There is a particular kind of frustration that comes from having been successful at something, only to discover that the next challenge is proving far more difficult than you expected.
You’ve done difficult things before. You’ve worked hard, overcome obstacles, achieved goals, and perhaps even surprised yourself with what you were capable of accomplishing.
You know what success feels like. So why is this next step so frustrating?
Perhaps you’re returning to school, changing careers, starting a business, rebuilding something that didn’t work out, or finally getting around to finishing something you set aside years ago.
You know the destination matters. You understand what achieving it could make possible. You may even have a pretty good idea of what you need to do to get there. But knowing what needs to be done and finding the energy, enthusiasm, or patience to actually do it are two very different things.
Sometimes the problem isn’t that the work is beyond your abilities. It’s that the work is tedious, repetitive, or surprisingly unrewarding. Perhaps you’re dealing with subjects that hold little interest, tasks that seem unnecessarily complicated, or expectations that don’t make much sense.
Somewhere along the way, you begin comparing yourself to the person you used to be. I used to be good at this. Why is this taking me so long? Why can’t I just get on with it?
There’s a certain irony in all this. The very success that should give us confidence can become another source of pressure. We remember what we accomplished before and quietly expect ourselves to do it again, preferably with the same energy, enthusiasm, and results.
But life has a habit of changing the conditions while we’re busy remembering how we used to play the game.
We’re older, perhaps a little wiser, certainly carrying different responsibilities, and sometimes considerably more tired. The goal may still matter just as much, but the journey no longer looks or feels the way we expected.
And here’s something we don’t acknowledge often enough: just because you’ve succeeded before doesn’t mean the next challenge should be easy.
Nor does finding it difficult mean you’ve somehow lost the qualities that made you successful in the first place. Perhaps the real question isn’t why we can’t approach the next challenge the way we approached the last one.
Perhaps it’s how we learn to move forward when the circumstances, the expectations, and even the person undertaking the journey have changed.
Which brings me to a Norwegian explorer named Roald Amundsen. He understood something about preparation, persistence, and the importance of making progress without exhausting the very resources needed to reach the destination.
That raises a question I’ve been thinking about: What would Roald do?
Who Was Roald, and Why Should He Matter to Me?
In December 1911, Norwegian explorer Roald Amundsen and his team became the first people to reach the South Pole.
They faced bitter cold, dangerous terrain, exhaustion, and extraordinary uncertainty. A competing British expedition led by Robert Falcon Scott also reached the Pole, but tragically, none of Scott’s polar party survived the return journey.
There were many reasons for their different outcomes, including preparation, equipment, transportation, and experience. But one lesson associated with Amundsen has particular relevance to the challenges we face today.
It’s called the 20-Mile March, a concept later popularized by authors Jim Collins and Morten T. Hansen.
The principle is simple: make steady, manageable progress. On good days, resist the temptation to push yourself to exhaustion. On difficult days, accomplish what you reasonably can, and recognize that sometimes the wisest decision is to rest.
After all, reaching the South Pole was only half the journey. They still had to get home.
Perhaps success isn’t always about how far we can push ourselves today, but whether we’re leaving ourselves enough to keep going tomorrow.
When Yesterday’s Success Becomes Today’s Burden
There’s a peculiar frustration that comes from struggling with something when you’ve already proven to yourself that you’re capable of doing difficult things.
You remember the confidence, the accomplishments, and perhaps even the ease with which some things once came to you.
Then life happens. Careers change, responsibilities grow, circumstances intervene, and sometimes we simply run out of steam.
When we eventually take on the next challenge, we may discover that we’re not just trying to succeed. We’re also trying to live up to the person we remember being.
And that can be a pretty unforgiving standard.
We forget that the circumstances have changed. We may have different responsibilities, less time, or simply a different perspective on what matters.
Past success should give us confidence in what we’re capable of, not become a measuring stick we use to punish ourselves.
Perhaps the challenge isn’t to become the person we used to be. It’s to discover what the person we’ve become can accomplish.
And who knows? We might even surprise ourselves again.
The Grief of the Journey That Didn’t Happen
Most of us have, at some point, imagined how our lives would unfold.
We expected to finish our education, establish a career, build something meaningful, or reach certain milestones by a particular age, and then life happened.
Opportunities disappeared. Circumstances changed. We made decisions that seemed right at the time and occasionally discovered they weren’t. Sometimes things simply didn’t work out, despite our best efforts.
