The Marathon of Words: Why I Write Daily and Won’t Stop

When I launched my daily LinkedIn blog nearly ten months ago and later expanded it into The Elephant in the Office newsletter, the skeptics didn’t hold back. “It’s not sustainable,” they warned. “Your readers will tune out—boredom will win.” I smirked, shook off the noise, and kept my fingers on the keyboard. Serious runners don’t lace up for a marathon to bask in the crowd’s applause; they do it to conquer a brutal, self-imposed challenge. That’s me in this writing game—a marathoner chasing a finish line only I can see. Perseverance isn’t a suggestion; it’s my fuel. And I’m not stopping until I cross that line.

The Power of Commitment

Daily writing isn’t for the faint-hearted. It’s a grind—raw, relentless, and unforgiving. But that’s precisely why it works. Commitment isn’t about convenience; it’s about showing up when the tank feels empty, inspiration hides, and doubters multiply. Ten months in, I’ve churned out over 300 pieces—each a step forward, each a defiance of the “you can’t” chorus.

The naysayers missed the point. This isn’t about their approval or even my readers’ applause (though I’m grateful for every one of you). It’s about proving something: I can set a towering goal and smash through every wall to reach it. That’s the marrow of perseverance—deciding what matters and then doing it, no matter the weather.

Readers Don’t Bore; They Evolve

Let’s tackle the “boredom” critique head-on. People don’t lose interest when you’re consistent—they adapt. They come to expect your voice, your take, your rhythm. My LinkedIn posts started as a solo experiment, a way to unpack the chaos of work, leadership, and life. When I launched The Elephant in the Office, I doubled down, delivering straight talk on the unspoken giants we all face—fear, doubt, bureaucracy. Readers didn’t drift; they grew with me. Subscriptions climbed. Comments sharpened. Conversations sparked.

Why? Because consistency breeds trust. Show up daily, and you’re no longer a fleeting post in the feed—you’re a fixture—a signal in the noise. Readers don’t tire of that; they lean into it. Sure, some drop off—marathons aren’t for everyone—but the ones who stay? They’re in it for the long haul, just like me.

The Discipline Dividend

Here’s the dirty secret of daily writing: it’s less about talent and more about discipline. Anyone can dash off a brilliant piece once a month. But every day? That’s a beast of a different breed. It forces you to dig deeper, wrestle with your limits, and find gold in the mundane. I’ve written on days when my brain felt like mush, when deadlines loomed, and when life threw punches. And every time, I came out stronger.

Discipline pays compound interest. Ten months ago, I was a decent writer with a habit. Now? I’m a machine—faster, sharper, bolder. My ideas don’t just sit; they sprint. My voice doesn’t waver; it roars. That’s what happens when you don’t quit—you don’t just endure; you evolve. The marathon doesn’t break you; it builds you.

The Finish Line Isn’t the Point

So, where’s this all headed? People ask, “What’s your endgame?” as if I’ve got a neon sign flashing “Done” somewhere ahead. The finish line isn’t a date or a word count—it’s a state of mind. I’ll know it when I feel it: when I’ve said what I needed to say and stretched myself to the edge; when the challenge I set has nothing left to teach me. Until then, I run.

This isn’t blind stubbornness. It’s purpose with a pulse. Writing daily keeps me honest—it’s a mirror for my thoughts, a hammer for my convictions. The Elephant in the Office isn’t just a newsletter; it’s a war cry against complacency, a call to face the big, ugly truths we dodge at work and beyond. Every post, every issue, is a brick in something more significant. I don’t know its shape yet, but I’ll see it through.

The Skeptics Were Wrong—And That’s Okay

Let’s circle back to those early doubters. They weren’t malicious; they were just human. We’re wired to fear the unsustainable, to doubt the uncharted. I get it. But here’s the kicker: they were wrong. Not because I’m some superhuman outlier but because they underestimated what happens when you marry grit with purpose. Ten months and counting, I’m still here. Still writing. Still running.

Were they entirely off-base? Not quite. Sustainability is a beast—I’ve had to rethink workflows, carve out time, and fight burnout. But that’s the marathoner’s edge: you adapt mid-stride. You find the rhythm. You keep moving. And the readers? They’re not bored—they’re engaged. The metrics don’t lie: views hold steady, opens climb, and feedback flows. The skeptics saw a sprint and called it quits; I saw a marathon and laced up.

The Road Ahead

What’s next? More of the same, but better. I’ll keep pushing The Elephant in the Office to new corners—sharper insights, bolder takes, deeper dives. I’m eyeing a book, maybe a podcast, that will show ways to stretch this marathon into new terrain. The finish line might shift, but the pace won’t. Daily writing is in my blood now; it’s not a task; it’s a reflex.

To anyone reading this thinking, “I could never,”—you can. Pick your marathon. Set your target. Attack it. The onlookers might cheer or jeer, but they’re not the point. You are. Perseverance isn’t about proving them wrong; it’s about proving yourself right. I’ve got miles to go, and I’m loving every punishing step.

So here I am, ten months deep, still smirking, still writing. The doubters can watch from the sidelines. This runner’s not stopping.