Finishing 75 Hard: Gentle Discipline and a New Beginning

Vanessa Harris
Sep 8
3 min read

Somewhere between the first early mornings and the final check mark on my tracker, I realized this wasn’t just a challenge anymore. It was a season of my life. Completing my version of 75 Hard felt less like crossing a finish line and more like closing a chapter that I

didn’t yet know was preparing me for what was coming next.

When I first started, I wasn’t sure if I had it in me. The original program is known for being rigid and demanding, almost militant in its approach. That kind of all-or-nothing pressure had never worked for me. If anything, it always left me burned out or disconnected from my own body. So I decided to create my own version, one that kept the structure of the challenge but softened its edges. I wanted to see what would happen if I committed fully, but in a way that allowed for rest, compassion, and grace.

My version still asked a lot of me: daily workouts, mindful nutrition, reading, hydration, consistency, and presence. But instead of forcing discipline at the cost of everything else, I leaned into what I like to call gentle discipline. For me, this meant holding myself accountable while also allowing space for softness. It meant recognizing that discipline isn’t punishment, it’s the choice to keep showing up.

There were days when I woke up ready to move, and days when the last thing I wanted was to lace up my shoes. There were evenings when walking my dogs in the rain felt heavy, when I questioned whether the effort was worth it, when the mirror showed no obvious transformation. These were the moments that tested me most. What I learned is that gentle discipline doesn’t require loving every step. It requires choosing to stay committed even when motivation slips away, and trusting that the smallest actions still carry weight.

The biggest shifts happened beneath the surface. My strength improved, but so did my clarity. My anxiety softened, my sleep deepened, my body felt steadier. I discovered a rhythm between effort and ease that I hadn’t known for a long time. What surprised me most was how little I relied on motivation by the end. Motivation can be fickle. Some days it’s abundant, other days it’s absent. Momentum, however, builds quietly, like water carving a riverbank. Small, consistent actions led me toward a foundation that felt unshakable.

Looking back now, I can see just how much I needed that foundation. I’ve been living in Latvia for two months, and life here is full in a different way. The days are long and the weeks are short. I walk everywhere, spend hours on my feet teaching classes, and soak in a culture where physical activity is simply part of the rhythm of daily life. There are no real options for taking a day off, at least not in the way I once thought of rest. Instead, rest shows up as a slower walk, a quiet evening, or a mindful pause between responsibilities.

75 Hard helped prepare me for this. It taught me how to lean into structure without losing my gentleness. It taught me how to show up even when I didn’t feel like it, how to hold myself accountable without pushing myself into the ground. It was a kind of training for this life… a life that asks for discipline, but also for softness.

For anyone considering something like this, here’s what I’d offer:

Start with sustainability. Adapt the program to your life. Rigidity isn’t strength, consistency is.
Focus on process, not appearance. The real transformations happen inside: in your energy, your focus, your resilience.
Balance effort with grace. Missing one piece doesn’t mean failure. What matters is the choice to keep going.
Notice more than numbers. Track how you feel, how you sleep, how you speak to yourself. These are the measures that matter most.

Completing 75 Hard wasn’t about sculpting my body into something new. It was about learning how to trust myself again. And now, in this season of long days, I can see how much I rely on that trust. Not perfection, not pressure, just gentle discipline, and the reminder that I am capable of building a life that feels both strong and soft.