Grit Isn’t A Gift

Everyone talks about it. Few know how to spell it. Rarely do we define it. “Grit” is that mix of stubbornness and energy that keeps you going when everything around you says stop. It fascinates and puzzles at the same time: is it a gift for a chosen few, or a resource anyone can cultivate?

Motivation is often described as a spark. A short-lived boost, quickly consumed. Grit is more stubborn. It survives boredom, failure, discouragement. It stretches across days, weeks, sometimes months. It makes the athlete run when the stadium is empty. It pushes the entrepreneur to rework a pitch after three rejections, or to believe in a product no one wants yet. It keeps the student awake at midnight when the brain begs for sleep. It carries an ultrarunner through forty hours of racing.

If we admire grit, it’s because it doesn’t fall from the sky.

 

Meaning, joy, and the gaze of others

Three roots nourish grit. First, meaning: when what you do resonates, when effort holds value beyond itself. Second, joy: some find real pleasure in struggle, as if every obstacle were a game. Third, the gaze of others: a word of encouragement, a sign of recognition — sometimes that’s enough to last a little longer.

 

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Adversity as paradoxical fuel

Grit doesn’t always grow in the light of encouragement. Sometimes it takes root in shadows, in trials we didn’t choose. A childhood marked by scarcity. A humiliating failure. An injustice endured. Each blow becomes a form of invisible training. As if life, by stripping away comfort, forced you to invent an energy to fight back.

That’s the paradox: adversity breaks some, but it hardens others. Those who grew up constrained often learned to fight without a manual, without a plan B. That experience isn’t enviable, but it explains why some seem “programmed” to hold on longer.

And let’s be honest: we don’t all start with the same tools. Some inherit stability, others scars. But when scars turn into fuel, the determination that follows is formidable. Every difficulty overcome doesn’t just add a line to your story — it forges the conviction that nothing will be impossible to surpass.

Take Courtney Dauwalter, nicknamed the “queen” of trail running. At the last UTMB, she amazed the world with her unwavering will to continue despite every red flag. Many elites drop out once victory slips away. She doesn’t. For her, each extra mile is a dive into the famous “pain cave” — that mental space where everything hurts, but each minute inside makes you stronger.

Adversity doesn’t automatically make champions. But for some, it becomes an endless fuel, a quiet rage that feeds grit and makes it indestructible.

 

Should we really never give up?

We’ve all heard the slogan “never ever give up.” It’s on mugs, in gyms, on LinkedIn. It sounds good, it inspires. But it can also trap us. Because glorifying absolute persistence ignores an obvious truth: not everything is meant to last.

 

A project can be flawed from the start. A professional or personal relationship can be toxic. A company can be doomed by its own model. In those cases, persistence isn’t strength — it’s denial.

Look at sports. We admire the athlete who plays through pain. But how many have ruined their careers — or their health — because they gritted their teeth once too often? Behind the warrior image often lies a broken future. Sports doctors keep repeating it: knowing when to stop is also discipline.

Work is no different. We praise the colleague who “never gives up,” who piles on hours, who always takes one more file. But behind that heroic portrait often hides an employee in burnout, unable to admit they’re done. Again, tenacity isn’t virtue — it’s denial.

Real strength may lie in what we fear most: admitting it’s time to redirect energy. Deciding a battle isn’t worth fighting anymore. Saying no to a seductive but destructive project. Letting go, not out of weakness, but out of clarity.

It’s a paradox: we admire those who hold on, but maybe we should admire those who know how to let go. One demands physical courage, the other mental courage. And often, the latter is rarer.

 

Discipline...

We often forget the most banal aspect: discipline. Grit doesn’t always look like a spectacular victory.

It hides in tiny gestures, repeated again and again, even on days with zero motivation. Moving forward no matter what. Running scales on the piano when progress seems invisible. Heading back to the gym on a rainy Tuesday, just to keep the chain unbroken. Going for a run when your brain begs you to stay warm inside.

That’s often where the real difference lies between those who keep moving and those who stop. Not in a burst of willpower, but in the constancy of small steps. Discipline is grit in silent mode: no spectacle, no applause, just the certainty that persistence eventually transforms you.

 

A profoundly collective energy

We often tell grit as if it were a lonely battle. The hero against the world. It’s seductive, but false. Reality is more nuanced: behind every act of persistence there are almost always supports, glances, invisible ties that feed inner strength.

An encouraging word. A coach who believes in you. A friend who reminds you why you started. A team that counts on you. These small presences are quiet but essential fuels. Even the most admired figures admit they wouldn’t have lasted without that safety net.

Grit isn’t a mysterious essence reserved for the iron-willed. It looks more like an alchemy: a bit of adversity to forge resilience, a bit of discipline to build momentum, a lot of meaning to give direction, and above all, human ties to hold the course.

At its core, grit isn’t the story of one individual against the world. It’s the story of individuals who find strength through the world around them.

 

You yourself you will...

 

The real question isn’t “do I have grit?” but “where does mine come from?” To seek what pushes us, what lifts us back up, what keeps us moving. And above all, to nurture those roots daily rather than waiting for a magic spark.

 

And in the workplace? It’s even clearer. Grit is both crucial and invisible. You won’t find it in a degree, in a job title, or in a neat list of keywords on a résumé. Yet it’s what makes the difference.

 

It’s the candidate who pushes their limits without complaint. The one for whom “no” is just a starting point. The one who believes in a project when others doubt, and knows how to rally a team to move mountains.

 

You won’t read that in a formatted Word document. But you’ll feel it in testimonies, in colleagues’ eyes, in the stories of those who’ve seen this person in action.

 

That’s exactly what fairception reveals. We call it determination. And when it shows up in the top three — or even top six — traits of a profile, you can be sure of one thing: this person won’t just get past obstacles. They’ll turn them into steps to climb higher.