We all say we want to be stronger, more disciplined, more capable. But here’s the truth: most people only rise when they have to.

Theodore Roosevelt understood this better than most. Before he became president, he was a sickly child who chose to outwork his weakness. He became a rancher, soldier, boxer, and leader—not because life was easy, but because challenge gave him reason to rise. He once said:

“If there is no war, you don’t get a great general.”

This isn’t about war. It’s about what calls us forward—and why waiting for “perfect timing” may be exactly what’s holding you back.

You know this feeling. The burn sets in, your muscles scream, and that little voice in your head starts whispering, “Maybe that’s enough for today.” It happens in the gym, on a tough run, in the middle of learning something new. That moment when everything in you wants to stop. But deep down, you already know—that’s the moment that matters most.

Those last few reps? That’s where growth happens.

“Everyone has a plan until they get hit in the face” - Mike Tyson.

It’s a brutal truth, whether you're in the boxing ring, on the battlefield, or trying to stick to a training routine.

We love the comfort of a well-laid plan, but the moment reality throws a punch—be it an injury, a work deadline, or an unexpected life event—that plan can crumble.

What separates those who succeed from those who flounder isn’t the ability to predict every obstacle, but the ability to adapt without losing sight of the mission.

This is where Commander’s Intent comes in.

Abraham Wald changed things by shifting the military’s focus from where the returning planes had been hit to where they hadn’t been hit. Initially, military analysts examined planes that made it back from missions, noticing bullet holes concentrated in the wings, fuselage, and tail. Their instinct was to reinforce those areas, assuming that’s where the aircraft needed more protection.

Wald, however, pointed out a crucial flaw: they were only analyzing surviving planes. The aircraft that had been shot down—the ones that never returned—weren’t part of the dataset. The reason the returning planes had damage in specific areas was that hits in those locations weren’t fatal. The real vulnerabilities were in the places without bullet holes on the surviving planes, because when those areas were hit, the planes didn’t come back.

His recommendation? Reinforce the parts of the aircraft that showed little or no damage on surviving planes—such as the engines and cockpit—because those were the spots where damage was likely fatal. This insight led to better armor placement and ultimately saved countless lives.

This same flawed thinking—focusing only on visible successes while ignoring unseen failures—is what fuels survivorship bias in weight loss and health advice. We look at the “successful” cases but often fail to account for the people who followed the same plan and didn’t succeed.