“The river does not struggle to reach the ocean, yet it carves through mountains.” – Unknown

“Try harder”.

Somewhere inside all of us, there is a small voice whispering, “just try harder”.

Ok, maybe it’s just me, but I am sure I am not the minority.

Can’t lift your arm? “Try harder”.

Can’t lift a heavy leg? “Put more effort into it”.

Catching your toe when you are walking? “Try harder”

Whatever the “movement problem” might be, the response (I see) is often some variation of “try harder”.

If you have the mantra “try harder” playing in the background, credit to the well-intentioned authority figure in your development years for planting the seed (when you were learning a seemingly “critical life skill”)

I hate to “bash” a well-intentioned authority figure, but the “try harder” playlist is not always ideal in adulthood. In particular, when “adulting” includes relearning said “critical life skills”.

I spent my high school years in a beach town on the southeast coast of Florida, a place that has invested heavily in protecting its coastline. As a result, traversing the shore often means navigating long, steep boardwalks—bridging the gap between concrete sidewalks and the vulnerable grains of sand. Walking along the wooden planks and descending the sharp staircase, you can’t help but notice the dense, unyielding vegetation beneath your feet—placed (in part) to battle against the persistent and unrelenting attempts of the salt water to “seize” our coast.

Spending all of my adult life surrounded by water, it is one of my favorite contradictions in nature.  Gentle, yet at times, overbearing.

That said, I can’t think of a better metaphor for neurologic recovery.

I am far from an oceanographer, but my “ascientific opinion”, is that hurricanes get all the blame for what the small, gentle, consistent ripples of water quietly accomplish day after day, gradually transforming the shoreline in ways that are often under-appreciated until they become obvious.

Whether you are trying to “lift a heavy leg” or want to walk a 5k, “trying harder” is no different than relying on the next big “surge” of energy (motivation, muscle “strength”, “inspiration”…etc). While neglecting the change that can occur by the small, seemingly “insignificant efforts”.

Fun fact, swing phase of walking (the time when the “working leg” is off the ground) is 38% of the walking cycle. Yet, it is not uncommon for someone after a neurologic injury to think about lifting the leg for the entire gait cycle.  “Try harder”. MORE effort. MORE power.

10,000 steps per day is often “recommended” to reduce the risk of chronic disease. But what gets less attention are the health benefits that occur when someone starts walking as little as 2,200 steps per day.

Slow and steady wins the race. Full stop.

What “race” you might ask?

The race toward feeling a sense of accomplishment.

The race to a more “disciplined” version of you.

The race toward faster, more efficient walking.

The race toward greater balance confidence without the fear of falling.

The race toward greater joy, peace, and contentment. Process far and above destination.

Small ripples of “effort” done consistently within a given “gait cycle” or a given month will do more to re-shape the “quality” of your movement than the “surge”.

Today and every day, do everything you can to make as many ripples as possible with the resources that are currently available.

Trust the process.

And patiently wait as your little daily efforts transform you into a better, more resilient, more capable version of yourself.