Toughness is one of those things. It’s like a diet, everyone, and I mean everyone, has an opinion on it.
Some people think toughness and they think John McClane in Die Hard. Getting bad guys out of the Nakatomi Tower, and looking cool while doing it.
Other people might think of Steve Prefontaine, an American Olympic runner. He set American records in multiple events and was known for pushing his body to, and past many limits.
Still others, may think about the players from Remember the Titans. One of my all time favorite movie scenes is the “drop a pass, you run a mile” monologue.
Now all these are great. All phenomenal and very entertaining examples of tough people, and in a lot of ways the heroes of my youth.
I always wanted to be tough.
Some misguided belief within me said that tough was cool. That tough meant friends, inclusion, security, or confidence. All things I felt that I lacked.
So I worked out, I did tough guy things. I puked after workouts, I didn’t talk about my feelings, and I acted fine when I certainly was not.
All that really got me was a life built on a lie.
I had been chasing this notion of being tough, when all I really was doing was making myself even more fragile.
Instead of being able to handle hard situations, as soon as something new came along I crumbled.
I was, and certainly still can be, like ice. Hard, tough and cold. But as soon as something tough came along, ice cracks and shatters.
A while back I sold my Jeep Wrangler. It was a crappy car, through and through. I sold it for nearly half what I bought it for.
But once I sold it, I thought “it’s over!” Until about four hours later, the transmission went out on the wrangler on the buyer’s ride home.
Nothing about that felt good. But I feel silly writing this, the transmission was covered under warranty, I was at no fault, it would be fine.
But I freaked out. I was pacing up and down the room. It was horrible!
Side note, that event is actually what inspired my weekly newsletter, The Path to Resilience.
But so there I was, absolutely shattered, over something that literally had no direct effect on my life or wallet.
I was this big tough guy, strong, could push myself to limits in workouts. By all accounts, and to most people, someone who could handle himself.
But toughness isn’t working out, or punching someone, or any of the conventional notions that a 14 year old me thought.
Toughness is keeping a level head when everything goes absolutely crazy.
That’s something I discovered recently, and have actively been working on.
So that brings us to the question of the day.
Where does toughness come from?
I’ve recently been reading Do Hard Things, by Steve Magness. It’s a highly recommended read. Steve has shaped a lot of how I think about toughness.
But throughout the book he has these little “toughness maxims” which are more or less one liner ideas about toughness based on the context of the book.
One of my favorites goes like this
“Real toughness is experiencing discomfort or distress, leaning in, paying attention, and creating space to take thoughtful action. It’s navigating discomfort to make the best decision you can.”
I love this.
It’s truly contrary to the idea of toughness I developed growing up.
Knowing how to do that, create that space for yourself is an incredible skill.
So here are two ways we can work to build toughness starting today.
One, do hard things.
Ideally, life would be easy.
But it’s not.
One of my favorite follows on twitter is this guy Sahil Bloom.
He starts his day every morning with a cold plunge. We can debate the physiological benefits of ice plunges another time (there aren’t many) but Sahil as a former D1 athlete, knows that.
He does the ice plunge for the mental benefit of starting his day with something challenging.
Great concept, but why does it actually work?
Toughness isn’t about being able to hand everything. It’s about knowing that you can handle anything, because you’ve exposed yourself to intentional challenges.
We’re able to dive into the deep end of the pool because we know we can swim. We’re able to run the marathon because we’ve held that pace before. We can have that hard conversation because you’ve said the same words before.
It’s not about predisposed invulnerability, it’s about preparation.
Waking up, and doing something challenging, literally puts your brain in a state ready to handle the hard stuff.
Two, journal through it.
There’s a Stoic practice called Premeditatio Malorum.
Which literally translates to the premeditation of the evils and troubles.
First of all, that sounds super cool.
But what does that mean?
Essentially, it means to imagine all the possible ways something can go wrong.
For those that know me, I’m a fairly big competitive CrossFit fan. There’s a coach named Ben Bergeron, and leading up to the CrossFit games (The superbowl of CrossFit) one year, he had his athletes write out everything that could go wrong. Every single possible thing.
Everything was written, from random shark attack, to injury, to some sort of sickness.
Then as a team they went in and decided, which of these things can I control, and what can I not control, but how will I respond?
My favorite was in case of a shark attack? Bop them in the nose.
But in doing this, there were no surprises. There were no chances to get caught off guard. Remember, toughness isn’t about predisposed invulnerability, it’s knowing you can survive whatever is coming.
There’s a reason the unknown is so scary, because you aren’t sure you can handle what’s coming. That’s why removing the unknown is so important.
A mentor of mine talks about something he does at least three times a week.
“I regularly sit down, and think about everything that could go wrong, and then just let that flow over me. I prepare for those feelings, however challenging it is. All of a sudden when literally the worst possible outcome doesn’t happen, I’m prepared, happy even.”
So that’s toughness. Or at least the definition I’ve developed in my head.
I’m writing a new post every day about toughness, leadership or both. I’m shooting to do it for thirty days, maybe I’ll do it more who knows.
But I mentioned it earlier, I write a weekly blog about my path to becoming a resilient human being! It’s called The Path to Resilience. And if you’re at all interested, you can subscribe here.
Now I’ve got a question, this isn’t really meant to be answered. But I try and journal every day and I like guiding those journaling sessions with some sort of abstract question. One without any right answer, I call it the process of getting to know myself. I’m going to start leaving one of those questions, just for you, at the end of these pages. Today’s?
"If you were to have to tell the story of yourself, when would the chapter on maturity start?”