Do hard things.

On Sunday while at Father’s Day Lunch, I overheard my dad talking to my sister about a project my niece was working on. He said, “Tell her Pops said to suck it up and just do it. The sooner it’s done – the sooner it’s over… and then that will be it.”

It made me laugh out loud for several reasons.

1. I flashed back to every scrape, bruise, dread for doing something and hurt feeling I had as a child.
2. The concept of “sucking it up” and just doing “it” is so simple, but so stinking hard sometimes.
3. There’s not a single thing I’ve been faced with more in the past six months than having to do hard things, “sucking it up” and pushing through them.

Doing hard things implies that some encounters/feelings/moments in life are just going to be hard – regardless of the variables; however, it shouldn’t play a role in doing or not doing. Sometimes we just have to close our eyes, grit our teeth and power through whatever the “it” is.

To quote my favorite Johnnyswim song, “The only way over is through.”

If there were ever a mantra that was instilled in me at an early age – it’s this one. Even though it’s more apparent in my life now, it’s not new. It was repeatedly taught to me by my parents. My dad’s advice to my sister/niece wasn’t any different than the advice I got throughout my own childhood.

When I was knocked down on the soccer field as a kid, Dad could be heard from the sidelines saying, “Rub a little dirt in it and keep going. Keep moving. Let’s go.”

We also had similar conversations when a test was too hard, or worse when a friendship or relationship failed.

I wasn’t all that excited to hear that at the moment (rubbing dirt in scrapes and scratches burns, by the way). But looking back, it worked. And now, today, I still hear that voice in my head when I’m up against what feels like the world or you know – when I want to cry.

Even into adulthood, my life has been marked with all the “suck it up and keep going” moments. And over and over, I’ve learned in a multitude of ways that some things are going to be hard – they are going to hurt emotionally and physically – but the world will. not. stop.

Of course, the immediate satisfaction that comes from finally making it to the other side or overcoming an obstacle is the “hell yeah!” moment that many of us strive for. But lately, this isn’t where I’m hanging my hat.

Somewhere along the way, I have found that the lessons I’m learning when I do the hard things outweigh the “hell yeah” (although, I still yell it exuberantly because that just feels good).

My experiences of late have proven that when I sit down and reflect on how I conquered certain obstacles (physical and mental), I’m face to face with moments that contribute to being a better doer, a better leader — a better human.

MURPH is a hard thing.

When I set a goal to complete MURPH – a Crossfit Hero Workout (1-mile run, 100 pull-ups, 200 push-ups, 300 squats and another 1-mile run) – in a 14# vest by May, I knew two things to be very true:

1. It would be hard.
2. It would push the limits of my physical capabilities.

I’ve mentioned before, but if you’re new around these parts – I like a good goal. I like to quantify effort and measure results. Crafting plans and creating timelines is almost as exciting to me as achieving the goal itself. [If it’s at this point where you realize I’m a total nerd, no worries. You’ll get used to it soon enough.]

I have learned from prior years that I can’t just wake up and “do” MURPH – even scaled. Some can (high five to you beasts out there). And while I may be the neighborhood nerd that can help you write a 4-point plan to achieve your own goals, help you with your technological issues or plan an event from top to bottom – I am not a superhuman in the gym.

I was going to need more work than the average Joe. And by more, I mean a lot.

Lucky for me, I have a coach that often pushes me to set my sights on doing big things, to set the bar to make sure it’s attainable and then helps with a game plan to get me there. I also have a support system around me that encourages me to go after what I want. So I went after it, and the lessons I learned over the course of training have been way more valuable than doing the actual workout.

So, here I am… sharing the top three things I learned while doing one of the most mentally and physically taxing workouts I’ve ever completed.

1. The byproduct is often greater than the goal itself.

When I began training in January, I could not do a full military push-up repetitiously. I could knock out a few, but it wasn’t anything to write home about. Often, they made me so mad that I just stopped altogether (productive, right?).

Quick background of a jankety shoulder.

