The saying is, “Work smart, not hard.”

Really?

Have you ever trained for a race by thinking about it?

I haven’t.

I’m not an elite runner. Never was. My runs are hard. I’m still not particularly fast, but that’s beside the point. That’s how I get better.

I was on vacation recently. Frustrated by a piriformis injury that had limited my running. The hotel had an elliptical. Perfect.

An hour on the elliptical. Fast pace. Great workout. Sweating like crazy.

Then off to the parks.

Six hours of walking. Fast walking. Weaving through crowds. Passing all those overweight laggards who looked like they were ready to collapse.

Smart? Not exactly.

The next morning my calves were immobile. Tight as piano wires. I could barely flex my feet. Walked like an Egyptian.

Lesson learned.  I need an elliptical.

Who knew it worked different muscles than running?

Well, now I do.

Hard work. Not smart work.

At least until the lesson kicks in. Literally.

The funny thing is people always tell you to work smarter.

Take Excel.

Have you ever learned a new formula just reading the instructions?

Or even watching a YouTube video?

That’s the smart way.

The problem is I don’t remember any of it.

I watch the video. Looks easy.

I read the instructions. Makes perfect sense.

Then I open a real spreadsheet. Nothing.

Back to old faithful. Trial and error.

Try it. Fail. Try it again. Fail. Try it a third time.

Eventually it works.

An hour later I could have done the calculation on a calculator faster.

But that’s not the point.

The hard work is the point.

That’s where the learning happens.

The same thing applies to vacations.

People tell me all the time:

“You’re stressed. You need a vacation.”

You don’t understand.

I can’t take vacations.

Sitting around doing nothing is not relaxing.

My mind has other plans.

Racing thoughts. Worries. Problems. Scenarios. Endless conversations that never happened.

You want a vacation for a Type A workaholic?

Try Disney. You’ll hate it.

Long lines.  Crowds. Heat. Humidity. Five-year-olds melting down. Parents overheating. Lightning Lane fees that look like highway robbery.

Perfect.

The resilient save money.

Wait thirty minutes. Then forty-five. Then sixty. Then ninety. Then the ride goes temporarily down.

Now you’re standing in 100-degree heat wondering why those people carrying umbrellas suddenly seem much smarter than you.

Maybe one of those little fans too.

Would smart have been better?

Absolutely.

Buy the umbrella. Buy the fan. Buy the Lightning Lane. (‘Only’ $20 marginal cost per ride?) Or maybe just skip Disney entirely.

But that misses the point.

The hard work is the journey.

The smart work comes later.

After you’ve stood in enough lines to understand the value of shade and the ROI on Fast Pass.

After you’ve destroyed your calves on an elliptical.

After you’ve broken enough spreadsheets to finally understand the formula.

We like to pretend smart work beats hard work.

Sometimes it does.

But most of the smart people I know got that way through hard work first.

The runner learns through injuries.

The accountant learns through mistakes.

The executive learns through failures.

The parent learns through regrets.

Experience is just hard work that has already paid tuition. 

Which is also why reading matters. Why pay full tuition if someone else has already made the mistake?

The trouble is some lessons don’t really stick until they happen to you.

I can read all I want about overworked calf muscles. 

Walking like an Egyptian is apparently how I prefer to learn it.

That’s why Disney actually works as a vacation for me.

Not because it’s relaxing.  It’s not. It’s exhausting.

But for one day I’m not thinking about office politics, organizational dysfunction, bad decisions, forecasts, budgets, or whatever problem is waiting on Monday morning.

I’m too busy planning the next sprint to shade.

Different hard work. Same brain.

And like the old joke about hitting yourself in the head with a hammer because it feels so good when you stop, there is something strangely satisfying about it.

The calves eventually loosen up.

The spreadsheet eventually balances.

The Disney line eventually ends.

And the lesson remains.

Hard work doesn’t beat smart work.

Hard work creates smart work.

First comes the effort.

Then comes the lesson.

Then, if you’re lucky, comes the wisdom.