Commitment:
Sometimes you just have to jump
If you are new, this is the third in an 8-post series. Last week, I introduced the first of seven ‘C’s in a framework I have developed over the years. You can catch up here:

If you also read my other Substack, RTFU, then you have seen this quote, but it is so awesome that it bears repeating. I found it copied onto a 3x5 card in the box where I keep 3x5 cards full of awesome quotes. (If you don’t also read RTFU and are nonplussed by the occasional 4-letter word, check it out.)
This quote is from the book Once a Runner by John L. Parker Jr. Even if you are not a runner, you should read it.
The quote provides the best definition of commitment I can imagine:
“What was the secret, they wanted to know; in a thousand different ways, they wanted to know the secret. And not one of them was prepared, truly prepared to believe that it had not so much to do with chemicals and zippy mental tricks as with that most unprofound and sometimes heart-rending process of removing, molecule by molecule, the very tough rubber that comprised the bottoms of his training shoes. The trial of miles; miles of trials.”
The secret is commitment to the strategic goal you gained clarity on last week.
Clarity gives you the azimuth to walk. Commitment gets you moving and keeps you moving through the fog when the little devil on your shoulder whispers that you are going the wrong way, or that you’ll never make it to your destination, or that you should just let someone else take point and fall in line behind them, following blindly.
It’s the second ‘C’ for a reason. Without it, Clarity is a beautiful motivational poster of the life you’ll never live.
Commitment is not about how you feel. It’s a binding agreement you make with yourself and enforce daily—especially when you don’t feel like it. Even more so when you don’t feel like it.
In the Marines, we didn’t wait for motivation; we operated on orders and binding verbal contracts: Don’t be Light, Late, or Last. Complete this Task Under these Conditions, to this Standard, or don’t show up. You can build the same thing to take back control of your life and Walk Point.
Here’s an execution suggestion: Every morning, before you brush your teeth, face the mirror. Take an oath. Say your Strategic Objective out loud. Not a dream. Not a wish. A single sentence that reminds you where you are going:
“I am going to _____________ by ______________, so that I will ________________.”
Then take a moment to reflect on the next Operational Objective in your campaign plan, and the three tactical actions that move you towards the objective by sundown. Not fifteen. Three. You can write them on a Post-it note and stick them to the mirror if it helps. Build your day around them. Everything else is noise to be denied or delegated.
You know that friction will show up. It always does—Murphy’s law, the fog of war.
This is where a lesser man or woman might stop swinging the machete and move over to the well-worn trail. Write the day off and forget their mirror commitment.
Not you. You remember what Commitment actually means: you can deviate from the route without changing the mission. You can adjust timelines, cut a lesser task, and keep moving. That’s not weakness, that’s professional flexibility.
Then at day’s end, before you brush your teeth again, take a hard look at yourself in the same mirror and ask:
How did I do?
Where did I kick ass?
Where did I fall short? (If you have high standards, you will fall short most days. That’s OK. Did you remove rubber molecules from the bottom of the shoe?)
Why did I fall short? (Did you get off azimuth, take a wrong turn, follow the easy path?)
What’s my course correction? (One rule or resource you’ll install tomorrow.)
That’s it. Mirror Oath in the morning, Mirror AAR at night.
This is a truism I learned from a gentleman named Lanny Bassham:
If you keep taking the oath and committing to your strategic goal every morning, you will either achieve the goal or you will get tired of lying to yourself and give up.
If you start to feel lost, go back to the map and regain Clarity.
A few traps to avoid:
Public promises without private systems. Posting intentions can feel like progress. It’s not. Consider keeping your Strategic Goal to yourself.
Overcommitting to prove a point. Commitment isn’t masochism; it’s precision. Three tactical actions, executed daily, beat twenty started and abandoned. Keep the main thing the main thing.
Letting feelings Walk Point. Feelings get a vote, not a veto. The contract decides.
You’ve broken promises to yourself before. So have I. So has everyone.
You’ve tried before and failed before. Good. Try harder, fail in a new way. Learn from it, find a way to fight through it.
Just as on any patrol, there will be obstacles. There will be ambushes and enemy contact.
It’s not getting off azimuth that kills you. It’s not getting back on.
It’s not the enemy contact, it’s how you react to it and what you learn from it.
The fastest way to get back on azimuth is through small tactical actions executed daily. The Trial of Miles and the Miles of Trials. That’s how you get better at getting better: not by inflating your identity, but by stacking proof until your identity has no choice but to catch up.
Execution
Mirror Oath (AM, 60 seconds): Say your Strategic Objective aloud. ID the days 3 tactical actions.
Tripwires: Pre-load two if–then rules. “If I miss the gym, then I do 20 minutes of calisthenics.” “If I get pulled into meetings, then I’ll move Tactical Action C to tomorrow and make sure to execute A&B today.”
Evening Mirror AAR (PM, 5 minutes): Mission / Results / Cause / Correction.
Weekly Recommit: Sunday night, review the mission to reinforce Clarity and Re-Commit to your Strategic Goal.
Clarity is like the binoculars you used to identify the Strategic Goal in the far distance. Commitment keeps your compass pointed towards it despite the obstacles in your path or the enemy contact along the way. Commitment keeps you Walking Point—every day, in small, undeniable ways.
Look in the mirror. Say the words. Keep your promise.
Until next week, keep Walking Point,
John
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Brilliant! Thank you.