Why Growth Feels Hard — And Why It Should (Day 7)

On my walk this morning, I started thinking about the cost of personal growth. Not just the metaphorical cost — the energy cost.

Growth is expensive. Not in money, but in effort, attention, and energy.

I’m using “growth” broadly here — learning something new, improving a skill, stretching your body or your mind. Whatever form it takes, growth pushes you out of your comfort zone. And it demands your resources.

Yesterday I played a long, competitive two-hour padel match with some friends. It was one of those games where everyone was fully locked in. I loved it. But I woke up today feeling a little off — mentally drained, body a bit sore. My knees and lower back stiff from the sudden stops and twists I’m not yet used to.

My first thought was, ‘Am I getting old?’ But then I caught myself, and reminded myself of an important truth:

This is exactly what growth feels like.

I’m learning a completely new sport. My brain is overloaded trying to read angles, anticipate bounces, solve quick motor problems in real time. My body is adapting to new patterns of movement it hasn’t practiced before. That’s not aging — that’s effort. That’s change.

If I had been playing padel for 10 years, I could probably cruise through that game on autopilot. Low effort. Low cost. But also? Low growth.

We forget that growth should feel hard.

That temporary fatigue — the soreness, the brain fog, the stiffness — is the price of adaptation. It’s your system reconfiguring itself to become better. To evolve. It’s nature’s invoice.

But here’s the kicker: the older we get, the more we subconsciously avoid paying that invoice. We realise just how much energy growth costs… and we start dodging the fee.

We say no to new skills. We stay in our lane. We repeat routines. We stop exploring.

Not because we don’t want to grow — but because it’s just easier not to.

That’s how stagnation sneaks in.

Not all at once. But slowly. Through comfort. Through repetition. Through the unconscious belief that growth is too expensive.

And yet, for me, all the fun in life is tied to growth. Learning something new. Stretching what I thought was possible. Taking on challenges that make me feel like a beginner again.

That feeling of “I don’t quite know what I’m doing — but I’m trying.” That’s where the aliveness is.

Energy is the currency. Growth is the investment.

You can’t grow without energy. Just like you can’t invest money if you don’t have any left after covering your bills.

Everyday life drains energy — answering messages, cooking, working, commuting. If you’re not careful, there’s nothing left over to grow with. And just like with money, most people end up wasting their remaining energy on things that offer no return: scrolling, bingeing, numbing out.

That’s why real growth, physical or mental, requires not just energy, but a surplus of it. A conscious reserve.

But here's the trap I used to fall into: I’d try to grow with whatever I had left at the end of the day. After life had already drained me.

You can’t invest leftovers. You have to invest upfront.

These days, I protect the first 3 hours of my day for personal growth. No email. No calls. No admin. Just the deep work: walking, meditating, reading, writing. My brain is sharpest, most open — so that’s when I pour in the best energy I’ve got.

Later in the afternoon, I block out 2–4pm for physical growth — gym or padel. I’m lucky to have the flexibility to structure my days this way, and I make the most of it.

Same goes for money. I don’t wait to see what’s left at the end of the month and try to invest that. I set up automated payments into index funds that move money before I even think about spending it. Energy and money follow the same principle: spend with intention, not convenience.

You can’t outsource growth.

You can outsource admin. You can outsource cooking. You can even outsource your shopping.

But you can’t outsource thinking.

You can't outsource effort.

And you can't outsource the growth that comes from effort.

No one can lift the weight for you. No one can learn for you. No one can change your neural pathways for you.

That’s why growth feels hard — and why it should.

Because it’s personal. It demands something real from you. And that’s what makes it valuable.

So if I feel sore, tired, mentally stretched — I take it as a good sign. It means I’m alive. It means I’m not coasting.

I want to always be experiencing growing pains.

Not because I like pain — but because I want to keep evolving. To keep showing up at my edge. To stay a student of the game, whatever the game is.

Because in the end…

Growth costs something. But it’s always worth the price.

Adam