I realized something about myself today—something I suspect many others can relate to. Growing up, I had this mindset: if I wasn’t immediately good at something, I gave up quickly. I see this same pattern in my children. Maybe I passed it on to them, or maybe it’s just human nature.
I once read a study that suggested humans are wired to evaluate effort versus reward very quickly. If something doesn’t appear to yield an obvious or immediate benefit, we instinctively move on. It’s a survival mechanism. Wasting energy on fruitless pursuits isn’t a great evolutionary strategy when you need that energy to hunt for food or protect your tribe.
Still, that instinct doesn’t always serve us well in modern life. This “try once and give up” behavior is more common than we realize.
Interestingly, I’ve noticed that young people who grow up in sports often don’t struggle as much with this. Or perhaps the habit has simply been trained out of them. When my daughter first started basketball, she wanted to quit every time she had a bad experience. But after consistently showing up day after day, she became more resilient. Mistakes didn’t bother her as much anymore—she just kept trying.
I’ve seen the same thing in chess. It’s a brutal game for beginners—you lose constantly. Very few people can handle that and still want to keep going. But those who persist long enough to experience their first crushing victory? They often become chess players for life.
This leads me to a behavior pattern I’ve only truly started to understand later in life.
I’ve learned that persistence is necessary to overcome the initial hurdles. “The first cut is the deepest,” as they say. Once you get through the hard part, things do become easier—but only if you stay with it.
That’s true for the things I struggle with. But oddly enough, it’s not always the case for the things I’m naturally good at.
Take sales, for instance. I’ve always had a natural talent for convincing people—whether to hire me, buy from me, or listen to me. Maybe I got that from my grandfather, who sold used cars for a living. That kind of energy has always come naturally to me. And honestly, I’ve tried to downplay it. I never wanted to be seen as just a salesperson, even though there’s nothing wrong with that. But deep down, I know I’m good at it.
And because I’m good at it, I assume success should come easily. So when I go out and try to sell something and it doesn’t work the first or second time, I start panicking. I question everything. Maybe it’s a bad idea. Maybe it’s not going to work.
That reaction? It’s arrogance.
I forget the lesson I should know by now: everything requires repetition.
The first time you try something won’t be the time people notice you. It won’t be the time they buy from you, follow you, subscribe, or support you. It won’t even be the tenth time. It might be the 1,000th time—or the 10,000th.
That’s the uncomfortable truth my ego doesn’t want to accept, even though my rational mind knows it’s true: No matter how talented you are, success only comes after consistent, focused effort over time.
Michael Jordan and Kobe Bryant practiced every single day. That wasn’t a coincidence.
Yes, talent matters. But the gap between someone who’s average and someone who’s gifted is minuscule when compared to the gap between someone who gives up and someone who keeps showing up.
I’d argue that Jordan and Kobe weren’t the greatest because of their talent—but because they practiced more than anyone else. They showed up earlier, stayed later, and bounced back from failure more times than most of us can count.
Even the talented have to put in the work.
Somewhere between your first attempt and your millionth, you’ll find your breakthrough.
So why is it that every time I start something new, I expect the breakthrough immediately—and get discouraged when it doesn’t happen?
Maybe because I still need to learn the lesson I keep forgetting: the 1000th is noticed, not the first.
