Every now and then, a moment arrives that shows you exactly why culture matters. Last night in Detroit, Western Michigan won the MAC Football Championship for the first time since 2016, and I could not be more proud. It was only the fourth time in a century. It felt like the culmination of something I had sensed. Last year, when I was provost, I had the chance to speak to the team in a locker room meeting before the season began. I told them then, without hesitation, that I believed they were poised to win a MAC championship. I am glad to see it happen now! Watching our football team step fully into their potential has been one of the most satisfying moments of my connection to WMU.

You might not be a sports fan. But please keep reading. The sports discussion will stop in a moment. I promise.

And it is not just football. Last spring, I stood in St. Louis as Western Michigan captured the National Championship in hockey. Two different sports. Two different teams. One unmistakable cultural shift. The energy around Bronco athletics has changed. The discipline, the belief, the cohesion, it’s all different now. That kind of transformation doesn’t happen by accident. It comes from an athletic director who set a new standard, coaches, staff, and donors who built a new culture, and student-athletes who leaned into the work.

Moments like these remind us what collective excellence feels like. They unite a campus, spark pride across a community, and validate every unseen hour of leadership and preparation that came before. But when the champagne stops flowing, there is a truth that every era of success eventually reveals. History offers an unbroken chain of reminders that glory never lasts as long as the moment suggests.

Empires rise in triumph only to unravel under the weight of time. Generals return from battle to applause that fades as quickly as it erupted. Leaders who once stood at the center of every conversation suddenly find themselves watching newer voices step forward. This is not failure. This is the design of human experience. Glory is fleeting because the world keeps moving, and so must we.

In ancient Rome, victorious generals were given a triumph, a parade through the streets with cheering crowds and gold-laden banners. Yet tradition required someone to ride alongside the triumphant leader whispering, “Remember you are mortal.” The message was stark but necessary. Even at the height of success, you must stay grounded because applause is only borrowed, never earned for life. History shows that every moment of glory has an expiration date, whether people are willing to admit it or not.

Modern history echoes the same truth. Athletes break records and hear stadiums roar, only to feel invisible once their numbers are surpassed. Innovators introduce a world-changing technology and are celebrated until the next breakthrough arrives and captures the spotlight. Moments of recognition matter, but they are never permanent. The world’s memory is short, and if you chase permanence, you will get lost. What endures is not the applause, but the character that emerges when the applause fades.

Moving Beyond Yesterday’s Success

Early in my career, I learned a phrase that has stayed with me: What have you done for me lately. It was not spoken as a criticism. It was a reminder that momentum is not maintained by looking backward. You can respect your past accomplishments while refusing to be defined by them. This mindset keeps you awake, alert, honest, and humble. It pushes you to recognize that growth is a continuous process, not a single chapter.

Life becomes heavier when we cling too tightly to who we used to be. People often allow their brightest moments to become a cage. They replay old victories instead of preparing for new ones. They defend outdated ideas because they fear what will happen when success fades. But the truth is that liberating yourself from the past creates space for renewal. When you stop measuring your present by your former peak, you learn to appreciate the possibilities in front of you.

In this way, letting go of glory becomes a path to personal strength. By shifting your attention from what you did yesterday to what you can contribute today, you create a sustainable form of meaning. Each day becomes an opportunity rather than an evaluation. You wake up with the energy to build, to serve, to influence, and to contribute. That is the kind of life that produces lasting impact. Over time, the accumulation of small daily commitments matters far more than any single moment of recognition.

The Success Lesson Hidden in Every Era

Every era of success, from political trailblazers to community organizers, shows that staying relevant requires constant evolution. People who rest on their legacy inevitably watch their influence shrink. People who remain hungry, curious, and willing to do the work continue to matter long after their first moment of recognition. This is why the world’s most effective leaders do not chase glory. They chase purpose. They chase impact. They chase the work.

