From Proving to Inviting: Redefining Effort

For most of my life, effort has been synonymous with proving. Proving I can go above and beyond, proving that if I push myself to the absolute limit, others will be inspired to move. I believed that demonstrating extreme effort; grinding, sacrificing, outworking everyone else would be the thing that lit a fire in others. 

I thought if they saw me push hard enough, they’d believe in their own capacity to do the same.

But I’m starting to see that it doesn’t work that way.

Effort, when taken to an extreme, stops being relatable. Instead of inspiring movement, it often creates distance. People see the grind, the commitment, the intensity, and instead of feeling empowered, they think, That’s great for him, but that’s not me. It becomes something to admire rather than something to engage in.

And admiration doesn’t create movement.

I first noticed this in the gym, in the way people responded to my training. When I went all-in, pushing myself to the absolute brink, I expected others to follow. But more often than not, they stood back, watching. They were impressed, sure. But they weren’t moved. They weren’t inspired to step forward. They were stuck in comparison, feeling the gap between where they were and where I was.

I saw it in my races, too. Running ultra-marathons, finishing twice at the 74 mile Georgia Death Race, pushing my limits beyond what most people consider possible. I thought these things would serve as proof that anyone could push further than they thought. But instead, the reaction was often the opposite. People would say, That’s crazy, I could never do that, You’re built different.

And the more I heard it, the more I realized I had been going about it all wrong. I didn’t want to prove that I’m different…

The way to create movement isn’t by proving what’s possible. It’s done by inviting people into the experience. It’s not about showing effort but about sharing energy. Instead of standing at the finish line saying, Look what I did!, the real magic is in standing beside someone and saying, Come with me—let’s move together.

This realization forces me to reframe what effort even means.

I’ve long tied effort to struggle, to pushing through, to going above and beyond in a way that can be seen, measured, and admired. But what if effort isn’t about force? What if it’s about engagement? What if it’s about being fully present in the process, moving with curiosity rather than compulsion?

Because when I look at the times I’ve felt most alive in movement, it wasn’t because I was grinding harder than everyone else. It was because I was playing, I was enjoying the camaraderie, and I was moving for the sake of movement, freely exploring my own potential with curiosity, rather than dragging myself forward to prove a point.

When kids play, they don’t think about proving anything. They just run, jump, explore. They don’t need discipline to move, they just want to. They’re drawn into the moment by joy, not by obligation. Their effort is effortless because it comes from a place of energy rather than force.

That’s the shift I’ve needed to make.

Instead of effort being about showing people how hard I’m working, it needs to be about showing people how much I love this. Instead of pushing to inspire, I need to play to invite.

This doesn’t mean I stop striving or stop doing big things. Running the Georgia Death Race, training for the Boston Marathon, and expanding my gym; are part of my own play. But the energy I want to put out into the world isn’t look how hard I’m working but look how much I love this.

Because joy is contagious. And when people see joy in motion, they don’t compare themselves to it, they want to be part of it.

That’s the real challenge for me now: how do I embody this shift, not just in my training but in my life?

How do I step out of the mindset that effort needs to be visible struggle and instead lean into the idea that effort can be natural engagement? How do I bring that into my coaching, my gym, my interactions with people? How do I model movement in a way that doesn’t separate me from others but draws them in?

The answer, I think, is in the way I feel when I move. When I’m playing, rather than proving. When I’m leading from curiosity, rather than discipline. When my energy comes from a place of natural excitement, not obligation.

The world doesn’t need more proof of what’s possible. It needs invitations to step into what’s possible. It needs people who aren’t just grinding their way through life, but loving the movement, loving the exploration, loving the journey.

That’s what I want to step into. That’s the shift I want to make.

Because the goal isn’t to prove.

The goal is to play.