There’s a particular disappointment in looking back at where we thought we’d be and comparing it with where we find ourselves today. We can become so preoccupied with the time we’ve lost that we overlook what we’ve learned along the way. But here’s the thing: the life we imagined was never a promise. It was a plan made with the information we had at the time.
And plans change.
Amundsen couldn’t navigate Antarctica based on the conditions he wished existed. He had to deal with the conditions in front of him. Perhaps we should give ourselves the same consideration.
We can’t navigate today’s journey using yesterday’s map.
The question isn’t whether we’re where we expected to be. It’s where we want to go from here.
The Boring Miles Nobody Celebrates
Not every mile of a journey offers breathtaking scenery. Some are simply long, repetitive, uncomfortable, and thoroughly unremarkable.
The same can be said for pursuing a degree, building a business, changing careers, or working toward almost anything worthwhile. There are courses we have little interest in, tasks that seem unnecessarily complicated, and requirements whose purpose remains something of a mystery. Perhaps that’s what makes the next challenge so frustrating. We’ve already worked hard to achieve something. We’ve demonstrated our abilities, developed experience, and earned a certain level of confidence.
Now we’re expected to start again, sometimes doing things we thought we’d left behind. It’s tempting to wonder whether all this effort is really necessary.
Sometimes it is. Sometimes it isn’t. And there’s nothing wrong with questioning the difference.
But when the destination still matters, we have to accept that not every part of the journey will be interesting, rewarding, or even particularly satisfying.
We don’t have to enjoy every step to believe the destination is worth reaching.
The trick is learning to get through the boring miles without allowing them to consume all the enthusiasm we have left for the journey ahead.
Motivation Is an Unreliable Travelling Companion
Motivation is wonderful when it shows up. The trouble is it doesn’t always bother.
Some days we wake up ready to conquer the world. Other days, answering an email feels like an unreasonable demand on our time and energy.
Yet we often make the mistake of believing we need to feel motivated before we can accomplish anything.
Amundsen’s approach offers a different perspective. You don’t have to wake up inspired. You don’t have to love what you’re doing. You just have to know what today’s reasonable progress looks like.
That doesn’t mean pushing through exhaustion or ignoring the warning signs of burnout. Sometimes the smartest decision is to rest, reconsider the route, or question whether the destination still matters.
But on those ordinary days when the work simply isn’t appealing, perhaps the question isn’t, “How do I get motivated?”
Perhaps it’s, “What’s a reasonable distance I can travel today, even if I don’t particularly feel like going anywhere?”
Finding Your Own 20-Mile March
Twenty miles might have been a reasonable target for Amundsen, but it would be a terrible starting point for someone who hasn’t walked around the block in six months, and that’s part of the lesson.
Your 20-Mile March isn’t about matching someone else’s pace. It’s about finding a pace that moves you forward without leaving you exhausted or discouraged.
Maybe it’s an hour of studying, finishing an assignment, or tackling the part of a project you’d rather pretend doesn’t exist.
But here’s where the minimum matters.
It’s easy to make progress when things are going well. The real challenge comes on the days when motivation disappears and doing absolutely nothing sounds remarkably appealing.
One day becomes two. Two become three. Before long, weeks have passed, and now you’re facing not just the original task, but the frustration of having stopped. That’s why setting a reasonable minimum matters. Something manageable on a difficult day, but meaningful enough to actually move you forward.
Read and understand two pages. Write one useful paragraph. Solve one problem. Small accomplishments count, particularly when the alternative is doing nothing.
Just because you can do more on a good day doesn’t always mean you should. Today’s enthusiasm shouldn’t come at the expense of tomorrow’s progress. The objective isn’t perfection. It’s establishing a rhythm you can return to, even after a difficult day.
Sometimes the most important miles aren’t the ones that get you the furthest. They’re the ones that keep you from giving up.
What if those weeks have already passed? What if you’ve stopped altogether?
You don’t have to make up for every day you’ve missed before you’re allowed to begin again. Start with one meaningful task today. Not an ambitious plan to catch up on everything, or a promise that this time will be different. Just something you can finish that moves you forward.
Yesterday’s lost time doesn’t have to decide what you accomplish tomorrow.
When Progress Doesn’t Feel Like Progress
There’s something particularly frustrating about working hard and having very little to show for it. You put in the hours, complete the assignments, tackle the difficult problems, and somehow the finish line doesn’t seem any closer.
