It doesn't have to be fun, to be fun.

Not long ago, I finished a huge project for work. I spent a lot of effort on it, since pretty much the beginning of this year.? The project involved everyone—truly an "all-hands-on-deck" situation. We all worked together, synthesizing lots of moving parts in order to pull everything together.? This project also came with a lot of pressure to do well.

I'm sure we're all familiar with this kind of work, right?

I felt so proud on the day our project came due, watching everyone perform at their best, witnessing the payoff of all our hard work, and knowing we gave the task everything we possibly could.

You all know what I'm talking about.? We've all had experiences like this.? Projects that involve preparation, hard work, stress and worry, and pressure to do well.

Since the event ended, I’ve been exhausted—but in a nice, almost peaceful way. There’s something profoundly satisfying about this kind of tiredness. It’s a reminder of the effort poured into the project and the satisfaction of knowing we did our best. I find myself savoring my tiredness, knowing that it represents the culmination of our collective efforts.?

When I think of times like these in my life, I recall something my now-spouse said to me?when I was first getting to know her.? At the time, she was completing her medical fellowship, and wrote me just after finishing two weeks of patient service at the hospital:

"My two weeks from hell are over. I am enjoying the first evening in two weeks where I don't have to do anything!? I'm feeling quite cross-eyed, but happy with jobs well done…."

We all know that feeling, right? The word to describe it is just perfect:

Sublime.

My memories of sublime moments remain clear and sharp, even years later.? These are instances in my life when I felt at peace, and experienced a sort of state of grace.

• For example when I was in graduate school, I recall staying up all night working on impossible physics problem sets, wondering how I would ever figure ways to solutions that seemed beyond my abilities.? Feeling tired and frustrated, my friends and I would roam the halls of the dorm, stopping by each others' rooms to trade ideas, and sharing our suffering. There was no better feeling than finally turning in the work, knowing I had given it my all.
• I once joined a team of 12 runners for the Providian race—a 200-mile relay stretching from Napa Valley, California to Santa Cruz. I trained for the race for weeks, running twice a day —mornings and evenings, to acclimate myself to the race schedule. At the race itself, our team members took our turns running the relay legs, jumping out of the team van to run, while teammates cheered us on.? When we finally crossed the finish line on the beach in Santa Cruz, I was physically exhausted, hurting, dehydrated, and absolutely euphoric.
• And I can vividly remember the birth of each of my kids, life-affirming events accompanied by the special combination of singular focus, exhaustion, intense worry, and finally, pure bliss — during the days in the hospital and in the first days after we all came home.

These are some of the special times in my life so far.? But when I think back on them, they weren't altogether pleasant experiences, were they?? (Not at all!)? Each of them involved an intense amount of work, anxiety, frustration, and sometimes even physical pain. They were all times of singular focus—when my world narrowed to only the task at hand, and everything else receded to the background. Somehow, this combination of elements ended up bringing a deep satisfaction that's otherwise hard to find.

When I think about my life experiences this way, they each seem like a transformational journey.? Foremost, they are hard work—and at times unpleasant. But the excellent payoff comes with perseverance— finding joy in challenges that at first are daunting.? These transformations are sometimes called metanoia, which describes a profound shift in perspective wherein the struggles become part of the joy.

I love the idea of metanoia—the idea that the way we deal with hard things can bring us deep satisfaction and happiness. How important for many of our life’s activities!

Thinking about metanoia reminds me of the famed alpinist Jeff Lowe, who is widely considered the most accomplished North American mountain climber in history. He is remembered for “visionary climbs” of challenging mountains, wherein he imagined new routes to the top—and then achieved their first ascents.

Lowe’s most audacious climb of all was his iconic, 12-day solo ascent of the North Face of Mount Eiger in the Swiss Alps—one of the most treacherous places in the world. In 1991, Lowe imagined a new route up the dangerous face and relied on his skills, mental strength, and unbreakable spirit to push the limits of what was thought possible in alpine climbing.

Upon completing this first ascent, Lowe named his new route Metanoia, to capture the mental transformation he underwent during the climb, embracing adversity and overcoming the most daunting challenges.

Later in his life, Lowe reflected on his climbing career in a short poem that captures the essence of endurance, and how he found joy in pushing limits:

More than five decades of hands grated by cracks; Whole body aching from long days of big wall hauling; Tiny tents, snow caves lashed by hurricane sleet.

Frozen fingers and toes; Migraines and altitude malaise. Not knowing what's to come.

It doesn't have to be fun, to be fun.

Finding joy in the journey.?

“Not knowing what’s to come. It doesn’t have to be fun, to be fun.”?

That's perfect. Sublime.

This beautiful ocean photo by Joshua Sukoff?is available at unsplash.com