The Moment I Learned Quitting Wasn’t Allowed

There were a thousand little moments growing up in sports that taught me quitting wasn’t an option.

“Push through.”

“Suck it up.”

“Don’t be soft.”

But one memory sits like a cornerstone.

I was a kid. My dad was training me and my brothers. I started hyperventilating, my vision blurred.

He yelled at me to keep going. I pushed harder.

Then—I passed out.

We rushed to a nearby 7-Eleven. I was crying, scared, overwhelmed.

And my dad?

He yelled at me to quit crying.

That moment rewired something in me.

I learned that what I felt didn’t matter.

That physical pain, emotional distress, even fear were all just things to override.

So I did. For years. I became someone who could endure anything… except the idea of stopping.

Disclaimer:

The story I share reflects a personal childhood experience that shaped my emotional relationship with quitting. It’s not meant to blame or shame any individual involved, especially my father, who was doing the best he could with what he knew at the time. Like many in the sports world, he operated from a mindset of toughness and resilience—values that shaped me in both helpful and harmful ways. I share this moment not to criticize, but to shed light on how deeply these lessons can root themselves in us, often unconsciously, and how we can begin to unlearn what no longer serves us.