We Can Do Hard Things
Hey everyone - first of all, I’m sorry for the glitchy email you received yesterday. It wasn’t an avant-garde meditation on emptiness called ‘Raw Mailable’ it was some kind of glitch with my email software. I’m working with them to try to make sure it doesn’t happen again.
Six people unsubscribed after getting it - good! They’re obviously not my people. And if hearing from me doesn’t get you excited and curious, and doesn’t help you connect into something deeper, then make sure to say ‘No’ to this so you can say ‘Yes’ to other things.
Still with me? Good. On with this week’s writing…
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I think the first time the phrase ‘We Can Do Hard Things’ came into my awareness was when someone recommended Glennon Doyle’s podcast of the same name, with its beautiful theme tune written by her daughter and produced by one of my favourite singers.
And I’m reminded of that phrase every time I speak to one of my clients, who has it in a frame behind where she normally stands for our calls.
And it’s been running through my recently because a couple of weeks ago I ran 35 miles as part of a team effort where four friends and I ran 165 miles over 24 hours - someone on the track the whole time.
I ran it last year, and it taught me so much.
And this year, it taught me more.
It was much more painful - we pushed ourselves harder, because this time we knew we could do it, we just didn’t know how fast we could do it. And that meant we suffered more, getting our nutrition wrong, aggravating injuries and more.
And yet, at the end, one of my friends said, ‘This is the best thing I’ve ever done,’ before hurriedly adding, ‘after getting married and having children.’
That is the power of doing hard things.
Before the race, I still had flavours of the same nerves as last year, but as I was telling people about what I was doing - likely running 35 miles in 24 hours - I noticed that it felt completely different. Running 35 miles felt like a normal thing which - I’m aware, for many people - it is not.
That is because courage comes first, and confidence comes after.
We (well, the four of us who ran last year) had the embodied confidence that it was possible to run that far (in fact, because we had an extra team member last year, we actually each ran less, although we also all ran faster).
We can do hard things.
And when we do hard things, we change.
On the other side of the chasm, the dark tunnel, the belly of the beast, is a return to the normal world… but changed.
Since our event, I noticed myself getting interested in running a 100km ultra marathon through some beautiful parts of southern England. And I laughed a lot after writing a message to my friends suggesting we could do it one day together: I wrote that it might be a really nice day out (as long as we kept the pace below a certain level). The idea that running 100km could be a nice day out is one of the results that came from doing a hard thing.
I’ve spent more than a decade now actively practising doing hard things in a way that many people would find extraordinary.
As someone who found it excruciating to step into my creative side in public ten years ago, I’ve practised doing that over and over again. It doesn’t stop stepping into my creative side sometimes being hard - but it means that when I do, I can do it at a scale that me of a decade ago could barely have imagined and would have found it almost impossible to manage.
As someone whose previous relationship included supression of all kinds of desires, wants and asks, I’ve practised over and over again trying to be honest in my marriage, trying to ask for the things I need, not just hoping they’ll happen and resenting when they don’t.
As someone who has deep inner drives about keeping everyone happy and maintaining harmony, I’ve practised telling the truth - or at least, not lying - over and over. And I’ve practised running a business, getting rejection after rejection after rejection (and, of course, some acceptance).
I keep going back for more: for more hard things.
Because they are intoxicating.
On the other side, at least.
When you sit down, task complete, and realise you did it - you faced it down, the feeling is quite something.
Particularly if you’ve been on an adventure with friends, some of the best friends a man could hope for, and got through it together.
We can do hard things.
Not only that, but we should.
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PS My new book, The Power to Choose: Finding Calm and Connection in a Complex World, is out now. Get your copy here: https://geni.us/powertochoose
This is the latest in a series of articles written using the 12-Minute Method: write for twelve minutes, proof read once with tiny edits and then post online.