American Ninja Warrior
There are a lot of Navy SEAL books out there. People like to take life advice from Navy SEALs, I guess. Especially on Wall Street. Finance folks hold the military in high regard, especially the special forces people. If you were to identify the core competency of a Navy SEAL, it is that he can withstand a superhuman amount of physical pain—and keep pressing forward.
I have known a handful of SEALs in my lifetime. In 2017, I think, I was at the Navy base on Coronado Island and met several of them. One of them was running an Ironman a week for an entire year. The guy was nothing special—6 feet tall, maybe 185 pounds, but he probably could have killed me with his bare hands. That’s nice, I guess, but I’m not sure why we’re taking life advice from these people. And here’s the reason why not: just because you physically disciplined, does not mean you are mentally or emotionally disciplined. And mental and emotional discipline is what it takes to succeed in life—not how fast you can run an Ironman.
I know what you’re thinking—don’t you have to be mentally disciplined to be physically disciplined? Like, if you’re running a marathon (which I have) and you hit the wall (which I have), don’t you have to be mentally tough to keep running and finish the race, instead of quitting? Well, yes—but that is a specific kind of mental toughness. Having what it takes to dig deep and finish a race is, yes, mental toughness. But that variety of mental toughness doesn’t translate into other kinds of mental toughness. I have seen actual former special forces people crumble under the pressure of a trading floor, or shrivel up and die after people say mean things to them online. Just because you can run a sub-three marathon does not mean that you are going to succeed elsewhere in life. I’d repeat that sentence, but you can just go back and read it again.
And yet for years, I saw the bulge-bracket banks wave in dozens and hundreds of military people (myself included) because they conflated being tough with being smart, or conflated being tough with having an ability to manage risk. More often than not, you had a trading floor full of money-losing tough guys. This is a generalization, and there are exceptions. I can tell you that in my personal experience at Lehman Brothers, there were far more military folks that failed than succeeded. But it never changed the mythology around tough guys, and it never changed the recruiting practices. At least by now I think the Navy SEAL books are played out.
You want to see mental toughness, go find someone who is struggling with some hard-core mental illness (bipolar disorder, BPD, or schizophrenia, for starters) who suits up and shows up and does their best day in and day out. If you’ve ever been in the throes of it, you know. Of course, this is not to be confused with the person with mild unipolar depression who is feeling a little blue and spends two weeks on the couch watching the soaps. That’s not to belittle that person’s experiences, which are absolutely real and debilitating, but the person with severe mental illness who can dig deep and keep going in spite of that crippling psychic pain is a hero in my book. That is some Navy SEAL shit, right there. I’m not afraid of bombs and bullets—I’m really not. I’m afraid of the inside of my own head.
But we tend to celebrate physical achievements over mental achievements, don’t we? I was scrolling through Facebook earlier today and I saw that a local friend of mine posted that he had just run his second half marathon. Not too fast, but he finished it. Bring on the likes and comments. I know this guy, and I know his personal struggles, and I can tell you on the list of his personal accomplishments, running a half marathon is far, far down the list. He’s fought some demons bigger than you or I could ever imagine, and won. But the half marathon goes on Facebook. I have a few bodybuilder friends on Facebook, too. Lots of work, lots of discipline (especially around diet—yeesh), but that don’t impress me much. Physical fitness is a funny thing—we look at someone who is fit and we make assumptions about what kind of character they have—that discipline must translate into something else, we think. Oftentimes, it doesn’t. Lots of times, these people will have 580 credit scores or failed marriages or lives in personal turmoil. Conversely, we look at someone who is a fat fuck and we make assumptions about what kind of character they have. You can’t judge a book by its cover.
So what is toughness? I would say that toughness is persevering in the face of some pretty great obstacles. Navy SEALs get all the credit because those obstacles are visible. Let’s carry logs around and simulate drowning and sleep for two hours over the course of a week. And no, I’m not saying I can do that, because I can’t. But Navy SEALs couldn’t do what I do. And they couldn’t do what you do, either. For the average person who is persevering in the face of some pretty great obstacles, those obstacles are invisible. I mentioned mental illness, but poverty is another. Whenever I hear some story about a guy who rides his bike 20 miles to get paid 10 bucks an hour on a Labor Ready job, that is some perseverance right there. Raising children could be another, especially special needs children, though I have no personal experience with that. Working two jobs and going to school at the same time. The point is that toughness comes in all shapes and sizes, and I don’t particularly appreciate being lectured on toughness by some asshole who runs ultramarathons and then gets a book ghostwritten about it, or some admiral who thinks that making your bed every day is the key to success in life.
It's all a matter of priorities. Physical fitness just isn’t that important to a lot of people. Maybe they have other shit to do. Maybe they’re working 18-hour days. Maybe they have a family. Etc. I should add that the reason that Navy SEALs are in such good shape is because it is pretty much their job to be in shape. Even when I was in the Coast Guard, taking two hours at lunch to go to the gym was a perfectly accepted practice. I had vastly more respect for the guys and gals who got up at 330am to work out in the basement of their home in New Jersey so they could be at their desk at 6am on Wall Street. I place a high value on sleep, so that is a choice I would never make. Dwayne Johnson spends a fair amount of time in the gym and eats 700 pounds of cod a year. He has a lot of money riding on it. It doesn’t mean he should be president.
When I look around, I see a lot of tough people. I see a lot of people who are carrying burdens that none of us would be willing to carry. Those are the people who should be writing self-help books. I’ve said this before, but it applies here, too: if you’re going through hell, keep going.
Well written! When my two sons were in their early teens I decided that I wanted to help them learn that they could do hard things. Why? Several reasons.
First, success in life consists of doing hard things. People who always dodge the hard things tend to be losers. Second, I wanted them to have self-confidence - to be willing to try challenging things with the realization that success is not guaranteed, but focused effort tends to give good results. Third, I don't want them to be whiners. Even when we face something that is not of our own choosing, we need to be able to grit our teeth and deal with it.
Of course, it turned out that teaching them that they can do hard things generally meant that I had to do those hard things with them. Week-long backpacking trips in the high Rockies with my older son (who ran cross-country while I worked at a desk), a 50-mile bike ride in the cold rain with my younger son (for his Eagle Scout) are examples of physical challenges.
I also pushed them to take tough classes in high school. I told them that I would rather they get a "C" in a tough AP class than breeze through an easy class with an "A". So they got mostly A's in the tough classes, which surprised them more than it did me, I think.
Both are now in their mid-30s and doing well. I know that both have gone through some tough times. When they came to me I would listen to them, and then ask, "So what are you going to do now?" I may offer suggestions and ideas, and I always encourage them to talk things out, but they understand that their problems are theirs, not mine. I will encourage and help to the extent that I can, but they have to own their challenges. And they do.
Caregivers.