The Smart Way Isn’t Soft: A Response to “The Smart Way Is STILL the Hard Way”

When I wrote “When the Hard Way Isn’t the Smart Way”, I didn’t expect it to make waves. I was simply trying to articulate something I’ve felt for a while: that many endurance spaces have become more about image than intention. That somewhere along the way, “doing hard things” became a brand, and in the process, it lost its meaning.

So when Spartan released a newsletter shortly after titled “The Smart Way Is STILL the Hard Way”, I couldn’t help but feel like it was a direct response.

And maybe it was. Maybe it wasn’t. Either way, I welcome the conversation.

Because here’s the truth: This isn’t about who can suffer harder. It’s about why we’re suffering in the first place.

The Cost of Pain Without Purpose in Endurance Culture

Hardship without direction is not preparation. It is performance, not purpose-driven endurance.

I’ve lived in that pain cave. I’ve built my name, my story, and my personal growth through brutal events, long nights, busted knees, and bitter finishes. And I’m grateful for those experiences.

But I’ve also watched far too many people destroy themselves in search of identity. I’ve seen leaders preach suffering while neglecting their people. I’ve seen communities fracture because toughness became a gatekeeping tool instead of a shared value.

And I’ve seen purpose get replaced by branding.

There is nothing wrong with hard things. I still believe in them. I design them. I host them. I live them.

But I believe in them with intention.

Not to prove something. Not to sell something. Not to create a cult of personality around who can bleed the most.

We Don’t Need More Pain. We Need More Purpose.

The idea that “the smart way is still the hard way” sounds good on the surface. It nods to grit. It feels Stoic. But let’s be careful not to conflate resilience with self-inflicted suffering.

Our ancestors didn’t cross mountains because it made them stronger. They did it because it was the only way to survive. That is the kind of hardship that builds legacy.

Today, we get to choose our suffering. That’s a privilege. But it comes with responsibility.

Are we using these events to evolve? To heal? To grow? Or are we just repeating the same brutal patterns because they make us feel worthy?

My Take Is Simple:

• Doing hard things is good.
• Doing hard things for the sake of being hard is not.
• Doing hard things with intention is everything.

This conversation isn’t about calling anyone out. It’s about calling us in.

Back to our purpose. Back to what made these events matter. Back to the magic that happens not when we collapse at the finish line, but when we rise with clarity about who we’ve become.

I’ll keep building events that challenge people. But I’ll also keep asking why. Because I believe the future of this community doesn’t live in how hard we suffer. It lives in how well we grow.

Endurance events, when done with intention, can be life-changing. Without that purpose, they risk becoming ego-driven theater rather than examples of purpose-driven endurance.

If you haven’t asked yourself why you’re doing this lately, now is the time. Look within, and ask yourself if your path reflects purpose-driven endurance.