From Motivation to Identity: A Better Way to Lead

Hard things are always hard, but they’re easier when there’s a reason.

A finish line. A diagnosis. A deadline. A crisis. A scoreboard. When adversity hits, most of us find something to grip, some external reason to keep going. I know I have. Every major challenge I’ve faced, personally or professionally—has come with a clear motivator. Something urgent. Something meaningful. Something real.

And honestly, I’ve been thankful for those reasons. They’ve given me focus when things felt chaotic. They’ve helped me push through when quitting would’ve been easier. But I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the times when that motivation isn’t there.

What happens when there’s no end goal? No crowd cheering. No measurable payoff. Just the hard thing, right in front of you.

That’s different. That’s where real discipline lives. It’s the quiet, uncelebrated kind of effort. It’s doing the right thing, not because it guarantees a result, but because it’s who you are.

Love him or hate him, I like David Goggins. I have read all of his books and find motivation through him and what he posts on social media. He says it best in this regard: “Motivation is crap. Motivation comes and goes. When you're driven, whatever is in front of you will get destroyed.” That kind of drive doesn’t wait for ideal circumstances. It’s forged in moments where nobody’s watching, and nothing is promised.

As leaders, we’re often in the business of creating motivation. We rally teams with vision. We set goals. We track metrics. And those things matter—deeply. But maybe the more lasting kind of leadership helps people look inward. Helps them build something stronger than motivation. Something rooted. Something steady.

The truth is, motivation fades. But identity, the kind you shape through hard things done in silence, sticks. Maybe the real work of leadership isn’t just moving people forward. Maybe it’s helping them become the kind of people who keep going, even when forward isn’t clear.

Doing hard things for no reason isn’t glamorous. It doesn’t get shared. But it changes people. Quietly. Steadily. From the inside out.

So maybe it’s time we asked less often, “What’s driving me?” and more often, “What am I grounded in?” Because the applause will stop. The goalposts will move. The reasons will fade.

And when they do, who we are is what carries us through.