Never Ring the Bell

7-40 Challenge | Round 4, Day 10


I’m reading Admiral McRaven’s Make Your Bed this week. In Navy SEAL training, there’s a brass bell. If you want to quit, you ring it. You’re done. No more cold water, no more impossible runs, no more being pushed past what you thought you could take.

McRaven’s message: if you want to change the world, never ring the bell.


My bell doesn’t look like that.

There’s no brass bell in my living room. Nobody’s watching to see if I ring it. There’s no ceremony to my quitting — no moment where everyone knows I stopped.

My bell is when I stop doing the habits.

It’s the morning I skip Bible study because I’m running late. It’s the day I don’t track my calories because I already know I went over. It’s the walk I don’t take, the book I don’t open, the blog post I decide can wait until tomorrow. One day becomes two. Two becomes a week. And by the time I notice, the structure I built is already eroding and I barely heard it happen.

That’s what makes the ordinary bell harder than McRaven’s. His bell is loud. Mine is silent. His is a single dramatic decision. Mine is a hundred tiny ones, each one so small it doesn’t feel like quitting. It just feels like a day off.


I’ve rung my bell before. Not this year — but I know exactly what it sounds like. In 2022, I lost significant weight, stopped doing what got me there, and the habits dissolved so quietly I didn’t realize they were gone until the weight was back.

That’s why I built the 7-40 Challenge the way I did. Not as a goal with an endpoint, but as a rhythm that doesn’t stop. The habits are the structure. The structure is what keeps the bell out of reach. As long as I’m doing the seven things — even imperfectly, even six out of seven on a rough day — I haven’t rung it.


Day 5 of this round, I hit the wall. Six out of seven habits. No creative work. In bed early. That was a bad day. It wasn’t the bell. The bell would have been Day 6 looking the same. And Day 7. And Day 8. Until I stopped counting altogether.

Day 6, I came back. That’s the difference.


McRaven’s bell is dramatic. Mine is ordinary. But the commitment is the same — you decide, every single day, that you’re not done yet.

Headfirst

7-40 Challenge | Round 4, Day 9


I started reading Admiral McRaven’s Make Your Bed today while mowing the yard. Chapter 6 is called “Dare Greatly.” It’s about the slide for life in SEAL training — the obstacle where going headfirst is faster but terrifying, and most people go feet first because it feels safer.

I know exactly what my version of feet first looks like. Keep creating. Keep writing blog posts. Keep building things in private. Keep doing the comfortable parts of this challenge and never venture into the hard part — which is telling people about what I’ve built and asking them to care.


The thing I’m most afraid of is making a marketing plan and sticking to it. Not because I don’t know how to talk to people. Not because the work isn’t good. Because somewhere deep down, I don’t want to look like I’m asking for help. I don’t want people to think I’ve got my hand out. Promotion feels like begging, and I’ve had a chip on my shoulder my whole adult life about wanting to be taken seriously.

That’s not irrational. It’s pride. And it’s been in the way for a long time.


I asked myself two questions this week.

What’s the worst thing that happens if I go headfirst and it doesn’t work? I still have my day job. I still have my family and my home. The worst case is a little egg on my face and a recovery. That doesn’t sound all that bad.

What’s the worst thing that happens if I stay safe? Then I’m an impostor. I built all of this — two novels, 144 days of habits, a business plan, a framework that works — and I never let anyone see it. That’s worse than rejection. That’s hiding.

And I’m done hiding.


The funny thing is, I’ve gone headfirst before. I went headfirst into my relationship with my wife because I knew exactly what I wanted and I didn’t care what anyone else thought. I went headfirst into my master’s degree. I went headfirst into every career move that mattered.

The creative work and the business — I turned those into some magical unicorn that required a level of courage I supposedly didn’t have. But they’re not magic. People do this every day. And here I am, stuck having a hard time getting over myself.


Thirty-three days left in Round 4. Time to go headfirst.

Every Test Is a Milestone

7-40 Challenge | Round 4, Day 8


I had my yearly cancer checkup this week. Blood work came back exactly where it should be. Screening was clean. The doctor was pleased.

It doesn’t matter how much time goes by. It always feels good to get those results back. I believe firmly in my heart that this is never coming back. But every clear test is another milestone — another confirmation that I’m still here and still doing what I’m supposed to be doing.

I don’t get as nervous at test time as I used to. But it still means something.


What it gives me is perspective. The kind you can’t manufacture and wouldn’t wish on anyone, but once you have it, it doesn’t leave.

We are not promised tomorrow. And knowing that — really knowing it, not as a greeting card but as something you’ve stared down twice — changes the way you walk into every day. It makes gratitude less of a habit and more of a reflex. It makes wasted time feel heavier than it used to.


I’m still here. And I don’t intend to waste it.

Week 1

7-40 Challenge | Round 4, Day 7


Round 4’s first week is in the books. Here’s what it looked like.

Day 1, I locked the priorities for the round. Two targets: get ready to sit my CDMP exam and get Phase Defiant in front of more people.

Day 2, I finished a book, started another, and published two blog posts.

Day 3, I drove from Oklahoma City to Dallas with a list of questions and a voice recorder. Two and a half hours of talking produced 18,000 words of raw material — business strategy, financial planning, a distribution roadmap, a seven-part writing series framework, and a rebuilt essay. Five documents came out of one car ride.

Day 4, I published a post and drafted another one while fighting a headache.

Day 5, I hit the wall. Six out of seven habits. No creative work. In bed early. It happens.

Day 6, I punched back. Full day. Every habit. Gym with my son.

Day 7, everything done. Holiday weekend ahead.


One rough day out of seven. The system held. The habits didn’t break — they bent for a day and came right back.

That’s what Week 1 looks like when the question isn’t “can I keep going” but “how do I build something with what I’ve already proven I can do.”

Six more weeks in Round 4. We’re just getting started.

No Guilt in the Ice Cream

7-40 Challenge | Round 4, Day 6


Yesterday was rough. I hit the wall. Six out of seven habits, no creative work, no Substack, in bed early. It happens.

But two days like that don’t get to happen in a row.


This weekend is Memorial Day. My goal is to enjoy myself. Eat some good barbecue. Have a bowl of homemade ice cream — maybe two. Spend time with my family that is so incredibly precious that no calorie count is worth missing it.

I’m not giving myself a blank check. I’m not doubling my calorie goal. I’m saying there’s no guilt in the ice cream. There’s no guilt in choosing to be present with the people I love over tracking every number for three days.

Bible study continues. Gratitude continues. Walking continues. The floor doesn’t move. But the ceiling gets a little breathing room for a weekend, and when Tuesday comes, everything tightens back down.


Happy Memorial Day. The 7-40 Challenge goes on.