I’m not saying I lack discipline, but if David Goggins is the gold standard, then I’m more like a participation ribbon. You know, the kind they hand out to everyone so no one’s feelings get hurt. Whenever I watch one of his videos, I’m torn between standing up, doing 500 burpees, and… quietly closing YouTube, snuggling under a blanket, and Googling “How to increase motivation without actually doing anything.”
If you don’t know who David Goggins is, I’m guessing you’ve been living under a rock—while Goggins is out running marathons on top of it. He’s a former Navy SEAL, ultra-endurance athlete, and motivational speaker. His whole schtick is pushing the limits of physical and mental pain, and making everyone else feel like a loaf of bread in the process.
This man wakes up at 4 a.m., not because he has to, but because he wants to. I wake up at 4 a.m. by accident sometimes, roll over, and pat myself on the back for not checking my email. Goggins? He’s probably outside in sub-zero temperatures yelling at himself for being too warm. “What are you, a teddy bear? This is nothing!” I can almost hear him saying.
The Cookie Jar vs. My Cookie Dough Life
One of his key concepts is the “Cookie Jar” — a mental strategy where you take a memory of overcoming adversity and use it to fuel yourself through difficult situations. When Goggins needs to push through another mile (or 50), he reaches into his metaphorical Cookie Jar and pulls out a moment where he crushed his limitations. I, on the other hand, have a literal cookie jar that I pull from. Often. Especially when I need to mentally prepare for Epb season.
While Goggins is out there smashing through 100-mile ultra-marathons, I’m crushing my goal of binge-watching every season of “The Office” for the fourth time. He keeps a log of every single workout, tracking his improvement down to the millisecond. I keep a log of when Netflix asks, “Are you still watching?” and respond with a defiant, “Yes, yes I am.” (I like to think of it as mental toughness training.)
The Voice in My Head vs. Goggins’ Inner Drill Sergeant
Goggins talks a lot about silencing the “inner voice” that tells you to quit. That voice, he argues, is your greatest enemy. My inner voice is less of a fierce adversary and more of a well-meaning friend. It says things like, “Hey, maybe you should take a break?” and “You worked out last month, good job!” If Goggins’ inner voice is a drill sergeant, mine’s a yoga instructor who keeps telling me to embrace my “true self,” which happens to enjoy Oreos in bed.
Goggins, however, doesn’t let his “inner voice” have a say. He calls it the “b**** voice” and tells it to shut up and keep pushing. I tried adopting that mindset once. But when I told my inner voice to stop complaining during a particularly grueling cardio session, it just sat down, ordered takeout, and suggested I start a Netflix documentary on stoicism instead.
Why I Need Goggins… from a Distance
Despite how easy it is to poke fun at his intensity, I do have to admit Goggins is a beast. He’s like the human embodiment of pure willpower, wrapped in a bulletproof mindset, dipped in motor oil for good measure. Every time I hear him say “Stay hard,” I contemplate my life choices. Then, I grab a donut and pretend he’s talking to someone else. (Why is it always me he’s yelling at in those motivational clips?)
The truth is, most of us won’t ever have Goggins’ level of discipline. But that’s okay. The world needs people like him to remind the rest of us that our “impossible” is actually very possible, as long as we’re willing to fight for it. If he didn’t exist, I’d never know how lazy I am, and honestly, I appreciate the reality check—even if it’s uncomfortable.
Closing Thoughts: Can I Get a Discount on Discipline?
So, will I ever “stay hard” like Goggins? Probably not. But hey, at least I’m staying semi-firm. Maybe that’s my level. My goal is to stay about as tough as a firm avocado. Goggins might look at me and say I’m soft, but avocados have their place too. I mean, have you ever had a taco without guacamole?
In the end, I’m not looking to become David Goggins. (Because, let’s be honest, I value my sleep way too much.) But I can take a few pages from his playbook and start taking myself just a bit more seriously. Maybe, next time my inner voice tells me to quit, I’ll stay in the gym for an extra five minutes. That’s progress. And hey, if Goggins can go from overweight and depressed to ultra-marathoner, I can go from “semi-regular-gym goer” to, well, “regular gym-goer.” Or, just maybe, wake up a little earlier.
But only on Tuesdays. And on the full moon.