Lesson Twelve: Do hard Things
It’s been a minute since I’ve blogged, and I’m okay with that. Life has a way of slowing you down when it needs to. Recently, my wife and I went through a difficult experience. We’re both fine, but it was one of those moments that takes time to process. I’ll share more when the time is right, but for now, just know it was a reminder that life doesn’t always follow our plans and that sometimes the hardest things aren’t the ones we choose, but the ones that choose us.
When I started Project 35, my goal was authenticity. Outside of the 35 lessons I wanted to share, I didn’t want to force weekly or bi-weekly posts. Writing is therapeutic for me, not a chore.
Lately, I’ve been testing myself again.
The 75 Hard Challenge
Three weeks ago, I began the 75 Hard Challenge. For those unfamiliar, it requires:
Two 45-minute workouts daily (one outdoors)
A gallon of plain water
A daily progress picture
Reading 10 pages of a self-help or entrepreneurial book
Following a strict diet with no cheats
It was going great. I felt strong. My body adapted to the increased training load. I enjoyed reading again. Then I listened to Andy Frisella’s podcast, where he emphasized that the gallon of water must be plain, with no flavorings or electrolytes.
Cue the “oh shit” moment.
I sweat. A lot. Without electrolytes, my balance gets wrecked, and I feel awful. From a practical perspective, the rule didn’t make sense to me. But the challenge isn’t about practicality. It’s about adherence. It’s about doing things that feel inconvenient or uncomfortable.
I could have kept going, quietly adjusted, and claimed success. I was already down 12 pounds. But I tell my kids to do the right thing, even when no one’s watching. How could I preach integrity and then hide behind technicalities? So, I called it what it was, a fail.
For some, I know it brought joy. For others, indifference. For a select few, sympathy for missing a goal. For me, it was a reminder that the devil is in the details, and ultimately, I had no excuse other than that I should have done better.
But here’s the thing: failure wasn’t the end. It sparked something bigger.
The Misogi: One Hard Thing
Entrepreneur Jesse Itzler often talks about misogi, a Japanese practice of doing one profoundly hard thing each year. The idea isn’t just about finishing; it’s about pushing yourself to the edge of your perceived limits and seeing who you become in the process.
What counts as “hard” is relative. Running 250 miles might be one person’s misogi. For someone else, it might be five. The measure isn’t the number; it’s whether the task stretches you so far that failure is possible, maybe even likely. That’s where the growth happens.
The point is simple: when you take on something that seems beyond reach, you almost always emerge stronger, even if you don’t succeed.
My Hard Things
Looking back, I’ve already had my share of hard things:
Running a half-marathon with zero training in the Afghanistan heat, just to prove I could go farther than a friend.
Completing the Goggins 4x4x48 challenge.
Earning my Bachelor’s degree in 18 months, starting with zero credits.
I lost 70 pounds by completely changing the way I thought about food and exercise.
Each of these left its mark. What I remember most isn’t crossing the finish line but the grit it took in the middle, the moments when turning back to comfort would have been easier. Those are the moments that shape you.
Finding the Right People
Here’s another truth I’ve learned: you can’t always do hard things alone. The people you surround yourself with matter.
Find people who support your endeavors, not because they do the same things, but because they understand the value of growth. The right people won’t belittle you for trying. They won’t roll their eyes at your goals or dismiss your efforts. Instead, they’ll encourage you to keep moving forward, even when you stumble.
People doing well in life don’t waste energy tearing others down. They recognize that effort, no matter where someone starts, is worth respecting. And when you’re striving for something difficult, that kind of support is fuel.
My Next Hard Thing
So, what’s next? For me, it looks like an ultramarathon, 36 miles on my 36th birthday, perhaps. I’ve never been a fast runner, but I’m starting to enjoy the solitude and mental clarity that running provides. When I stop comparing my splits to others and recognize the benefits and joy I receive after a run, it makes me want to see where I can take myself. Eight hours on my feet might be what it takes. And that’s the point.
It will mean training through the cold, the rain, and the snow. It will mean running tired, running sore, running when my mind tells me I’m done. But I know this: I’ve never looked back on something I worked hard at and regretted it.
The work itself is the reward.
Do Hard Things
My challenge to myself and to you is simple: do hard things.
They don’t have to look like mine. Your hard thing might be starting a business, quitting a habit, writing the book you’ve been putting off, or saying yes to something that terrifies you. The specifics don’t matter. What matters is that it scares you a little, stretches you a lot, and forces you to grow.
Because at the end of the day, comfort never changes us. Effort does.