Raw Steel

Photo: Murph, 2023.

Tomorrow, thousands of people will do the workout “Murph”.

Some will do it for fitness. Some for the challenge. Some because their gym programmed it. Some for all three.

But the workout was never really about running, squats, push-ups, and pull-ups.

Memorial Day isn’t about a long weekend, burgers, or sales banners hanging in storefront windows.

It’s about remembering people who gave up every future version of themselves so others could keep living theirs.

That’s hard to comprehend when you really sit with it.

And no, a workout doesn’t compare to war. It shouldn’t. That’s not the point.

The point is that voluntary hardship reminds us to be grateful for the comfort we have.

Running when you’re tired. Picking yourself up for another rep. Finishing something difficult when your body wants to stop.

There’s value in that.

Not because suffering makes you special.

But because discipline builds perspective.

You’re building to carry weight:

For your family.

For your responsibilities.

For your mission.

For the people around you.

The way men like Alan P. Mead built.

So today, remember why we do hard things.

Remember the fallen.

Remember why we build.

And keep building.

Most people don’t even notice graveyards.

They’re just a blur of stones behind a fence. Another patch of land between errands and distractions.

But I see them.

I feel them.

Every time I pass one, I think of an uncomfortable truth:

The clock is ticking.

The Cold Truth

Every man buried in that ground thought he had more time.

More reps to hit. More love to give. More truth to speak. More life to live.

But now?

They’re names in stone. Dates chiseled into granite. Bones beneath the earth.

Some of them wasted it. Some of them used it. But none of them got a second chance.

You’re Not Dead Yet

That’s what the graveyard reminds me.

I’m not in there yet. You’re not in there yet.

We’ve still got breath in our lungs. Weight to move. Things to build.

But the reaper doesn’t make appointments. He doesn’t care about your plans. He’s coming.

So what are you waiting for?

The “right time”? The “perfect setup”? Some magical day when you “finally feel ready”?

Wake up.

You’ve already been given the greatest gift a man can have: Time.

You still have some time.

This Is the Moment

If you’re reading this, it means you’re still above the dirt.

And that means you still have a choice.

You can play small. Play scared. Waste more time. Let weakness keep winning.

Or you can lock in, grab the wheel, press the accelerator, and GO.

Build your body. Build your mind. Build your systems. Build your legacy.

Brick by brick.

Because one day, that graveyard will be your address. And when that day comes, the only thing that’ll matter is what you built.

Bottom Line

As soon as you can, go by a graveyard.

Maybe stop and sit for a bit. Look at all the headstones. Think about the people there.

Let it slap you in the face. Let it shake the softness out of you. Let it beat the procrastination out of you.

Let it remind you:

You are not immortal.

But your work can outlive you.

Your impact can outlive you.

Your legacy can outlive you.

You’re not dead yet.

And that’s your warning.

Go build something that survives you.