When people think of resilience, they often picture toughness – pushing through, never showing weakness, gritting your teeth until the finish line. But the first time that you do military Physical Training, you’re dissuaded of this myth; if the PT Instructor wants to break you, they can. I’ve spent a lot of time doing stuff which people consider ‘difficult’ in the traditional sense. So, do my successes in these things simply make me tougher than most? I don’t think so.
Resilience, in my opinion, is, very simply, the ability to see the course – to hold steady and work towards an outcome, even through uncertainty, hardship and changing conditions. What’s often overlooked is that resilience isn’t a thing you either have or you don’t. It’s an acquired skill, and if people are asked too much of too soon, of course they’re going to break. Resilience is about adapting and conditioning to the long term to enable yourself to undertake more and more over time.
Toughness has its place. On my South Pole expedition, there were moments where I simply had to grizz through the last couple of kilometres in a day. Without that ability to grind out miles when needed, I wouldn’t have made enough progress to finish before my food ran out.
But toughness alone doesn’t see you through. It can make you rigid. And rigid things break. Resilience is toughness that’s intelligently deployed – believing that you can simply out-tough a continent and whatever nature throws at you is the opposite of true resilience – it’s stupidity and arrogance.
During my recovery from paralysis, trying to “tough it out” at all costs would have left me stuck. Progress only came when I accepted new realities, adjusted my approach, and focused on what I could influence. That wasn’t about being hard all the time – it was about applying toughness where it mattered most, and saving energy when it didn’t.
Resilience isn’t something you either have or you don’t. It’s a skill that can be learned, just like any other. And a big part of developing it lies in knowing when you are biting off more than you can chew.
This is where vulnerability comes in. It’s the willingness to accept your current position honestly, without denial or pretence. After my brain bleed, I had to face the reality of paralysis and admit I needed help. That honesty gave me a clear starting point. Without it, I would have been overwhelmed by the scale of the challenge.
On the ice, the same principle applied. Long expeditions – and long recoveries – tend to involve facing situations that you haven’t experienced before. Vulnerability in this sense is about situational awareness – knowing what you can and can’t control, and leveraging lessons that you’ve learned from past experiences to see a way through. By accepting where you are, you give yourself the best chance of deploying resilience effectively and staying the course all the way through.
Resilience isn’t accidental. It comes from deciding what outcome you want and then taking ownership of the responsibility to reach it. Ultimately, a big part of resilience boils down to how much you want something, and knowing what you’re prepared to sacrifice to achieve it.
After my brain bleed, I had to make that decision for myself. I could have chosen to stop at “good enough”, but I didn’t want that – I wanted to rebuild, to compete again, to push for more. And it was on me to put the work in to achieve that.
My South Pole expedition was the same. The outcome I wanted was clear, but the path to get there was significantly more than I’d anticipated – years spent fundraising, training, all to make it possible to even have a go at getting to the Pole itself. Ownership kept me accountable to the outcome I’d committed to.
Resilience in this sense is about more than actions in the moment. It’s about owning the decision to see the course, and accepting that the result rests with you.
The third attribute is adaptability. Challenges rarely go to plan. Rehab didn’t follow a straight path. Antarctica certainly didn’t. Weather, terrain, fatigue – all of it forced adjustments.
But adaptability is about more than changing tactics. It’s also about choosing where to apply your energy. If you’re prepared to die on every hill, how can anyone tell which are the really meaningful ones? Resilience often means letting some things go, stepping back when resistance isn’t required, and saving your strength for when it really matters.
On the ice, that meant finding the path of least resistance – knowing when conditions were worth pushing or not. In recovery, it meant accepting setbacks without turning every one of them into a war. Adaptability isn’t weakness; it’s discipline. It’s about keeping yourself in the best position to stay the course.
Resilience isn’t about toughness in isolation. Toughness is short-term – useful in the moment, but, ultimately, everyone has a breaking point. Resilience is long-term – the ability to stay on course, guided by attributes like vulnerability, ownership, and adaptability.
The strongest people I’ve met aren’t those who hide weakness. They’re those who can be honest about their situation, take responsibility for their choices, and adapt and make intelligent decisions as conditions change.
Whilst it helps to have an end goal in mind, resilience is not defined by toughness alone. It is the ability to see the course – and that ability is strengthened by attributes we don’t always expect: being honest about where you are, taking ownership of the outcomes you want, and adapting when circumstances shift. Resilience is not about being unbreakable; it’s about continuing forward, whatever the conditions.
29 August 2025
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