Whether you believe we all have a predetermined destiny and came here with full awareness, as far as choosing our circumstances, or some higher power chose them for us—or whether you believe we got a completely random luck-of-the-draw life—one thing is certain.
You were born with a body, brain, genetics, temperament, and certain tendencies.
You are in a meat suit.
It’s a machine.
And your brain is part of the machinery operating it.
The problem is, you didn’t get an owner’s manual.
You didn’t get instructions explaining how to operate this body in the best way for you.
Most of the early part of your life is other people telling you how to operate your machine and how your hardware should work. Parents. Teachers. Friends. Society. Media. Culture. Religion. Coaches. And a whole bunch of other shit.
Most of us spend years absorbing programs before we’re even old enough to ask whether we actually want them.
A lot of people live most of their lives without taking a real look at their internal hardware and asking:
Who installed all these programs?
Are they mine?
Do they serve a good purpose for me?
Is this stuff I even like?
Is this stuff important to me?
And most importantly…
Can I change it if I want to?
Again, most of the early part of your life is other people programming your hardware. Sometimes they’re doing it simply to keep you alive. Sometimes they’re doing their absolute best to teach you how to navigate life using the only operating system they know.
That doesn’t mean they were malicious.
It doesn’t even mean they were wrong.
It just means you inherited some shit before you ever had the opportunity to choose it.
Eventually, you start encountering the same problems in your life over and over again.
You wonder why these things keep happening.
You feel like you’re changing things, but somehow the same outcome keeps showing up.
This is a pivotal point.
Because now you have an opportunity to stop and actually look at your internal hardware.
How does this machine operate?
Where did these programs come from?
Why do I respond this way?
And…
How can I change it?
Remember, you never got a manual.
You wouldn’t buy a complicated piece of technology and never bother learning how to operate it. Most people wouldn’t completely ignore the instructions when building something.
And most people wouldn’t buy a manual transmission and decide the car was broken because they didn’t know how to drive it.
The point is, people often blame the hardware and say it’s broken when they simply haven’t taken the time to learn how to use it.
The world in general loves telling you that you’re broken.
And then selling you the solution.
Create the problem.
Sell the solution.
This is especially true in the fitness and wellness world.
When people are frustrated because they aren’t getting the results they want, there is never a shortage of quick-fix explanations.
Your metabolism is broken.
Your hormones are broken.
Your brain is broken.
Your body is broken.
You need this diet.
This supplement.
This workout.
This procedure.
This guru.
To be clear, there are absolutely times when medical intervention is necessary. Don’t take this as me saying that it isn’t.
I’m talking about something different.
In my experience, a lot of people eventually arrive at some version of:
“I’m not getting the result I want fast enough, and I’m not doing the work to learn about myself and figure out what needs to change, so something must be broken.”
And once you believe you’re broken, the quick-fix solution has a very easy door to walk through.
“You’re broken. You need this.”
Meanwhile, you had an opportunity to learn about your hardware.
You had an opportunity to observe yourself.
You had an opportunity to figure out what was actually happening.
You could have started rebuilding the software to better fit who you are and what you want.
Instead, somebody sold you a new part.
Now I’m going to toe the line here between fantasy world and reality.
There are plenty of times I’m all-in on saying:
“You can change whatever you want in this world and be anything you want.”
And for the most part, I believe that.
But I also like to sprinkle a little realism into this stew I’m crafting up just for taste.
If you’re 5’1”, your odds of making the NBA are going to be significantly lower.
Has anyone done it?
No.
Does that mean it’s impossible?
Well…
A lot of things were impossible until they happened.
Look at Roger Bannister and the four-minute mile. Once he proved it could be done, other people broke the barrier too.
So where does that leave us?
Some things are going to be really fucking hard for you.
Other people may have an advantage you don’t have.
You may have circumstances that make certain goals much more difficult.
You may have experiences from childhood that affected how you developed and how you respond to the world.
That doesn’t mean you’ve reached your final form.
