Imagine this: you are running up a hill. You have been running up this hill for a long time (four years) and it’s a really big hill. You paid thousands of dollars to go on this run, and you’re almost to the top.
The whole time, for all those four years of running, your parents, friends, and family members have been yelling at you from the sidelines – words of encouragement usually but they also get pretty mad if you ever trip – and they have been telling you one thing: you just have to get to the finish line. That has been the whole purpose of the run. If you can just get to the finish line and break through it, you will be fine and you can just coast down the other side of the hill.
Now imagine you look ahead on the hill and you see the ribbon of the finish line. It is so close, so what do you do?       You push extra hard, give it your all, and burst through the ribbon at top speed.
You made it! It was worth it all along, you think. Some of your friends ran on less expensive, not quite as steep hills, but you chose this one because you knew the reward would be even greater at the end. And it was. You smile, maybe you do a little victory lap, but all you really want to do now is relax.
You grab a big ice water. It’s a hot day and the condensation on the frosty glass feels good in your hand. You are parched. You are about to take a celebratory sip when someone yanks the glass away from you. You look up and suddenly hear what you hadn’t heard before. Your friends have been yelling. You thought it was just shouts of celebration, but really everyone is yelling at you. Your parents, your trainers, your friends, are all screaming at you. It’s hard to make out what they’re so frantic about but soon you manage to pick out a few phrases:
“Keep going!” they say.
“Don’t stop!”
“What are you doing?”
“Get moving! Quick!”
“Don’t let us down.”
“Don’t give up now.”
You’re confused. “Wasn’t this the end that you were telling me about the whole time?” you ask. They smile knowingly at each other and shake their heads, then they turn down to you and explain: If you don’t keep running for a few more months, all of your effort will be invalidated. You have to make it all the way to the top of the hill or it won’t count.
Come on! Why is this necessary? you think to yourself. It seems so pointless, and you are so tired. But everyone seems like they are counting, so how can you say no?
So you keep running, but you give it your absolute bare minimum effort.
That’s senioritis.