Endurance Is Not Health
For most of my career, I confused one for the other.
Founder’s Story • Part 2 of 3
New here? Part 1 is where it started: The Diagnosis That Changed Everything
Go home. That’s why you have a team.
My wife said it more than anyone. My boss, team and my friends said it. I usually heard it from people who hadn’t gone home either.
That’s the first thing that nobody tells you about the industry. The advice I was given and the behavior that I saw were completely separate universes. I learned very quickly that what gets rewarded isn’t balance or time with your family.
It’s your presence.
Things ran better when I was in the building. I knew it, my team knew it, so I stayed. Eight hours was a half day. Nobody made me do it, but the culture rewarded it. Somewhere along the way I started measuring my value by how much of myself I could give to it.
I got in early most days to get ahead or stay prepared. Then when I was about to go home, someone takes an early out, a VIP walks in, or a banquet doubles in size. And somehow I was always the person expected to save the day. Every day offered a different reason to stay. Especially if I had plans.
I worked six days a week for months at a time. My body was screaming at me that it needed rest. I started snapping at people who were nice to me and my fifth coffee at 4pm wasn’t working anymore. I couldn’t handle one more problem. My day off came, and it wasn’t rest. I needed to check in with a friend, pay my bills, or visit a doctor. Instead, I was still reading emails and making sure I had staffing for tomorrow’s service.
Then, another successful hotel opening, a five star rating, a promotion with a larger bonus. Friends in the industry told me I was doing something great. I took it as proof I was doing the right thing. I used that to convince myself the cost was worth it. If the approach was wrong, why did it keep getting rewarded?
Endurance and health are two separate things. They can coexist. For most of the time in my career, they didn’t. I had extraordinary endurance but my health was a different story. For most of my career, I confused one for the other. Fatigue that didn’t resolve itself with a night’s sleep or a day off. Joint pain from being on my feet all day. My gut issues that I wrote off as just stress at the moment. I generally forgot what it was like to feel calm even though I appeared to be.
Hospitality is built on a particular kind of pride. The ability to make people remember how they felt. Spinning a plate as you finished garnishing the food for a VIP. Surprising your team by showing up on a holiday you had off and being the person in the room that everyone depends on. That type of pride produces genuinely extraordinary work. That work overshadows your ability to hear your body. Hearing your body means admitting limitations. In a culture built around performance and presence, limitation feels like weakness.
Nobody teaches you what chronic stress does to the body over time.
I thought exhaustion was the cost of doing something meaningful.
The knowledge existed. It just was not part of my conversation.
I did not understand yet that the work would take more than I had to give.
Live well,
Nathan


