Dear Judge,

Remember running the 400m?  Rounding that last corner and feeling like your chest is about to explode, and your legs are weighted down by cinder blocks?  You’ve lost the adrenaline you had at the starting line as you were sizing up the other runners – who’s got it in them, who you’re going to take down. Now that you’re into it, you want to get out of it … but you can’t see the finish line and you just want to die.  

That’s the middle.  The miserable middle.  And the middle of anything just sucks.  

You’re halfway through Officer Candidate School.  You’ve lost your new beginner energy and graduation feels like an eternity away.  

This is the time when people start questioning their choices. Some people want to go back to a time when things were easier, lighter – beers on the dock with friends, impromptu Culvers meet ups, and/or a new tin of Zin in your back pocket while you’re driving around in your truck. (I hope you decide to quit this, by the way.)

Your past is tempting because it promises comfort and safety. Your future is unfamiliar …  and unfamiliar doesn’t always compel us to keep moving forward.  

But here’s the reality about the past – it’s a lie.  When you reflect, you’re only looking at the highlight reel.  Life wasn’t really that good. I mean, yeah, it was good – but it wasn’t epic.  There’s a reason why you’ve always been driven towards hard paths, and it’s not just because you like hard things (like the 400).  It’s because you know that you’re made for more.  That “more” requires you to be gritty.  

Fun fact – and I get to “sneak” my consulting work into this letter ☺ – researcher Angela Duckworth studied West Point candidates to understand who made it and who didn’t. The most predictive characteristic wasn’t intelligence, fitness, or leadership ability. It was grit – passion and sustained persistence toward long-term achievement, with no particular concern for rewards or recognition along the way. Duckworth found that gritty people share four things: genuine interest in what they’re doing, a practice that moves them forward, a purpose connected to their values, and hope.

Hope is key. And it’s not blind optimism. Hope is simply the conviction that a better future is waiting for you … and for those around you.

Now, I’ve got no doubt that you’ll persevere.  You’ve been training for three years for this experience.  But I also know that you’re surrounded by people who are calling into question all of their life choices, or at the very least reminiscing about a simpler time.  Use what you’re leaning into right now to inspire them to hold on, too, one day at a time.  That’s what good leaders do.  They extend their courage to others. 

And what’s worthy of holding on to?  That vision of what it’s going to feel like to hold that Eagle, Globe, and Anchor in your hand after The Crucible, after being called a Marine.

That’s what’s waiting on the other side of the miserable middle.  Keep going.  I love you. Semper Fi!