Most things do not fail at the start; they fail quietly in the middle.

The beginning has adrenaline and the ending has applause. The middle has neither, just month fourteen, the same spreadsheet, the same slow numbers, and nobody clapping for you at all.

Endurance is not dramatic. It is showing up on the day it feels pointless, shrinking the goal to something you can genuinely do, and refusing to make permanent decisions in a temporary mood.

Shorten the horizon. Not five years, ninety days, then another ninety. The middle becomes survivable when you stop trying to see the whole of it at once.