It’s even worse when you remember a time when things came more easily. You start wondering whether you’ve lost something along the way. Perhaps you’re not as capable as you once were.
But not all progress comes with applause, recognition, or even the satisfaction of a job well done.
Sometimes progress is simply having one less thing standing between you and where you want to go.
That assignment you finally submitted? It’s no longer waiting for you. That difficult subject you’ve struggled through? You’ve learned something you didn’t know before, even if you never want to hear about it again.
Sometimes the progress isn’t immediately obvious. You may have spent an afternoon discovering what doesn’t work. Frustrating? Absolutely. Wasted? Not necessarily.
At the end of each week, take five minutes to write down three things you’ve actually accomplished. Not what you intended to do, or what still needs doing. What you’ve finished, learned, or moved forward.
It’s a simple way to remind yourself that the distance you’ve travelled matters just as much as the distance still ahead.
When the Map Stops Matching the Terrain
There’s a certain comfort in having a plan, particularly one that’s worked before.
You know what to do, how to do it, and roughly how long it should take. Then reality comes along and makes a complete nuisance of itself. The assignment takes twice as long as expected. The approach that once worked beautifully produces disappointing results. And the harder you push, the less progress you seem to make.
It’s tempting to conclude that you’re simply not trying hard enough; but sticking to a goal doesn’t mean stubbornly sticking to a method that isn’t working.
Amundsen understood the importance of preparation, but preparation alone couldn’t eliminate the need to respond to conditions along the way. A destination gives you direction; it doesn’t guarantee that every step of your original plan will make sense.
When something repeatedly isn’t working, ask yourself three questions: Is the goal still worth pursuing? Is my approach actually helping me get there? What could I change that would make the next step more manageable?
Maybe that means asking for help, changing how you study, breaking a task into smaller pieces, or questioning whether a particular requirement is necessary in the first place.
Changing your approach isn’t admitting defeat. Sometimes it’s the most practical way to keep moving.
When Asking for Help Feels Like Going Backward
There’s something uncomfortable about needing help with something you once believed you could handle on your own.
Especially when you’re accustomed to being the person others come to for answers.
You struggle a little longer, try another approach, and convince yourself you’ll figure it out eventually. Sometimes you do. Other times, you’ve simply spent three days solving a problem someone else could have helped you understand in twenty minutes.
Being capable doesn’t mean having to figure everything out alone.
Asking for help isn’t handing someone else responsibility for your journey. It’s recognizing that another person’s knowledge, experience, or perspective might help you get where you’re going.
The next time you’re stuck, identify exactly what you don’t understand and find someone who might help. Ask a specific question rather than expecting them to solve the entire problem. After all, there’s no prize for taking the longest possible route simply to prove you could do it yourself.
Running Someone Else’s Race
It’s remarkable how quickly someone else’s success can make our own progress feel inadequate.
A former classmate finishes their degree. A colleague earns another promotion. Someone half your age seems to be accomplishing twice as much, apparently without breaking a sweat. Meanwhile, you’re celebrating having finally understood something you’ve been struggling with for weeks.
Comparison has a way of making even genuine accomplishments feel disappointingly small.
Someone else’s progress doesn’t diminish yours, and their timetable doesn’t have to become your deadline.
Your circumstances, responsibilities, and challenges aren’t identical to theirs. Neither is the path you’re travelling. When you catch yourself comparing, try a different question: Am I further along than I was a month ago? What can I do this week that will make next month a little easier?
Those answers are considerably more useful than wondering why someone else seems to have everything figured out. Besides, you’re only seeing the parts of their journey they’ve chosen to share.
So, What Would Roald Do?
He probably wouldn’t wait until he felt motivated. He wouldn’t expect every mile to be interesting, and he certainly wouldn’t confuse having a difficult day with being incapable of finishing the journey.
He’d know where he was going, prepare as best he could, and concentrate on making reasonable progress. When something wasn’t working, he’d reconsider his approach rather than blindly pushing harder.
And perhaps that’s the lesson worth taking with us.
You don’t have to feel confident about finishing the entire journey. You just need a realistic plan for making meaningful progress today.
So think about whatever you’ve been struggling to finish. Why did it matter when you started? Does it still matter now? And what’s one useful thing you can accomplish today that will bring you closer?
Not ten things. Not a heroic effort to make up for lost time.
Just one meaningful step, followed by another tomorrow.
Because the goal was never to prove how much difficulty you could endure.
It was to get somewhere worth going.
Paul