Esse Quam Videri
Last week I was sitting in the quiet of New Year’s morning, drinking coffee and watching the dogs run in the yard. Sunrise had just broken, and the feeders were busy enough that I caught myself counting birds.
And then, out of nowhere, three words surfaced in my mind.
Esse quam videri.
I knew I had heard them before, but I couldn’t place them. So I looked them up.
They are the state motto of North Carolina, and they mean ‘To be rather than to seem.’ The General Assembly adopted the motto on February 21, 1893 but the phrase traces back to Cicero’s De Amicitia (44 BC).
I should have known that. I’ve lived in North Carolina for twenty-three years. But what caught me that morning wasn’t the historical footnote. It was the recognition that I’d been trying to live those words long before I knew they had a name.
Because North Carolina is the first place I chose to live. I moved here in 2003 for medical school. I met Melody here and we got married here. I trained as a physician in pediatrics and neonatology here. Our three kids were all born here while we were still building a life in the margins between call shifts and board exams.
And for each of those twenty-three years I think the real question has been the same:
Will you be who you say you are, even when nobody is watching?
That is what the motto costs.
It costs consistency when inconsistency would be easier.
It costs doing the unglamorous work of keeping promises that do not earn immediate applause.
There were plenty of moments when leaving would have been simpler. After fellowship we could have gone anywhere, but we got lucky and moved to Asheville instead. In 2019 I spent the year on a plane commuting instead of moving the family to California. More recently, my work at AHA has me on the road every week but our family home remains here.
Each time it would have been easier to choose the version of life that looked impressive on paper. But I found myself choosing the version that was both harder to explain and ultimately easier to live with.
Because ‘to be rather than to seem’ is not one heroic decision. It is a thousand little ones.
It is choosing to be present instead of performing presence.
It is choosing the hard conversation instead of the polished update.
It is choosing the long road when the shortcut would look better.
It is Mile 17.
If you have ever run a marathon (or read past editions of this newsletter) you know Mile 17.
The adrenaline is gone. The crowd thins. The finish line is still too far away to pull you forward. You are in the middle of the work with nothing left but the decision to keep going.
Mile 17 is where ‘to be rather than to seem’ becomes real.
Because at Mile 17, nobody cares what you posted. Nobody cares about your plan or your prep. Nobody cares what you said. All that matters is what you do next.
That is what the last twenty-three years have felt like in the best sense. Not dramatic. Not cinematic. Just a steady accumulation of choices that shape a life.
I did not go looking for ‘esse quam videri’ in the early morning hours of January 1, 2026. but that’s when it found me.
Maybe that is how mottos work. You live them long enough and one day they surface without being summoned.
To be rather than to seem.
That is the work.
That is the cost.
That is the point.
The Perseverance Playbook™ is a weekly newsletter about the middle miles, where purpose is forged and leadership is born. Written from airports, sidelines, and the spaces in between by Dr. Chris DeRienzo.
Want these delivered to your inbox? Subscribe on LinkedIn
Know someone at Mile 17? Forward this to them.