Set higher standards for you own performance than anyone around you, and it won’t matter whether you have a tough boss or an easy one. It won’t matter whether the competition is pushing you hard, because you’ll be competing with yourself.  

~ Rick Pitino

Pinino’s words echo a universal truth: the fiercest competition is often internal, not external.

There is a Japanese word, Ganbaru (眼張る), which means to persevere, continue, and do your best. Its core is steadfast determination; the art of stretching yourself. Yet, its tone can shift quickly—encouragement in one moment, admonishment in the next.

In Japan, the ganbaru spirit drives people in everyday life. The nuances and usage of the word can vary, with the most basic conceptual translation of encouragement being “Do your best,” “Go for it,” or “Break a leg!” However, the tone and circumstance can quickly turn it from motivation to reprimand when used forcefully. While most of the time it is benign and positive, at other times it can be insulting, offensive, and destructive.

Overcoming obstacles and never stopping until a goal is achieved are essential in Japan. It is more than a word; it is a concept ingrained within the culture. Hours after Hiroshima was devastated, efforts toward rebuilding began. Japan’s history is threaded with stories of ganburu: earthquakes, tsunamis, and collective endurance that shape a national identity.

The concept intrigued me, and I wondered whether this relentless drive, beautiful in one context and brutal in another, might intersect with the pressures found in corporate Japan, and whether this has contributed to the high suicide rates in Corporate Japan.

Can you have too much prodding and never giving up? Can pushing yourself or another cross the line become detrimental?

When are we pushing too much, or when are we doing too little? When is enough enough? Where is the balance?

I saw echoes of this balance in my own life, especially when working with horses. I devised the Three-ask rule to help me gauge the horse’s character and mindset; we would trot up hills during stamina training. When the horse asked to stop, I encouraged them to continue. Whether they continued for a few steps or several miles, I waited for the second ask. And again encouraged them on. Only at the third ask did I allow them to walk. This simple rule revealed their physical condition, their mindset, and their spirit. It also mirrored something essential in us: how we test our limits without betraying them.

My training goal was to stretch their limits without exceeding them. I failed to understand the balance if they finished the training injured or were too exhausted to continue. Once pushed beyond its limits, trust fractures—a truth as relevant to humans as it is to animals.

Yet, when is it too much?

Committing ourselves fully to a task and seeing it through to the end is one thing; sticking with a project or situation that is a dead end out of fear, habit, or identity is another. Persistence becomes self-betrayal when the effort no longer nourishes us.

When we move through the world exhausted, propping ourselves up out of obligation rather than desire, and then feel no elation or relief after completing the task, it is a sign that we have crossed the threshold from growth to depletion.

Chronic self-sacrifice erodes well-being. Our constraints reveal our truth. Our 100% will never look identical to anyone else’s.

Often, that one extra push is the difference between succeeding and failing. Yet, success takes effort and work. To stretch ourselves is part of growth. It is a factor contributing to excellence.

Unmasking our limits and limitations is paramount to us as individuals and to society as a whole. So open your eyes widely, focus on the end goal, and know where your boundaries lie. 

If you are giving your 100%, you are doing what you can. Use the Three-ask rule for yourself: pause, listen, and discern whether the Third ask means “stop” or “breathe”. Growth happens one step at a time, and sometimes the next step is rest.

 

Working hard becomes a habit, a serious kind of fun. You get self-satisfaction from pushing yourself to the limit, knowing that all the effort is going to pay off.

~ Mary Lou Retton