Book Review: Smile or you’re doing it wrong - Andy Glaze

I recently finished Andy Glaze’s book Smile or You’re Doing it Wrong. The memoir touched on topics of addiction, endurance athletics, professional development, and carried a huge emphasis on “finding your trail.” By finding your trail, Glaze basically means finding your healthy outlet among the chaos of life. Many successful triathletes and thousands of age groupers can relate to Andy’s story of overcoming hardship, which was my reason for picking up the book as well.

From the beginning, Andy reframes failure. He says, “Rock bottom isn’t quicksand. It’s bedrock. It’s the foundation you can build on when you’re finally ready to stop digging and start climbing.” This resonated with me because I too was one of those people who constantly blamed my situation for my negative outcomes. This quote is the beginning of a whole story centered around not victimizing yourself. Andy invites his readers to take control of themselves and not fall victim to situations they have little control over. But that’s the thing—we always have some level of control. Maybe not over the outcome itself, but definitely over our attitude toward it.

Andy points out that people living outside of discomfort are simply just “existing. Floating through life in a haze of artificial contentment, successful enough to avoid consequences, comfortable enough to avoid change.” (Glaze, 39). I notice myself in these phases often. As a 21-year-old, I’ve already finished three years of undergrad, competed in 11 Ironman-branded events, and worked for Congress as well as a mental health institution. Among other certifications and accomplishments, you’d think I’m experiencing great success. But that’s not always the reality.

This spring, I made the hard decision to step away from Wabash Swimming and Diving after a very hard-fought battle with depression, OCD, and anxiety the winter before. Stepping away was uncomfortable, but it was the best decision for me to maintain my happiness and improve the other areas of life that I care deeply about.

Wabash swimming was a community. A great group of successful men that lifted each other to the highest standard possible. That’s why it was so hard to leave. The community was inviting and uplifting, but it wasn’t where I saw myself investing countless hours and mental energy anymore. Andy points out that these moments of uncertainty and confusion about where to go next can create a huge internal dilemma. He says, “feeling the hard things [doesn’t] make you weak, it made you real.” (Glaze, 120).

He also explains through his stories on the trail and through a string of DNF’s that “sometimes the strongest thing you can do is stop.” (Glaze, 128). The first time I read this quote, I saw it as completely counterintuitive. Throughout my time in endurance athletics, the sentiment has always been “death before DNF.” Reading Andy’s stories of injuries, failed relationships, and failures on the trail showed me that sometimes it is okay to slow down and better assess what your top priorities really are.

Andy suggests narrowing your priorities down to four focal points in life. For him, those focal points were, “Fatherhood. Fire. School. Fitness. That was everything. That was enough.” (Glaze, 77). That idea challenged me to find my own four focal points. I found that mine are College, Fitness (Ironman and general wellness), Career (Congress and the mental hospital), and service to others.

The first three are pretty self-explanatory, but the final focal point is a little more ambiguous. By service to others, I mean being an advocate for people while allowing them to freely express their stories and opinions. Glaze says in the book that, “sometimes people just need to be heard.” (Glaze, 117). I’ve realized how true that is through a lot of experiences in my own life.

One example comes from my barber. He’s experienced some of the worst things a man can experience in life, but I’m not there to judge him. I’m there to listen. He’s taught me stories of struggle, institutionalization, and heroin addiction. More importantly though, he taught me to look at people as if they’re a brother or sister. That means learning their stories and maybe not offering advice right away, but instead allowing them to vent. Venting is a coping skill that we teach at the mental hospital, and for it to work there needs to be good listeners—people who don’t focus on their response but rather on what the other person is really saying.

This brings me to another point from the book: “sometimes being a good human matters more than being a successful athlete.” (Glaze, 133). I pride myself on being a young Ironman athlete, but that’s not the full picture of who I am. I love people. I love working at the mental hospital with individuals who are going through some of the worst moments imaginable. I love listening to those who have opinions different than mine.

