I fired up the furnace this morning for the first time this season. The temperature barely dropped into the thirties overnight, but the gale-force wind howling from the north made it feel like an icebox, at least to me. It was actually 59º in the cottage, but with the wind whistling in the eaves, it felt colder.
The felt temperature outside was in the teens; it was wet, and the wind was gusting over 30 mph. So when Xam took his customary position, staring at me with those big, golden eyes, my first thought was, “I don’t want to go out there, boy. I just want to sit here in the BarcaLounger and drink hot coffee for a while.”
I put him off for a bit, trying to get him to eat his breakfast before the walk, but he’s a Brittany, so he’s not only consistent but persistent. I knew from experience that come hell or high water, he was going to get his morning walk. Today, we got both hell and high water. I dug out the woolies, puff jacket, stocking cap, ski gloves, and goggles to protect my eyes from the wind, and we hit the trail.
We headed south, and I thought it wasn’t so bad. The sun was already up, and if I discounted the wind, it looked like a beautiful morning. But as we turned the corner, I realized it was pretty damn cold, and I was glad I had put on the winter togs, even though we were only in the season of the Beaver Moon, a time of preparation for the winter to come, like testing the furnace.
The dogs didn’t seem to mind the cold. They waded through every mud puddle as I wiped my dripping nose and carefully navigated the soft, wet earth. I considered cutting the morning walk short, but as we picked up speed and I warmed from the inside out, my perception cleared. It was exciting, being out in the elements.
As we walked, I pondered “Doing Hard Things.” When I was young, doing hard things was about intensity: climb a 14’er, ride a Century, or backpack deep into the wilderness. As I’ve gotten older and slowed down, I’ve realized that consistency is more powerful than intensity, and the payoff is an order of magnitude greater. Consistency compounds; intensity doesn’t. Consistency is the ultimate expression of toughness.
Intensity feels good because it’s flashy, and it feeds the ego, while consistency requires a realistic view of life. It forces the question: What can I sustain, even on my worst day? Real toughness is doing the dog walk every day, come hell or high water, rather than a frantic, unsustainable 5-hour bike ride that leads to burnout.
Consistency means listening to your body and adjusting, rather than gritting your teeth and chasing a goal you’ve set, which inevitably leads to injury or mental fatigue. Consistency scales effort down to a baseline so the chain doesn’t break. You deal with the discomfort rather than fighting it. Intensity feels like a constant state of threat. “I missed my morning routine, so the week is ruined; I might as well quit.”
In our fast-paced society, choosing consistency over intensity is the ultimate act of rebellion. It shifts the focus from unsustainable bursts of ego-driven effort to quiet, deeply rooted daily practice. The frantic drive for intensity in a culture obsessed with chasing goals is often mistaken for mental toughness. But look closer, and hyper-intensity is not strength; it’s panic.
“An honest appraisal is all about giving your mind better data to predict with.” ~ Steve Magness
Resilience looks different; toughness isn’t about forcing things through sheer willpower. Consistency is hard and requires showing up every day. Choosing a slow, deliberate daily habit with intentionality—is where real strength is forged. Trading the grind for the quiet, compounding power of consistency.
An intensity mindset treats the body and mind as adversaries to be conquered. When you feel exhausted or overwhelmed, an intentional approach doesn’t mean quitting; it means scaling back. Acknowledge your stress and choose a gentler, adjusted version of your habit to keep the chain unbroken.
Intensity makes you brittle; consistency keeps you resilient. You respond with grace rather than reacting with guilt. You don’t need dogs or distance to build consistency; you just need to “get out there” every day and walk; start where ever you’re at and build a practice (habit). Do it at sunrise to reap an even greater reward.
