There’s a quote that’s been orbiting my brain like a persistent satellite for months now. It’s from Jerzy Gregorek, a former Olympic weightlifter: “Hard choices, easy life. Easy choices, hard life.”
At first glance, it seems almost too simple, doesn’t it? But the longer I sit with these words, the more I realize they contain a universe of truth that I—and maybe you too—have been both embracing and avoiding in equal measure.
The Comfortable Quicksand
Last Tuesday morning, my alarm went off at 5:30 AM. I had promised myself the night before that I would get up and fit in a workout before my day started. My body, however, had other ideas. As I lay there, warm and comfortable, my brain started its negotiation process:
“You worked really hard yesterday.”
“One missed workout won’t matter.”
“You could use the extra sleep.”
Before I knew it, I had hit snooze three times and missed my window for working out. I chose the easy option—more sleep—and felt a nagging sense of disappointment with myself for the rest of the day. My relationship with the snooze button is basically a long-term committed relationship at this point—more stable than some marriages I know.
This isn’t a story about workout discipline; it’s about the seductive nature of easy choices and the way they can slowly sink us into a kind of comfortable quicksand. The further in we go, the harder it becomes to pull ourselves out.
The Dad Factor
As fathers, our choices carry extra weight. I don’t mean to add pressure, but it’s a reality I’ve come to accept. My seven-year-old son watches me like a hawk studies its prey. When I choose the easy path—whether it’s ordering takeout instead of cooking a healthy meal, skipping family time to scroll mindlessly on my phone, or avoiding a difficult conversation with my partner—I’m setting a template for life that he’s absorbing, pixel by pixel.
Last month, I overheard him tell his friend, “My dad says if something’s hard, you should probably do it.” I had to laugh—I don’t remember explicitly saying those words, but apparently, he’d been watching during those moments when I forced myself to make the harder choice. Kids: nature’s most effective accountability partners. They’re like tiny surveillance cameras with opinions and the uncanny ability to quote you at the most embarrassing moments possible.
The Daily Hard Choice Inventory
Recently, I’ve started what I call my “Hard Choice Inventory”—a mental checklist of moments each day when I actively chose the more difficult option:
- Having the awkward feedback conversation with a team member instead of letting underperformance slide
- Apologizing to my daughter for losing my patience, even though admitting I was wrong made me squirm
- Putting down my phone to fully engage with my son’s lengthy explanation of his Minecraft world
- Cooking a proper dinner after a exhausting day when ordering pizza would have been so much easier
What I’ve noticed is that each hard choice seems to strengthen a muscle that makes the next hard choice a little less daunting. It’s like compound interest for character—small, difficult decisions made consistently over time yield remarkable returns.
The Seduction of Later
One of the most insidious forms of easy choice-making is the “I’ll do it later” syndrome. I’m an Olympic-level procrastinator when it comes to certain tasks. Installing the electric dog fence? I pushed it off for three months. The result? The ground froze so I couldn’t install it and I had to take the dogs out every morning in the freezing cold. I’ve become so skilled at procrastination that I’m considering adding it to my LinkedIn profile as a core competency. “Expert level ability to convince self that tomorrow is definitely the optimal time for action.”
The same applies to our growth as men and fathers. How often have I told myself that I’ll start being more patient tomorrow? That I’ll begin that important health habit next week? That I’ll have that heart-to-heart with my 12 year old daughter after “things calm down”?
The hard choice is almost always to do it now—to lean into discomfort immediately rather than postponing it. Because let’s be honest: “later” is just another word for “never” dressed up in more hopeful clothing.
The Counterintuitive Math
Here’s the strange math of Gregorek’s philosophy: momentary discomfort + consistent hard choices = expanded comfort over time.
It reminds me of my friends Carley and Eric, who were both climbing career ladders when they made the hard choice to step away from their comfortable jobs and move to South Korea for several years—a decision met with plenty of raised eyebrows. When they eventually returned to the States and resumed similar career paths, something still didn’t feel right. They made another challenging decision: prioritizing the life they truly wanted over what society expected. They relocated to Hawaii with their children, building a life centered around family time and personal values rather than professional prestige. These difficult choices—walking away from career momentum and weathering uncertainty—ultimately created the kind of freedom and fulfillment that a “safer” path never could have.
