I remember thinking, this is going to be really damn hard for him. The climb has a lot of vertical and not much horizontal. It had been five years since I climbed it, and I knew there were only a few paths through the rim rock. We meandered for an extra hour and many extra uphill steps until we found a way through. I made it to the top first to snap pictures of my hunting partners as they crested the climb. Mostly I wanted to document the boy’s first big push uphill on a western hunt. When he reached the top, he told his dad it was the hardest thing he’d ever done. His dad relayed the message to me. 

The boy is only 12 years old. He never complained. He never asked for a break. In fact, even as he struggled up the mountain, we had to pace him, pause him, and remind him to drink water and eat snacks so he wouldn’t burn himself out. If you’d have witnessed it, you would have said, “That’s one tough kid.” And you would have been right. He put one foot in front of the other up a grade many gown men would have balked at. It took an exceptional amount of toughness. I thought about that climb throughout the entire week of hunting, and during the drive back to Pennsylvania from Montana. It made me realize where true toughness comes from. You’ll have the same realization once you learn more about the little boy who made the big climb.

He’s been hunting with his dad and his grandfathers since he started elementary school. Enough time spent squirrel hunting allowed him to graduate to whitetail deer hunting, with a bow and a rifle. He’s since branched out to turkey hunting and duck hunting. The kid plays multiple sports, but all who know him well would tell you that while sports take some of his time, hunting has his heart. So much so that when we got in from the field each day in Montana, he’d put on episodes of MeatEater and watch them until it was time for bed. 

I’ll tell you, he’s also all boy. Often, I pick play fights with him, walking away with a mild regret. No matter what wrestling or martial arts move I wrap him up in, he keeps going forward and never asks for a break. Then he usually lands a punch that makes me wonder how someone so small could hit so hard. I, of course, keep that to myself. The “fight” stops only when his dad sees him getting carried away and says, “Alright, that’s enough.” That’s enough can creep into our own thoughts far sooner than it should. It’s something I help hunters fight against.

Part of my job is teaching people to get more out of themselves. I coordinate mental skills training with the right workouts so that adults can manage the chatter between their ears. It works and it’s helpful, but all the mental skills in the world won’t help a person who’s resigned themselves to giving up. Mental skills are the framing, not the foundation. When we place the little boy, the big climb, and hunting side-by-side, we see what toughness is truly built upon: Love.

He pounded up that mountain because he loves hunting. It was simple and pure. He’s not at the stage of life when he thinks about who he is and who he wants to be, there’s no convoluted calculus in the equation. He loves his dad and he loves hunting. He’d find time with each at the top of the climb. So, he kept his legs pumping.

We’re sold that toughness is about grinding and suffering. That it’s about discipline and discomfort. Part of that’s true. But it’s wrapped in an ego stroking package lacking depth or connection. That’s why so many people who buy into the bullshit don’t end up getting any tougher for all their efforts. They purchase a projection, an identity that doesn’t live inside them. It’s not honest, so it doesn’t work. However, we can “grind” and even suffer when our actions are fueled by love. I saw it throughout my childhood.

I mostly grew up in a single parent household. My mom worked a job she hated for 20 years to keep the lights on and food in my belly. When a lesser person would have given up, she showed up the best she could each morning, no matter what was going on outside of work—and there was always something going on. That’s toughness. She found it and she embodied it because she didn’t want me to go without. That kind of sacrifice, that kind of grit is impossible without love.

We find the depth of our capabilities when we’re doing something we love or sacrificing for someone we love. While we can learn the skills of mental resilience and expose ourselves to discomfort, the best way to find out how tough we are is by standing in the face of something we love.