I’ve dislocated my shoulder four times since Labor Day of 2014. Once in a kayaking accident, the other three times in the gym doing normal things like… sit ups, reaching for a bar and reracking my barbell.

The first two times, I bounced back into push-ups like they were my favorite movement to do. But after the third time, I quit working on them. Starting over, what felt like constantly at the time, was a pain in the ass. And what initially started as a blatant disregard for making them better transformed into fear and doubt. “I can’t do military push-ups.”

Internal dialogue is my biggest enemy, and I knew this would be my weakest link for MURPH. And in true fashion, it almost broke me during those first few months of training. But, I stuck with it. I committed to knocking out several each day – 50-75 on high volume training days, 100 on low volume days.

At first, it was three or so at a time – then five… and in a short time frame, I was able to knock out 10 in a row.

In the gym, we often talk about the art of consistency versus the art of intensity. One will always outweigh the other, and nothing proved that more than through training for MURPH.

It was my job to show up and put in the work. While I did both for the opportunity to check off a goal, that goal is behind me. What I pulled from a consistent approach to training continues to move alongside me each day when I walk into our gym. And! The bigger takeaway is that doing hard things can produce results I can use in my daily life – overflowing into my work, my relationships and more.

2. Regardless of training, there will always be something out of my control.

From my last post about introversion, you might gather that I don’t love a crowded gym.

When MURPH day arrived, I agreed to meet a friend early so we could get started 15-20 minutes before typical class time. But, when I walked into the gym – there were SO. MANY. PEOPLE. I was overstimulated by noise, people and the thoughts in my own head.

It took several minutes before I could calm my brain down. I had to get to a place, mentally, where I understood that a crowded gym is an environmental factor and that it has no control over the training I had completed in preparation.

While I could not control the crowd any more than I can control the weather – I could control my attitude and my effort.

I encounter people, situations and moments every single day where I can’t control certain factors. But, me… I always control that. I’ve still got miles of work to do to control the looks my face can produce as an immediate response, but that’s another post for another day.

3. Having a “why” that’s stronger than the “what” provides for a foundation of purpose that is unrivaled.

Shortly after planning to complete this workout in a vest, I opted to tie my “why” to a cause I’m very passionate about – law enforcement + education.

Last year, I established the Blue Line Legacy Fund to help law enforcement officers, their spouses or dependents of to achieve their educational goals. To help with funding, I created an online fundraising campaign to go along with this workout.

For every $10 raised, I wore an officer’s name on my vest. With a community of people I’m so proud to be a part of, we raised right at $1,500 for the scholarship fund and I wore more than 40 officers’ names (both fallen, active and retired) in honor of the risks they take.

I said it then and I’ll say it again – NOT A SINGLE PERSON will care that I did this workout in the future. But, if one more person had a better understanding of the risks our officers take or if one more officer/family member is able to achieve an academic goal without a financial burden – it means more.

MURPH was the what, but the why behind it became personal and impactful at a different level. When I didn’t feel like training or when I wanted to quit, I put on the vest and I trained. Some days it was the very last thing I wanted to do, but not doing it wasn’t an option. My “why” meant sucking it up and doing hard things.  

Reality is full of a lot of hard things.

Honest moment: MURPH hurts. Assisted, modified, scaled, non-scaled, with a vest, without a vest – it’s hard any way you slice it.

At round six of 20, I hit that point (all too early) where I wanted to throw up. But at every corner of doubt and every “let’s quit” moment, I found myself digging deep to hear the positive voice in my head that kept breaking each movement down – step by step – reminding me that this whole thing was bigger than me.

MURPH isn’t designed to be easy. It was meant to be a challenge and its purpose was deeply rooted in maintaining a baseline of physical fitness while in a battlefield.

When we do hard things and we embrace the suck that comes with it, we prepare ourselves for so much more – whether it’s for the purpose of completing a goal, handling a tough work environment, navigating relationships or something equally as complex.

MURPH was hard. Some things just are. The question is whether we rise to the challenge, sucking it up when it’s hardest and making it to the other side with a bucket of lessons learned from the experience.