Why do we do difficult things?

The other day, I was fishing a favorite run on the Cowichan River when I encountered a guide from our local fly shop.

He was fishing with four other guys, and we all spread out and took turns cycling through the run, attempting to hook winter steelhead.

Six men fished for five hours straight, and there were no pulls, no fish.

I didn’t expect any.

Around noon, my shoulder was sore, and I asked the wisecracking guide, “How often does a pro like you catch a winter steelhead?”

“Every 70-85 hours invested – estimated.”

"Damn, that's a sobering thought for us mere mortals," I replied.

“It’s a numbers game, man. There are easier ways to catch these fish."

“I know. I guess I like the difficulty.”

“Me too.”

Many people hate the grind, and swinging for winter steelhead is a grind.
And when there are very few fish around, the grind is even harder.

But the grind is where the magic happens and where you get to know yourself.

Since I was young, I’ve been interested in difficult subjects, tasks, and hobbies. I guess it’s part of my personality. I like to make my life difficult. Why?

Back in grade two, I remember wanting to check "The Black Stallion" out of the library at school. The librarian told me it was beyond my ability, and it was. But that evening at home, I told my mom about wanting to read it, and she took me back to the library the next day, and we checked it out.

She helped me get going, but I doubt we finished it. And so began my interest in difficult things. Maybe I liked the way it made me feel...or perhaps it's my competitive nature that draws me to difficult things.

For some of us, difficult work helps us transcend ourselves and become who we are. Doing difficult things helps us become the best versions of ourselves. By stretching ourselves, we develop self-reliance, determination, and insight into ourselves - it also cultivates humbleness in a person.

What's more, by doing difficult things, we learn to be in the moment and enjoy life. Serious rock climbers like Alex Honnold talk about this as well.

Often, when I’m knee-deep in the water, the energy of the space physically washes over me, and I realize how impermanent everything in life is. It helps keep the challenges of everyday life in perspective.

This quote, taken from “Why We Spey for Steelhead” by Project Healing Waters says it well:

“I have gone winter steelhead, spey fishing, over 20 times in the last three years. And of those twenty times, I’ve yet to catch a single steelhead. And so sometimes I wonder, is it worth it…coming out here, freezing. Is it worth coming out here, driving three hours one direction, paying for the lodging, paying for the meals. Is it worth it freezing and standing in the middle of the river?

I’ve grown to realize the answer is yes. Every time I come out here, I try to fish, spey fly fish, a certain section of the river well and I try to be in the present for the entire run. Often times, I can only make the first quarter of the section of the river before my crowded thoughts turn on what I’m doing. I’m trying to let go of the past and I’m trying to make new memories.