in 2011, I passionately chased the opportunity to play my final season or two at home in Los Angeles for the Dodgers. It was time for me to be close to my young men. I went as far as sending a personal note to GM Ned Colletti to express my strong feeling that I was a good fit for the club. He and I sat down and my hometown team provided me a shot to make the club in spring training. I put forth an adequate showing, but after our first exhibition game, manager Don Mattingly and Ned called me into the office in the home clubhouse at Dodger Stadium. They informed me that they were keeping Xavier Paul; I had fallen short of my goal and wasn’t making the team.

It didn’t have to be the end for me. The Dodgers would allow me to play for their AAA team until something opened up at the big league level, and other clubs contacted me to discuss Major League contracts. I concluded that my priority was staying at home with my sons, and I ended my baseball career.

Was I quitting because times got tough or was this example of solid self-evaluation of my situation? I’m confident it was the latter. Perhaps some time in Albuquerque would have resulted in achieving my ultimate goal of playing at home. This scenario is open to interpretation. I revisit it frequently.

When times strike you as overwhelming, and your patience is wafer thin, sometimes the ideal action is anything that keeps you moving. If you hone and subsequently trust your self-evaluation skills, you’ll also be able to identify when your situation is stale and you need to find a new energy source.

The trick is to figure out whether fear or another negative emotion is driving our decision-making process or if we’ve rationally identified that a change of course is optimal. Staying cozy in a fruitless situation can be as devastating as giving up too soon. From Spencer Johnson in Who Moved My Cheese?:

It is safer to search in the maze than to remain in a cheeseless situation

Tricky, isn’t it?

As with anything else, practicing awareness is the move. Both stillness and action have their virtues. Dig deep within persistently and vigorously to understand yourself and determine what you need to be whole. Therein lies the true pot of gold.