It’s My Body, and I Will Rest if I Want To: Lessons from 75 Hard

I decided to kick off the new year with a bold challenge: 75 Hard. If you’re unfamiliar with it, 75 Hard is a rigorous mental toughness program with strict rules for 75 days: two 45-minute workouts a day (one outdoors), a gallon of water, a daily progress photo, 10 pages of reading, and sticking to a diet of choice—no cheats, no alcohol. I started 75 Hard with all the energy and determination I could muster. It was January, the start of a fresh year, and like many people, I was driven by the excitement of setting ambitious goals. For the first few weeks, I was unstoppable, checking off each item on the list like clockwork. I was feeling strong, focused, and confident—two workouts a day? No problem. A gallon of water? Bring it on. I was convinced I could tackle anything.

But as the days went on, something interesting started happening. My body, initially thrilled by the challenge, began to feel worn down. Some mornings, I’d wake up sore and tired, but I pushed myself through the workouts anyway because the program’s mantra was about resilience and grit. “This is mental toughness,” I kept telling myself. I tried to ignore the nagging feeling that my body was asking for a break. It was around day 30 when I hit my first real roadblock. I remember waking up with an ache in my knee, not unbearable, but persistent. I could’ve taken it easy on myself that day, but the program rules were strict—no skipping. So I went outside, gritted my teeth, and walked in the cold January air. Every step felt like a battle between my determination to finish the challenge and my body’s quiet plea for rest. As the days passed, the challenge felt less like self-improvement and more like punishment. I began to realize something that, deep down, I’d known all along but hadn’t wanted to admit: my body didn’t need more challenges—it needed respect and care. Instead of listening to its needs, I’d been ignoring them in favor of a rigid set of rules. I was pushing through discomfort, not to build resilience, but because I felt I had to finish what I’d started.

One day, after yet another exhausting double workout, I finally decided to listen. I still wanted to complete the challenge, but I had to make it sustainable. So, I started adjusting the intensity of my workouts, focusing on low-impact exercises some days and resting sore muscles when I needed to. I still did my two workouts, but one might be a gentle walk or a stretching session, something that respected my body’s limits. I also started paying attention to how I felt after drinking so much water; if I was feeling too full or uncomfortable, I allowed myself to adjust slightly rather than rigidly sticking to a gallon every day. In those small adjustments, I felt a shift—a sense of peace with myself that I hadn’t felt since day one. Listening to my body didn’t mean I was failing the program; it meant I was honoring it in a way that felt authentic and sustainable. I was learning that wellness wasn’t about rigid rules or pushing through every ounce of discomfort. Real resilience, I realized, is knowing when to push and when to pause. It’s trusting that my body has wisdom of its own, something no program or set of rules can replace.

By the time I finished 75 Hard, I had completed each day, but I’d done it on my own terms. I learned to balance challenge with self-respect, resilience with self-care. The structure had pushed me, yes, but my body had guided me through, showing me when I needed to listen, adapt, and let go of perfection.

Looking back, the real accomplishment wasn’t just finishing the program; it was finding a way to tune into myself and honor my needs. I’d started January thinking I could power through anything, but I ended up learning that true strength is about more than willpower. It’s about working with my body, not against it. And that’s a lesson that will carry me forward, long after any challenge ends.