Here’s where I’m going with this:
Your machine was given a unique set of circumstances and constraints.
It’s like you pressed Create a Player in a Madden game and were handed a completely random set of attributes as your starting skill points.
Your genetics, age, injuries, starting point, environment, recovery, and other real-world circumstances create real limitations.
But here’s the thing.
Limitations aren’t necessarily permanent.
You may have one skill level that starts much higher than most people.
That’s a gift.
Maybe you’ve got a super-high ceiling there.
You may also have some skill points that, because of whatever limiting factor, start much lower than average.
That’s a challenge.
Maybe you have a lower ceiling there.
The point is, you can expand what the machine is capable of through training, practice, better inputs, and skill development.
You don’t have to love every piece of hardware you were given.
And it’s not realistic to do that fake, sarcastic:
“I love everything! Everything is so good about me!”
You know the annoying voice I’m talking about.
But you do need to accept your situation.
And acceptance simply means acknowledging reality.
Let me say it again.
You need to accept your situation, but you don’t need to use it as a crutch or a limitation.
Maybe this skill level starts really low.
Through hard work, I can raise it.
Maybe I don’t get it as high as someone else.
But I can definitely improve it.
And I bet if I really believe I can improve it, I may be capable of taking it further than I initially thought.
I might not become the best in the world at this.
But I can improve.
You’ll need to toe the line and pick your battles when it comes to what you accept and what you think you’re capable of.
Training to make the NBA at 40 when you’re under 5’10” may not be the wisest use of your time.
But hey…
If you really believe in it, it sure would be cool if you were the first.
Maybe you can’t go back to MIT if you only made it to junior college and didn’t finish.
But what’s stopping you from becoming as smart as you possibly can and achieving some form of greatness?
Accept your starting point. Find the good in the hardware you were given. Improve the things you don’t like just as much as the things you do like.
The limits are real.
But they’re not always as rigid as you think they are.
Let’s shift gears and get back to learning the system.
Just like the dashboard in your car, your body is constantly sending you signals.
Fatigue.
Hunger.
Pain.
Stress.
Energy.
Mood.
Soreness.
Cravings.
Performance.
And a whole lot more.
Most of the time, these signals are connected to emotions or built-in habits that you’ve practiced so many times you barely notice they’re happening.
That’s where this gets really interesting.
Because those signals can lead to good habits or bad habits.
But before you can change the response, you have to notice the response.
You have to observe yourself.
You have to collect the data.
You have to figure out what the signal actually means and how you’re automatically responding to it.
This is one of the most important skills when it comes to learning yourself.
Only when you start to recognize what the signals are and how you automatically respond to them do you have a chance, in that tiny couple-second window, to try something different.
That’s where you can practice a new habit.
That’s where you can edit the response in real time.
And that’s how you start making changes through repeated effort.
Learn what the machine is trying to tell you so you can learn how to edit the programs controlling your responses.
This leads me into more software talk.
Your brain is full of incredible protective software.
I mentioned earlier that learning your response to the warning lights on your dashboard is extremely important.
A lot of these responses may have originally developed because they served some kind of protective purpose.
Avoidance.
Anger.
When and what you eat.
Procrastination.
Staying small.
People pleasing.
Doing things other people taught you to do.
Protecting your ego.
Staying safe.
Staying comfortable.
And a whole bunch of other responses you’ve practiced over time.
Maybe that program made sense at one point.
Maybe it helped you.
Maybe it kept you safe.
But part of learning yourself is taking an inventory of your hardware and asking:
Does this software still serve me?
Does it move me toward my goals?
Does it fit who I am now?
Does it fit who I want to become?
Because just because something once had a purpose doesn’t mean it still serves you now.
Let’s touch a little more on how your brain locks those programs into an autopilot-type response.
Your brain gets really good at whatever programs you repeatedly practice.
A lot of this programming happens when you’re young and extremely impressionable.
Little kid.
Teenager.
Young adult.
Whether the programs are useful or destructive, you’ve been practicing those responses for a long time.