I’m trying to apply this same principle to my parenting. The hard choice is to be consistent with boundaries, to put in the effort to really listen and connect, and to model the values I hope my children will embrace. The easy choice would be to let screens babysit my kids while I zone out, to avoid difficult conversations, or to prioritize my convenience over their development.
The Resistance Training of Life
In weightlifting, muscles grow stronger through resistance. Remove the resistance, and growth stops. I think Gregorek, being a weightlifter, understood this principle extends beyond the gym into every aspect of life.
When I avoid resistance—difficult conversations, challenging work projects, personal health disciplines—I’m essentially choosing to remain weak in those areas. Each avoidance is like skipping leg day in the gym of life. Eventually, those neglected muscles atrophy to the point where even small challenges become overwhelming.
A few weeks ago, my boss re-assigned me to work on a small construction project with a co-worker that had been stalled due to some communication problems. This was a very small job and one that didn’t need two project managers. My instinct was there was something else going on, but my boss was not telling me. I decided to talk to my boss about it. It was easily one of the most uncomfortable conversations I’ve had this year. My hands were actually sweating as I dialed his number. The easy choice would have been to avoid the conversation or just give in to keep the peace. But I knew that would only perpetuate unhealthy patterns for both of us.
The conversation was as difficult as I expected, but in its aftermath, I felt a curious sense of lightness. By choosing the hard path—honesty, boundaries, temporary discomfort—I had learned the real reason two people were being assigned and was able to assure my boss I could handle the issues on my own.
The Hard Choice Handbook
So how do we practically embrace this philosophy of “hard choices, easy life”? I’m no expert—just a fellow traveler on this road—but here are some approaches that have been helping me:
- The Five-Second Rule: When faced with a hard choice, I count down from five and then move immediately into action before my brain can talk me out of it. 5-4-3-2-1, then get out of bed. 5-4-3-2-1, then start the difficult conversation.
- The Future Self Consultation: I ask myself, “What would my future self thank me for doing right now?” This creates helpful distance from immediate desires.
- The Hard Choice Morning: I try to tackle at least one difficult task before 9 AM. This creates momentum that carries throughout the day.
- The Discomfort Diary: I keep track of times I choose discomfort and note the positive outcomes. This helps reinforce the connection between hard choices and better results.
- The Values Check-In: When facing a choice between easy and hard paths, I pause to reflect on my core values as a father and man. I ask, “Which option better aligns with the person I want to be?” This creates clarity when my immediate comfort is at odds with my deeper principles.
The Path Forward
I’m still very much a work in progress. Just yesterday, I chose frozen chicken nuggets over cooking a healthy meal. I skipped reading with my daughter because I was “too tired.” I avoided a workout because I “didn’t feel like it.”
But I’m learning that the path toward becoming a better man and father isn’t about perfection—it’s about the direction of travel. Am I making more hard choices today than I was a month ago? Am I becoming more aware of when I’m choosing the easy path to my long-term detriment?
Progress, not perfection, is the goal. And perhaps recognizing the easy choices for what they are—temporary relief that often leads to long-term pain—is half the battle.
As Gregorek’s wisdom suggests, the hard path isn’t really about making life harder. It’s about frontloading the difficulty so that what follows becomes easier. It’s about building a life where integrity, health, strong relationships, and inner peace become the new default setting.
I don’t know about you, but that sounds like exactly the kind of life I want to model for my children. And if getting there means putting the easy away and embracing the hard a little more each day, then that’s a trade I’m increasingly willing to make.
After all, we’re not raising children—we’re raising future adults. And the greatest gift we can give them might just be the example of a father who wasn’t afraid to choose the harder, better path.
The Focused Fool Newsletter – Growing as Men. Leading as Fathers.
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