Look at the humans who changed history. They did not wait for applause. They acted while the outcome was uncertain and while the world doubted their thinking. Their legacy emerged not because they sought glory but because they pursued something bigger than their ego. Their greatness came from the resilience to keep contributing long after the celebration ended. That is the example worth following. Not the shine of the spotlight but the courage to move forward when the spotlight is gone.

This same principle applies to our personal journeys. No matter what we accomplish, the world will eventually ask, “What now?” It is not a challenge. It is an invitation. The question forces us to stay active, to continue growing, and to keep shaping what comes next. When we see it this way, life becomes less about chasing validation and more about chasing fulfillment. That is where the real meaning lives. Glory may be fleeting, but purpose can last a lifetime.

The Power of Resetting the Standard

The ability to ask yourself what have you done for me lately is not about diminishing your achievements. It is about sharpening your focus. It is an act of accountability that reminds you not to coast. It turns your attention toward the next opportunity to contribute. When you speak this phrase to yourself, you are not demanding perfection. You are affirming that you still have places to go, people to serve, and work that remains undone.

This mindset creates an internal reset that keeps you humble and forward-looking. It pushes you to build skill where you have become comfortable. It requires you to reimagine what you can offer. You begin to recognize that your value does not come from one breakthrough. It comes from your ability to evolve. You develop a reputation not for resting on past glory but for creating new impact with consistency and intention.

The discipline of moving forward is also a way of respecting yourself. When you commit to growing beyond today’s level of recognition, you refuse to shrink your potential to fit the size of yesterday’s accomplishments. You become someone defined by action, not nostalgia. You become someone whose story keeps unfolding. That is the true antidote to the fleeting nature of glory. You write new chapters faster than the old ones fade.

Choosing Impact Over Applause

If there is anything history teaches us, it is this. Glory is temporary. Impact is not. Western Michigan’s MAC Football Championship last night in Detroit and the National Championship run in hockey last spring were electric moments—pure pride, pure joy, and proof of what a new culture of leadership can build. Those teams now have a moment they will share for a lifetime, a memory that binds them long after the stadiums empty and the seasons change. But even these achievements, as meaningful as they are, remind us of a larger truth. When the cheering stops, your integrity, your contribution, and your daily decisions are what remain. Trophies gather dust. Headlines fade. But the people you serve and represent remember the difference you made. The work keeps echoing long after the spotlight turns away. That is why the most meaningful accomplishments in life do not come from being celebrated. They come from choosing to create value even when no one is watching.

Your life becomes powerful when you measure it not by applause or trophies, but by responsibility. You begin to move through the world asking not whether people recognize success but whether your journey made someone else’s path a little easier. You shift your energy from chasing praise to chasing progress. That shift is transformative because it centers intention over image. It builds a life that is both grounded and expansive.

This is why the phrase what have you done for me lately remains so energizing for me. It is not a demand from others. It is a promise to yourself. It is a reminder that you still have another level, another opportunity, another contribution to make. Glory will always fade. Even championship seasons will eventually become memories folded into the larger story. But the work you choose to do today can light the way forward. Keep moving. Keep creating. Keep making a difference. The next chapter is waiting, and it is always bigger than the last one.

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Julian Vasquez Heilig is a nationally recognized policy scholar, public intellectual, and civil rights advocate. A trusted voice in public policy, he has testified for state legislatures, the U.S. Congress, the United Nations, and the U.S. Commission on Civil Rights, while also advising presidential and gubernatorial campaigns. His work has been cited by major outlets including The New York Times, The Washington Post, and Los Angeles Times, and he has appeared on networks from MSNBC and PBS to NPR and DemocracyNow!. He played varsity basketball in high school but never had a real shot at college athletics—especially not at Michigan during the era of the Fab Four, when even dreaming about making the roster felt ambitious. He did, however, manage to win intramural championships in soccer and football at Michigan, which he still counts proudly even if the NCAA never called.