Scott Sonnon: Born to Fail - Made to Succeed

Happy New Decade: 10,000 Hours in 10 Years

Finishing 10,000 hours of training in my 10 year goal today, I felt that I needed to share my reflections on the journey…

Many of you know my story, and have read why I got started in martial arts and tactical fitness. I had amassed a great deal of guidance and research from great coaches around the world by the time 1999 rolled around. And having kept a training journal since the late 1980’s, I knew the value in journaling experience: it allowed me to have a wide-angle lens on the impact even subtle changes to my behaviors had upon my lifestyle performance.

So, after returning from 1999 World Police Sambo Championships in Lithuania, I sat down to map out how I intended to develop physically over the next decade. Considering my lifestyle at the time, I estimated that even if I only trained a minimum per day, I was putting in 2 hours / day. I could make certain that never fell under two and three quarter hours daily. And I would journal each day: food, training, lessons, experiences, sensations, feelings, the gamut.

So, when the year 2000 approached, I vowed to log 10,000 hours of training over the next 10 years. I underestimated how much work that would involve… especially considering that due to my international travel and training, I would often log 8-14 hour days. But aside from the height (in years or cataloging) of the experience, I underestimated the depth and width of it.

Journaling gave me a thread of constancy to cling through my radical lifestyle changes in 2000-2001; shifts in my relationships, alliances and vocational responsibilities. Now, 10 years after my launch into this overly-ambitious goal, I close this chapter in the life of my 30s - and reflect upon the adventure having logged thousands of hours plumbing the depths of my potential.

This morning, as the final minutes of 9,999 hours ticked away, I felt underwhelmed by the mundane sensation, as if this were just Wednesday… which it was. This feeling lingers still. Perhaps prematurely evaluating the 10 year quest, I suspect that this feeling of normalcy about abnormal dedication precisely reflects the result of this goal. Having the honor of knowing many great athletes personally, I believe my goal unveiled one of their unique virtues: that is, dedication involves moving from one hour to the next through what others would deem boring, repetitive and inane, but without losing passion for each repetition.

Certainly, there were times when I didn’t want to train. But I always knew that it wasn’t that I had to train, but rather that I got to train: training is a privilege as much as a duty. Training is an amusement park in the early morning: like a cockerspaniel in piddling excitement of its joys, I investigated the innards of my movement with exuberant awe; a wonderment which carried through my workouts from eyes open to shut; always lamenting a workouts end, as a little child would sleepily miss being able to continue running from ride to ride at the carnival…

Passion for each repetition to be better than the previous: this is the magic in the mundane, which I believe encapsulates the odyssey of great athletes. And I believe that this lengthy goal allowed me to taste the virtue of those so much better than me.

For many cultures, prayer lay central to their lives. For me, my communion with the divine demanded physical and mental survival. Training was how I worshiped. Caring for this body-temple. So, training became the thread of constancy throughout my 3rd decade of life.

Logging hours every day showed me that even though I had no home as a child, no safe place, no sanctuary… personal development was my home. I could always improve my situation, if I made myself aware; if I turned on the lights in the dank, dark places of my character - the nooks reluctantly illuminated. They can’t stay concealed if you journal, because you’ve held yourself accountable. Your training must be transparent, if you want to avoid mind-numbing monotony. Skimming the surface of your success feels like itching a deep wound: it only irritates you and makes you crave for the depth of transformation.

So after thousands of hours, I learned to surrender what my ego wants to hide. I think that’s what makes great athletes so coachable: they just want to get better, because sucking sucks worse than silently dealing with inadequacy and mediocrity. My blog here echoes that transparency, in a no-bullshit manner of sharing my experiences in a way that makes the ego-inflated feel uncomfortable.

With years logged, you get slammed in the face with your addictions: the usual suspects sex, caffeine, alcohol, sugars, simple carbs, sleep, but also lesser known felons: procrastination, infatuation, self-righteousness, blame, envy, entitlement, and yes ego. Consistently logging daily hours is like turning the light on in the basement: you don’t realize how murky and stagnant it is until lit up for all the world to see.

You choose your addictions. I certainly have replaced the old destructive ones with new generative ones; though they have the tendency to become just as destructive. Those of you who know me, know that I can be tightly-coiled… only able to relax in the post-fatigue euphoria of a job well-done. I know now that in the next decade, I need to chill a bit on how structured I’ve made my life. I’ve lived a decade of task-focused achievement, which has definitely served me well in abundance and growth. But life must be more than just a series of achievements.

As I reflect upon these 10,000 hours of exploration, groups of people lay bracketed along the timeline. Chronicling one tenth of my life, I look back on my brackets; experiences shared with friends, and the battles had with enemies. I loved it all, really. Like a reading a fine book and appreciating the villains as fondly as the heroes. In my next ten years, I intend to stop periodically, and plant a memory billboard along the way… and express my gratitude to my team around me, my family.

Two months ago in Israel, I paused my teammate Alberto Gallazzi and pulled him aside in the midst of a massive seminar with one of their country’s most elite counter-terrorist units. I said, “brother, look around you. Remember this moment… we got to do this.” He looked at me and said, in his swaggering Italian style, “We rock, fratello.” I’ll never forget.

I wish I had done that so many times more along the way: expressed my gratitude for the company I held, and my appreciation for the opportunities I had been given while they were happening. But fears, stress, ego, so many factors, made me plunge right through them; much as I did mindlessly plodding through a field of virgin snow behind the Winter Palace in Russia training with the Spetsnaz just to get to the other side and finish the drill. Would I have only paused to appreciate that extraordinary event! Watching the videos of my old training, I see how I had squandered the moment, or at least not relished in it.

I don’t want to waste another hour just because I want to tick off some numerical achievement. I want to savor each succulent memory while it’s being created. My 40s have now begun. And I now consider what I would like to achieve as my next ten year goal for 2020.

With that said, I want to take this moment to say thank you to my teammates and students, near and far. Thanks for the time we walk together on the journey. I hope that you have all ten decades to explore your goals, and share your experiences with all of us along your way.

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Scott Sonnon

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