There’s a button for everything. To turn on the heat, to order food, to open a door without touching it. We have apps to fall asleep, to wake up gently, to meditate without thinking too much. We live wrapped in a digital comforter that shields us from the world’s chill.
And it’s great, don’t get me wrong: we wouldn’t go back for anything. But in all this warmth, in this smart cocoon, there’s a tiny risk. The risk of growing soft.
When the body gets too relaxed
The body—and the mind—adapts. If you take discomfort away, it stops evolving. If you cradle it too much, it dozes off. And when the climb comes (a real one, not the metaphorical kind from an Instagram caption), you find yourself without strength, breath, or tools.
That’s why sport—and in a way, personal growth too—is a game in reverse: instead of avoiding discomfort, you go looking for it.
Choosing discomfort
You wake up before dawn, while the world is still asleep and the only sound is your feet on the pavement. You lace up your shoes even though it’s pouring outside. You step into a cold shower, knowing the shiver will do more good than any espresso.
That’s what some call the “discomfort choice.” And in a world that constantly suggests the easiest option, it’s almost a revolutionary act.
Seneca knew it
Seneca—yes, that Roman philosopher everyone quotes but hardly anyone actually reads—used to recommend living “like a poor man” now and then, even if you were wealthy. To train the soul. To remember that you can endure anything, except habit.
You’ll find the same idea in Stoicism, in Zen Buddhism, and in silent meditation retreats.
And in the most enlightened coaches—the ones who don’t just ask you to shave seconds off your mile pace, but to figure out who you are when you’re tired, dirty, vulnerable.
The climb that changes you
Take a hill run. You could skip it, sure. Take the easier route, stay in your “comfort zone.” But it’s right there, on the incline, that something happens. Your body rebels, your mind grumbles, and then a new version of you pushes through: stronger, more aware, more alive.
People who train regularly know it. But so does anyone who, even without running, chooses a small, voluntary discomfort now and then. Silencing notifications for an hour. Walking instead of driving. Falling asleep without scrolling until 2 AM. Saying no when yes would be easier.
A small effort a day
They’re tiny gestures, but revealing. They remind you that you have a choice. And that in choosing effort, you’ll find your freedom.
It’s not masochism, nor glorifying suffering. It’s just a way to stay alive, alert, curious. To stop comfort from becoming a cage.
Because yes, comfort feels nice. But sometimes, to grow, you need to feel a little cold. A little hunger. A little strain.
Go get cold
Today you could start with something simple:
A cold shower. A walk in the rain. A hill climb. A counterintuitive choice.
Something you don’t like—but that, in its own way, makes you better.
Comfort only becomes a trap if you stay in it too long.
Every now and then, go get cold.
Even if it’s just to remind yourself you’re alive.