Working in the congressional office taught me that simply listening and giving people a chance to express their frustrations and opinions is critical for self-improvement, argumentation, and friendship-building. One of my best friends from college, Morgan Govekar, is an example of someone I fundamentally disagree with on many political stances, but we still ride together, train together in the pool, and engage in respectful intellectual conversations. Until you do this, you never really understand the similarities that two people with opposing views may still share.

One of the therapy groups that I help facilitate at the mental hospital also focuses on who these kids really are at their core. We often sit in a circle and get vulnerable with each other. We talk about our interests, hobbies, and foundational principles. A lot of times this ends with patients finding new friends and new outlets to vent their situations to. People who would never normally hang out with each other end up becoming advocates for one another, which I find incredibly special.

Andy’s biggest principle, which also happens to be the title of the book, is to smile. He says, “When you find the capacity to smile anyway, to find something, anything, worth appreciating in the midst of the brutal physical reality, you tap into a mental and emotional strength that can carry you through when physical strength has abandoned you.” (Glaze, 174).

You can ask anyone in my family—I never smile in photos. They hate that. Since reading Andy’s book, I’ve actually tried to smile more. Smiling says things that words can’t. It shows that “yeah this hurts. But I’m still here. I’m still moving. I’m still in it.” It’s the kind of smile that acknowledges the struggle but refuses to be defined by it. Andy makes an important distinction though. It’s not about forcing fake smiles or “grinning like an idiot,” but rather choosing joy in the face of hardship.

“Never make a decision on an uphill” is another principle that applies not only to ultrarunning but also to life in general. Don’t quit when things get hard. Don’t slow down when the schedule gets tough. Continue putting one foot in front of the other until the crest is reached. “The resilience you build through voluntary hardship becomes a resource you can draw on when involuntary hardship finds you, as it inevitably will.” (Glaze, 176).

That doesn’t mean you should blindly muscle through everything no matter what. Like I mentioned earlier, sometimes the best thing you can do is stop. But stopping should be the last resort. The goal shouldn’t be to beat the elements but simply to outlast them and survive. Andy writes that “survival isn’t about strength but about surrender, about finding the places where you can bend without breaking.” (Glaze, 185). Prioritization and knowing what to bend on is critical for defining what matters most in our lives. I still believe surrender should be a last resort, but maybe that’s where Andy and I slightly disagree. At the end of the day, it’s about finding what works for you.

One thing that works for me is this blog. It keeps me focused, intentional, and reflective. Glaze has a quote toward the end of the book about how he accidentally became somewhat of an internet sensation. He says that he, “was sharing because [he] was excited about what [he] was discovering, not because [he] thought anyone else particularly cared about [his] weekend mileage or gear choices.” (Glaze, 200). That struck me because it’s exactly why I started this blog.

I don’t really care whether this blog does huge numbers or if anybody even reads it for that matter. I’m doing it to document my experiences for others who may want to learn how to find some sliver of success in their own lives. This blog is a learning and reflective tool for me, which is very similar to journaling—a coping skill that I adamantly endorse.

My final point is about doing hard shit. Andy says that we are all “just one decision away from a completely different life.” (Glaze, 246). Ironman was the decision that completely changed my life. It made me more disciplined, intentional, and happy. Every day it asks the question, “what else can this body do?” But that question isn’t exclusive to athletics.

Andy even says that “the greatest distance I ever covered wasn’t in miles or kilometers. It was the distance between who I was and who I was becoming. Between a life ruled by fear and a life guided by possibility. Between running away and running forward.” (Glaze, 246). That quote might honestly summarize the entire book.

So I’ll ask you: what is your trail? What is your hard? What are your four focal points? And how far can you really go? I can confidently say that I’ve found the preliminary answers to some of these questions, but every day presents a new set of circumstances that changes what “hard” really means.

I highly suggest picking up this book from Andy Glaze’s website or on Amazon. He even sells signed copies and hats on his website that say “Smile or You’re Doing it Wrong.” So lace up those shoes, find your hard, and I’ll see you out there.

Thanks for staying to the end.

—Nick Sommers