Gentle or Juggernaut? My (Mostly) Fool-Proof Guide to Discipline
How I Learned To Stop Procrastinating and Love Push-Ups and Sticky Notes
Quick back-story: a few days ago I asked Instagram, "If you could crack open my brain and steal one thing, what would it be?" (Pro tip: always crowd-source your content—saves you from pretending you had an original idea.) Someone fired back:
"I personally struggle with discipline—doing things even when I don't feel like it and pressing on when it's hard. How do you acknowledge your personal struggles and still follow through? Apply this to fitness, booking gigs, social media, and, oh yeah… keeping the love life healthy."
Challenge accepted. And because my first attempt at answering was sabotaged by rogue AirPods and traffic noise. I owe you an answer that doesn't sound like I'm broadcasting from the inside of a blender.
The Two Voices Living in My Head
When I rewind my biggest wins—and my most face-planty failures—I notice two distinct internal commentators:
1. The Juggernaut – picture a drill sergeant hopped up on double espresso.
2. The Gentle One – basically Mr. Rogers with a clipboard.
Whichever voice dominated at the time usually determined whether I pushed through or tapped out.
Meet the Juggernaut
This voice barks, "Stop being a wimp and just do the push-ups!" It's aggressive, loud, and oddly effective for lifelong athletes or anyone coached by somebody who communicated exclusively in ALL CAPS.
If that style fires you up—great. Harness it. Bonus points if you have a buddy who'll trash-talk you into greatness.
And Then There's the Gentle One
Same goal, softer script: "Hey champ, rough day? How about ten push-ups. Just ten. Then we'll see." Nine times out of ten I end up doing the full hundred anyway, because once you're on the floor you may as well finish.
If harsh self-talk shuts you down, retire the sergeant and let Mr. Rogers take the mic.
Minimum Viable Discipline
Here's the dirty secret: consistency beats intensity—every time. My old plan? Go to the gym for an hour, seven days a week, lift Thor's hammer, sprint home, repeat. Result? Three heroic sessions, one pulled muscle, and a six-month sabbatical filled with donuts and self-loathing.
Current plan? 100 push-ups and 100 air squats a day. Zero equipment, zero excuses—can do it jet-lagged, kid-wrangling, or stark naked in a hotel room (don't ask).
Because the floor travels with me, I rarely miss. Momentum > motivation.
Two Questions That Unstick Me Every Time
1. What would this look like if it were stupid-easy?
• Push-ups instead of barbell snatches.
• Sticky-note heart on my wife's wallet instead of a 14-stanza sonnet.
2. How can I make it enjoyable?
• Cue a hype playlist.
• Bribe myself with cold brew—whatever works.
Answer those two, and resistance melts faster than ice cream in Phoenix.
Applying the Formula
Fitness
• Minimum: bodyweight circuit.
• Voice: Juggernaut on days I need a kick; Gentle the rest.
• Enjoyment hack: Podcasts + burpees = weirdly satisfying.
Career & Bookings
• Minimum: one email or DM pitch per week.
• Voice: Gentle (rejection stings less when I'm nice to myself).
• Enjoyment hack: Keep a "wins" spreadsheet; every reply gets confetti emoji.
Social Media
• Minimum: one piece of content, even if it's a 15-second selfie rant.
• Voice: Juggernaut ("Post the damn thing, perfectionist!").
• Enjoyment hack: Batch-film, schedule and forget.
Love Life
• Minimum: daily "How can I support you today?"
• Voice: Gentle, always.
• Enjoyment hack: Surprise coffee delivery > overpriced roses.
(Yes, asking your partner what they need does shift a little homework onto them. But it beats the alternative: psychic guess-work that ends in, "You should have known I wanted tacos.")
When to Wave the White Flag—for a Day
Some days the tank is bone-dry. I declare a strategic timeout and aim to increase the gap between those days. Progress isn't about never missing—it's about missing less often.
Remember: you've survived 100% of your worst days so far. Evidence suggests you're pretty resilient.
Final Pep Talk
1. Audit your highlight reel. Note which voice—Juggernaut or Gentle—was the MVP.
2. Set the bar so low you can't trip over it.
3. Layer on fun like sprinkles on a donut.
4. Rinse. Repeat. Reflect.
Do that and discipline morphs from "soul-crushing grind" to "slightly challenging habit," which, trust me, is a massive upgrade.
Now go do your ten push-ups—or a hundred. Either way, future-you is already slow-clapping.