A reader recently sent me a viral video. It features a heavily muscled and perpetually shirtless fitness influencer named Ashton Hall demonstrating what he calls “the morning routine that changed my life.”
It starts at 3:52 a.m. with Hall flexing in the mirror as he pulls off a piece of tape covering his mouth (presumably placed the night before to promote nose breathing during sleep).
At 3:54 a.m., he brushes his teeth and gargles water from a fancy bottle.
At 4:00 a.m., he walks onto his balcony to do push-ups. Then he performs some standing meditation.
At 4:40 a.m., Hall journals. At 4:55, he listens to sermons on his phone while continuing to drink from the same water bottle, and at 5:46, he pours the remaining water into a bowl of ice and plunges his face into it.
And so on…
The video continues until 9:26 a.m., when Hall finally eats breakfast. It’s been five and a half hours since he woke up, and now he’s finally ready to start his day.
This Ashton Hall video is obviously extreme. But it’s a good example of a popular type of online content that presents overly-complex routines that promise to deliver you a desirable reward, be it a superhero’s body or a supervillain’s bank account.
Many commentators like to make fun of these influencers, and I get it, as these earnest efforts are out of step with an online culture that tends toward sardonic detachment. (One of the top comments on the Hall video dryly quips: “The last time I stepped on the balcony to do my morning pushups, I noticed I don’t have a balcony. Broke three ribs.”)
But I’ve become worried that a deeper issue lurks. I’m less concerned about what makes these influencers cringe than I am about what makes them popular. This genre seems to work, in part, because the instructions it provides are hard enough that you can believe them capable of delivering real rewards, and yet are also sufficiently tractable that you can imagine yourself following them – a sweet spot that’s compulsively consumable.
This formula essentially hijacks our natural ambition, shifting our attention from the hard, ambiguous, but ultimately satisfying efforts required for true accomplishment toward overwrought prescriptions that waste our time. I’m particularly worried about young people (a popular audience of this content) who might be diverted into these clickbait rabbit holes at a time when they should be seeking genuine mentorship instead.
To help make sense of these issues, I recently sat down to talk with bestselling writer Brad Stulberg, whose fantastic new book, The Way of Excellence: A Guide to True Greatness and Deep Satisfaction in a Chaotic World, comes out tomorrow.
Stulberg is an expert in the field of (actual, measurable) performance. His new book (which 9-time NBA Champion Steve Kerr described as capturing “a lot of what I believe as a coach”) makes the case that embracing a commitment to “genuine excellence” can deliver more meaning than the types of performative efforts popular online.
Here are three useful things I learned from Stulberg, each set up by a quote from his book:
→ “There is no greater illusion than thinking the accomplishment of some goal will change your life.” Genuine excellence is more about craft than rewards. You need to find meaning in the act of trying to improve at something. This satisfaction is more lasting than any isolated achievement.
→ “Caring is cool.” You have to care deeply about what you’re pursuing, meaning it should align with your values and help make you a better person. This is quite different from, say, trying to develop biceps purely to impress girls or buying a fancy car to make your friends jealous.
→ “True discipline is not a chest-thumping, hype-speech giving, performative act of toughness.” Excellence works better when you disconnect. Don’t brag about your accomplishments online. Don’t look for brief hits of hype from emotionally manipulative videos. Instead, take care of your business with a quiet, inward satisfaction.
If you’re worried about the internet hijacking your ambition (or the ambition of someone you care about), then keep these ideas in mind. It’s not enough to dismiss influencers like Ashton Hall; you need to replace what they’re offering with a more compelling alternative. Stulberg’s writing, in my opinion, points the way to one such alternative.
“The real reward is that you become a better version of yourself,” he summarizes toward the end of his book. This might not be as exciting as sticking your face in ice water before sunrise. But it sounds about right to me.
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It may go without saying that I highly recommend The Way of Excellence. It’s a must-read book that offers a path toward the discipline of mastery, competence, and mattering. Consider buying a copy today. And if you do, fill out this form to obtain some bonus material from Stulberg, including a video master class on the topic and a list of related reading.
Cal – like others i use LLM’s for recipes, tips, ways to make my life easier and save time. At a friends recommendation I put in a request for it to “diagnose” me and tell me based on all my chats to tell me what im like. it basically said i think too much and dont execute enough. Then your podcast dropped – made me realize sometimes you just need to timeblock and get things done. i think if your job is to be an influencer, you need to wake up, film videos, edit them and post them and get money from it – thats their job. Bryan Johnson’s job (after selling Venmo) is to figure out how to live forever, so he is essentially doing his job. I would say there should be a distinction between doing a job and just consumption. you have talked a lot about this in the past as well.
Be wary of believing an LLM’s “diagnosis” of you…
Where is genuine mentorship found?
Approach someone you know and respect, perhaps someone you work with or from your community. Ask if you could buy them a cup of coffee and hear how they did something that you particularly admire. Most people will say yes. This will naturally create a back and forth conversation that might lead to something more formal, like a weekly coffee. You can then put some structure around it and focus on a couple of key goals.
There are fantastic mentors all around us. Few are to be found on YouTube or TikTok.
Try it out and good luck.
This connects to something I’ve thought about (young) men who go to the gym and optimize their workout routines and diets.
Of course, a certain amount of exercise is good for your health, so is taking care of your diet. And wanting to look good is not something I frown upon, although there should be limits to this pursuit. But most of these men push far beyond this. I guess that a lot of this comes down to a lack of another more meaningful pursuit.
Working out and keeping a strict diet requires effort and discipling, but it’s also straightforward and controllable – given you have no injuries and the proper guidance.
It also has little impact on the world besides said men looking good (and even that can be argued).
I’m part of the post-9/11 cohort you’re describing, and I’ve spent the last ~15 years moving across roles and companies with a strong “design my own life first” mindset.
Growing up, I saw a very different model. My father built deep, long-term relationships inside his firm – colleagues who became family, and friendships that started as professional relationships and still exist decades later. That always felt like a missing piece for me.
I now find myself in a sales manager role with an innovative organization and feeling increasingly motivated to do the opposite of what my generation was trained to do: master my craft, pursue excellence, and build real relationships with colleagues and clients. I’m finding meaning within the work and the organization again.
Would love to hear you explore how professionals can intentionally reclaim that “lost play” on a future episode without sliding back into unhealthy loyalty or self-sacrifice.
Cal –
I thought the section where you discussed your father’s work experience (deep relationships with coworkers developed over decades) in contrast to those of millenials and Gen Z’s missed a critical point.
I am a SME with a PhD and work on a research team for one of the largest US corporations (Top 10 by mkt cap). My management is in the UK, my “juniors” are all in India, and all meetings happen over zoom, regardless of whether some of us are collocated in the same cities.
Decades of corporate cost cutting, offshoring, and managerial aloofness have led to an environment where we are encouraged to sit side-by-side at our computer terminals with headsets on all day, zooming around the world and not talking to each other in the office. Senior management does not take juniors to lunch or coffee; business travel is only for them to visit their teams in lower cost of living regions, layoffs are whispered and people disappear without goodbyes… it’s all very dystopian.
So I think telling millenials to “put more effort into in their work craft and professional social connections” (a poor paraphrase of your recommendation) misses the point entirely. We work in a digital hellscape of cost cutting, social isolation, and toxic management – and again, I am a highly paid professional at the top firm in my field, which makes double digit billions in profits annually. I can’t imagine things are better elsewhere in the private sector, though from personal experience European firms are a little more humane.
I believe the only workplaces insulated from this trend are government offices (very little offshoring) and universities.