Abraham Wald changed things by shifting the military’s focus from where the returning planes had been hit to where they hadn’t been hit. Initially, military analysts examined planes that made it back from missions, noticing bullet holes concentrated in the wings, fuselage, and tail. Their instinct was to reinforce those areas, assuming that’s where the aircraft needed more protection.

Wald, however, pointed out a crucial flaw: they were only analyzing surviving planes. The aircraft that had been shot down—the ones that never returned—weren’t part of the dataset. The reason the returning planes had damage in specific areas was that hits in those locations weren’t fatal. The real vulnerabilities were in the places without bullet holes on the surviving planes, because when those areas were hit, the planes didn’t come back.

His recommendation? Reinforce the parts of the aircraft that showed little or no damage on surviving planes—such as the engines and cockpit—because those were the spots where damage was likely fatal. This insight led to better armor placement and ultimately saved countless lives.

This same flawed thinking—focusing only on visible successes while ignoring unseen failures—is what fuels survivorship bias in weight loss and health advice. We look at the “successful” cases but often fail to account for the people who followed the same plan and didn’t succeed.

The raw metal a blacksmith uses to forge a sword, is useless in its original state—soft, shapeless, lacking purpose. Only through fire, hammering, and relentless beating does it take form, its impurities burned away, its structure hardened, transformed into something powerful.

Nature tells us everything we need to know about growth. Trees that survive relentless winds don’t just stand tall—they dig deep. Their roots anchor them firmly into the earth, gripping tightly against the forces that threaten to rip them away. The more resistance they face, the stronger their foundation becomes. Without the storm, the roots remain shallow, weak, untested.

As we move through different phases of life, one truth becomes undeniable—what once worked for us won’t work forever. The energy, priorities, and abilities we had in our twenties are different from those in our forties, fifties, and beyond. The world doesn’t pause for us to catch up, and if we’re not evolving, we risk being unprepared for the next stage. Growth isn’t about chasing youth or resisting change—it’s about adapting, expanding, and becoming more capable in ways that suit who we are now and who we are still becoming.

I spend my days helping others build structure, consistency, and accountability in their fitness journeys. I preach these principles daily. And yet, if I’m being honest, I was dropping the ball in my own life. I’d set deadlines and miss them. I’d make big plans and let them collect dust. I kept telling myself I’d catch up when things calmed down—but they never did.