Some Days You Just Have to Keep Going — Even When It’s Hard

There are days when motivation shows up ready to work.

And then there are days when it doesn’t.

Days when the vision still matters—but the energy is gone. When the excitement that once carried you feels quiet. When progress feels slow, and doubt feels loud.

Those are the days I want to talk about.

Because those days are where most people quit.

This journey has been exciting, exhausting, and humbling all at the same time. From January to January, only about eight months of it was actual development—turning a rough idea into a prototype, testing it, refining it, branding it, building the platform, and finally launching.

On paper, it sounds fast.

Living it felt like everything all at once.

There were long days, short nights, and moments where I questioned whether I was cut out for this at all. Not because I didn’t believe in the idea—but because believing and enduring are two different things.

Here’s the truth I don’t hear often enough:

If I can do this, anyone can.

I’m not some polished success story. I’m a simple Georgia boy with a wild imagination. I built forts in the woods, got into neighborhood stick wars, found plenty of ways to get myself into trouble, and never quite fit into the clean mold society likes to hand out.

I had a short stint in the Marine Corps. I dropped out of college six classes shy of a marketing degree. I partied too hard when I was younger. I failed more than I succeeded.

Hard knocks raised me more than anything else.

And I want to be clear about something here.

I loved both my parents.

Like most families, we had our challenges growing up. Things weren’t always easy between them, and life wasn’t always smooth. But they were there.

My dad showed up. He supported me when I needed him. He did his best to build me up and point me in the right direction.

I know my mom loved me, even in seasons where things were complicated. Looking back now, I can see how much both of them carried—and how much they gave with what they had.

With more perspective than I had then, I can say this honestly: I was a challenge.

I tested limits. I pushed boundaries. I learned some lessons the long way—not because I lacked love or guidance, but because I was stubborn enough to believe I needed to figure things out on my own.

And over time, I learned what works, what doesn’t, what hurts, and what actually makes you better.

I don’t know why I’m wired to take risks—but maybe that’s part of it. You need a little bit of stupid to do something big. Not reckless. Just enough to step forward when logic says, wait.

If I were really smart, I never would’ve jumped out of a perfectly good airplane just to say I did it.

That was stupid.

And man… it was worth it.

That’s also why people like me need smart people around us. Nothing meaningful is ever built alone. I may see the vision and move toward it—but it’s always the people God places in my path who help carry it forward.

No shortcuts. No polish.

Just grit, faith, and the willingness to keep going.

My late wife, Caroline, and I started a cleaning business at the end of 2019. We’d just faced a major setback with another venture, and a service business felt like an honest way to start over.

We were always on the road—building to building. It was nothing but sweat work. But we were happy, because we were working together.

Caroline ate clean. Simple. Intentional.

Me? I grabbed whatever I could between jobs. Skipped breakfast. Never packed lunch. Gas station sandwiches and snacks became the routine.

My body eventually pushed back.

I felt sluggish. Tired. Like my energy was leaking out faster than I could replace it.

I tried protein bars and fruit drinks—anything quick that claimed to be healthy. But there was always something off. Too much sugar. Not enough fiber. Long ingredient lists. Or no real substance at all.

So Caroline and I started researching how to make something ourselves.

I wanted a pre-made bar I could take on the road—clean, filling, and honest.

After four or five batches of trial and error, we nailed it.

Caroline was picky. Simple tastes. But she could eat a GRITBAR any day.

That’s how I knew we were onto something.

Then she suggested coffee.

We partnered with a local roaster, and now every batch is made with fresh-roasted organic coffee beans from Costa Rica.

It wasn’t about building a brand.

It was about solving a real problem.

In June of 2025, I lost my wife.

Right as we were preparing to launch.

We had just fine-tuned the bars. Given out samples. Received incredible feedback. We were excited. Hopeful.

And then everything stopped.

Caroline had battled illness for two years. GRITBAR had become our way to still work together while she healed.

When she passed, my life spun out of control.

I was lost. I didn’t know how I was going to survive without her.

But faith carried me when motivation couldn’t.

My hope of seeing her again. Our beautiful children—who I love and live for every day. A supportive, loving community.

That’s what got me through.

God is good. We are blessed.

And though I still mourn her loss, I eventually picked up my bootstraps, got back on my horse, and kept going.

Big things are rarely built on giant, reckless leaps.

They’re built in the daily grind—the small, unglamorous tasks that slowly shape the bigger picture.

The real risks are taken in the mind first.

Then the work begins.

If you’re in a season where motivation is low, energy is thin, and the road feels long—hear this:

You don’t have to feel strong to keep going.

You just have to keep going.