What David Goggins Taught Me About Purpose

My Client Hates David Goggins

Toward the end of a recent coaching session, a client of mine — wildly successful in his own right — brought up David Goggins with something close to disgust.

“I don’t believe in that David Goggins shit. It’s just hustle culture all over again — push yourself until you break. I used to think suffering was the only way to succeed. But now? I’ve got kids. Responsibilities. Life isn’t just go, go, go. You have to pivot, adapt. That guy’s crazy.”

I heard him out.

And honestly, a lot of what he said made sense.

There’s a line between dedication and delusion — and Goggins walks that line, barefoot.

Some board-certified psychologists would probably say he crossed it a long time ago.

But if you’re focused on what David is doing, you’re missing the point.

I don’t see Goggins as a model of what the human body can do.

I see him as a reminder of how far the human spirit can go.

He’s running his race — and I’m not talking about the marathons.

Once he realized he didn’t have to stay as the 300-pound dyslexic kid on the couch anymore, he committed to seeing how far he could go.

And that was his race.

And now he’s running it.

Some people are running theirs.

Most people?

They’re sitting in the stands, critiquing other people’s form.

Sure, Goggins might be running himself into self-abuse — but if ninety-nine people are pulling life in one direction — numbing out, giving up, making peace with mediocrity — then the few trying to drag it somewhere better might have to pull so hard it looks a little crazy sometimes.

So, this is what I said to my client:

“I would rather over-index toward obsession than over-index toward apathy. I don’t think everybody should be David Goggins. I don’t think everybody can be David Goggins. But when you see how far David Goggins can go, it makes you realize how far away you are from your limit.”

“If every single person around you is 300 pounds and overweight, then being 265 feels like you’re doing great. Until you realize there’s a version of you that’s 190 and moves like water — and suddenly, ‘doing great’ looks like settling.”

Obsession

He paused.

Then nodded.

Then pivoted.

“Yeah, but that’s the thing — I am obsessed. Just differently. I’m not running a marathon, I’m building wealth. I’m trying to be more like Warren Buffet than David Goggins. I’m thinking about what my business looks like in 2035. That’s my obsession.”

Got him.

I countered:

“And to somebody else, when you’re knee-deep forecasting into the future, you look like how David Goggins running looks to you.”

Immediately, he burst out laughing.

“That’s what my girlfriend says. She’s like, ‘Why are you always thinking about the future, why can’t you just focus on today?’”

Because that’s how he’s wired.

He’s a visionary.

He’s obsessed with the future.

That obsession made him a multi-millionaire by 30 — and now, we’re working together to channel it into what comes next.

There’s nothing wrong with his obsession, just like there’s nothing wrong with Goggins’.

It’s not better or worse.

Just different.

And just because someone else’s obsession doesn’t make sense to you doesn’t mean obsession itself is wrong.

It’s not the only path to meaning — but it’s one of the few that guarantees momentum.

So, to close out the point I said:

“It’s a well known fact that Warren Buffett spends 5 to 6 hours a day reading. I guarantee you that somebody who knows him personally probably thinks the way he studies the stock market is insane and unhealthy.”

Because obsession always looks weird — unless it’s yours.

That’s the point.

We all have different obsessions.

For some, it’s spreadsheets.

For others, it’s the barbell.

For me?

It’s psychology.

Storytelling.

Purpose.

I’ll talk about it even when the people around me don’t want to because I’m thinking about it even when I don’t want to be.

The tragedy isn’t that we’re all obsessed with different things.

The tragedy is that most people aren’t obsessed with anything.

They confuse balance with blandness.

They convince themselves they’re satisfied because they’ve forgotten what it feels like to feel alive.

So sometimes, we need someone like David to remind us.

Speaking of which, remember when I said Goggins held the pull-up world record?

Well — not anymore.

Some kid just broke it.

Do I think he would’ve even attempted it if David hadn’t shown what was possible?

Doubtful.

How would we know where the bar is — until someone raised it?

Pun fully intended.

That’s the thing about obsession:

It doesn’t just push the obsessed.

It pulls the rest of us forward.

So, Be Obsessed

Other people’s obsessions aren’t a threat to you.

They’re an invitation.

A glimpse at what passion looks like when it’s allowed to run.

I don’t want everyone to run ultramarathons.

But I do want everyone to find the thing that makes them feel irrationally alive.

The thing they can’t not do.

The thing that makes no sense to anyone else but still wakes them up at 5am.

Obsession isn’t comfortable.

It costs you.

I’ve lost time, sleep, relationships.

I’ve questioned my sanity more than once.

But every time I tried living without it — without something pulling me forward like gravity — I felt hollow.

Edges dulled.

Colors faded.

I became the reader of my own novel rather than the protagonist of my own story.

So no, not everyone should be David Goggins.

But everyone needs an obsession.

Until then,