Ask ten different coaches to define mental toughness, and you’ll probably get ten different answers. Some might call it resiliency—finding a way to keep pushing when everything seems stacked against you. Others may say it’s about conquering fear—stepping into the arena even when your mind is telling you to stay out. A few might equate it to wisdom—knowing yourself and your capabilities through years of trial and error.
Each of these definitions carries weight, and they’re all shaped by experience. For me, mental toughness is a state of mind conditioned by the pursuit of one’s passion. It’s not just about grit or willpower—it’s the byproduct of countless moments where you chose to keep going, even when it wasn’t easy. It’s a combination of traits, each person landing somewhere different on the spectrum depending on the experiences that shaped them.
But here’s where it might surprise you: I think mental toughness is delicate. It’s not bulletproof. It’s more like a flower—you can plant it in good soil and let it bask in the sun, but if you stop watering it daily, it begins to wilt. It needs care, attention, and intentional effort to keep it strong.
For me, that foundation was laid early. I grew up in a strict household where accountability was non-negotiable. My brother and I learned quickly: good or bad, we owned the outcome. In sports, we didn’t need a push—we were wired to work. If we committed to something, we were committing to being the best at it. That meant waking up at 4 AM to run or driving hours for practice. Our parents didn’t just support us—they expected our best and held us to it.
Some of the early training memories make me laugh now. I remember my mom dropping me off on the side of back roads before sunrise so I could run home. Her logic? I’d run faster if I knew I’d get detention for being late to school. If I got home too early, she just picked a farther drop-off spot the next day. My dad? He’d leave for work during the summer and leave a checklist: move this pile of bricks, haul this much dirt. If we didn’t finish, he wouldn’t drive us to practice. Simple as that.
To some, that might seem extreme. And I get it—most parents wouldn’t think of highway runs or sun-soaked brick hauling as standard childhood chores. But for us, it built character. It made us feel tough. It made us feel different. Nobody else was doing that kind of work, and that edge mattered. The struggle? It was good for our souls.
Now, as a strength coach, I see the other side of it. Building mental toughness in athletes today is a different game. The world has changed. Social media puts constant pressure on young athletes—every move is public, every misstep is amplified. Their challenges are different, and so the way we develop toughness has to evolve too.
It’s not always about taking the drill sergeant approach. Mental toughness doesn’t come from being barked at or broken down. Sometimes it’s about helping athletes face fear, learn from failure, and build resilience over time. Sometimes it’s about guiding them to their own wisdom—learning who they are, what they’re capable of, and what they’re willing to fight for.
To me, the core components of mental toughness are just that:
Fear. Wisdom. Resilience.
Fear keeps you humble. Wisdom keeps you grounded. Resilience keeps you going.
And above all, mental toughness is earned—not gifted, not forced. It’s built over time, shaped by experience, and kept alive through intentional work. Like that flower—it needs sunlight, roots, and yes, daily watering.