Maybe they came from you.
Your parents.
Your friends.
Another family member.
School.
Social media.
Television.
Your environment.
Whatever.
So guess what?
It didn’t get that way overnight.
And it isn’t going to change overnight.
It can change faster than you think if you’re intentional and consistent.
But it takes time to rebuild a habit.
BUT IT CAN BE DONE.
The point is simple:
Observe the behavior.
Notice the patterned response.
Think about who you want to be and how you want to respond.
Look for the moments where you get an opportunity to practice something different.
Practice. Repeat. Practice. Repeat.
That’s how you change the program.
Let’s go back to the programming phase for the machine.
Your environment and the information you consume constantly influence what gets your attention and how you see the world.
This is essentially your diet for your brain.
And in today’s society, we’re being bombarded 24/7 with short-form content, social media, reels, the internet, music, videos, television, podcasts, advertising, and whatever else we’re consuming.
What you repeatedly put into your brain matters.
So be intentional with what you’re taking in.
And when you’re trying to change a behavior, be intentional about examining the things that helped create that behavior in the first place.
What are you repeatedly exposing yourself to?
What are you reinforcing?
What do you need to remove?
And what are you going to replace it with?
Because you can’t just uninstall something and leave a giant fucking hole where it used to be.
Sometimes you need new software.
Once you’ve started implementing these new changes and patterns, you need to keep up with your maintenance.
The same way you install new parts into a car and take care of them, you need to maintain the machine you’re going to operate for the rest of your life.
Training.
Movement.
Nutrition.
Sleep.
Recovery.
Taking care of yourself.
These are routine maintenance items.
And trust me, if you neglect maintenance for an extended period of time, eventually something is going to start breaking.
Some things break sooner than others.
Some things you get lucky with.
Some repairs are catastrophic.
Some are minor.
The point is…
Do your maintenance.
And don’t assume that because you fixed something once, you’re done forever.
Before you get ahead of yourself, let me remind you again.
Everyone wants to jump ahead and fix themselves with a new diet, workout, supplement, medical procedure, routine, or another self-help guru.
I swear that’s not me.
Remember, we’re not looking for a quick fix.
Always be aware of the snake-oil salesman.
First, you need to simply observe what’s actually happening.
Understand the problem.
Collect enough information to make an intelligent decision.
But don’t get stuck in analysis paralysis either.
You can’t spend your entire life studying the machine without ever actually turning the damn thing on.
At some point, you have to pick something.
Start.
Collect data.
See what happens.
Learn.
Adjust.
And start learning.
This connects to another piece we’ve already discussed.
The same machine behaves differently in different environments.
What worked before doesn’t necessarily work forever.
Your age changes.
Your family changes.
Your career changes.
Your stress changes.
Your sleep changes.
Your injuries change.
Your responsibilities change.
Your environment changes.
And all of those things can affect how your hardware and your machine are operating.
The principles can remain the same while the application changes.
Maybe you need to tweak a habit.
Change your maintenance schedule.
Change what maintenance means.
Or redefine what you’re even using the hardware for.
That’s adaptability.
And to wrap everything up…
You aren’t a cybernetic organism sent back in time to kill John Connor.
Terminator reference, anyone?
You are more than just the hardware.
Your body is the avatar you navigate this physical world with.
Your mind is the player learning how to use it and navigate with it.
You don’t need to spend your life fighting yourself and believing you’re a broken machine that needs to be fixed.
Get out of the self-pity cycle.
Look at the machine.
Learn how it works.
Learn what the warning lights mean.
Learn which programs are running.
Figure out where they came from.
Figure out which ones still serve you.
And then start practicing the ones that do.
You are capable of so much more than you probably realize.
Learn your body.
Learn your mind.
Learn your patterns.
Understand your limitations.
But don’t carve those limitations into stone.
Challenge yourself.
Train yourself.
Adapt.
Maintain the machine.
And deliberately work with—and improve—what you’ve been given.
You are not your hardware.
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