In early fall, my brother and I tentatively planned an epic rock climbing trip for the end of February. In order to be as prepared as possible, I put together a training plan to improve the characteristics I’d need on the climb.
The plan
The plan itself wasn’t extreme, but it did include several different sessions spread throughout the week. The primary training included:
- Kettlebell snatches and clean & jerks (endurance with a strength and power component)
- Weighted pull-ups (pulling strength)
- Fingerboard sessions (grip strength & endurance)
- Indoor climbing (grip strength & endurance; sport-specific skill practice)
- Brazilian jiu jitsu (general endurance; grip strength & endurance; strength & endurance in odd positions)
- Rucking (general and leg endurance)
The final piece of the training plan was a very simple and easy “primer” that I planned to do every day, no matter what. It included 10 pull-ups, 20 push-ups, and 30 bodyweight squats.
I labeled it “10 + 20 + 30” in my training log.
The main purpose of this primer protocol wasn’t physical. It was mental.
Doing those movements every day was meant to serve as both a reminder of my goal and a small motivation boost. The idea was that once I did something, I’d be far more likely to follow through on whatever the more demanding training was for that day. Any physical benefit from the daily volume was a bonus.
The wrinkle
Everything went smoothly for about a month. I was performing better during climbing and jiu jitsu sessions and feeling stronger and generally more capable across the board.
Then, during what should have been an easy session—and during a week when I had intentionally reduced my training volume—I tweaked my left triceps enough to make most of the exercises in my plan painful to perform.
Just like that, pull-ups were out. Kettlebell snatches and clean & jerks were out. I skipped jiu jitsu for a couple weeks and dramatically scaled back climbing.
At that point, it would have been easy to feel sorry for myself—because even coaches find training setbacks mentally challenging—and set the program aside entirely until I fully healed.
Instead, I shifted my focus to what I could do.
Snatches and clean & jerks became two-hand swings. Pull-ups became inverted rows when I was at the gym and extra push-ups when I wasn’t. Climbing was kept very easy. Jiu jitsu returned gradually. Hiking stayed in the mix.
And every single day I still did some version of 10 + 20 + 30. Ten weeks after starting the program (and six weeks after the injury), I haven’t missed a day.
The payoff
What has surprised me the most about staying committed to 10 + 20 + 30 isn’t the physical carryover—though that’s certainly occurred—but how stabilizing this single daily commitment has been.
It’s made it easier to stay focused when other parts of the plan had to change, reduced the stress of “not doing everything”, and carried greater commitment into other areas of life, including work tasks, household chores, and my sleep schedule.
The takeaway here isn’t that you should do pull-ups, push-ups, and squats every day or that there’s even anything magical about the 10 + 20 + 30 format.
It’s that there’s a meaningful difference between being 99% and 100% committed to something. When the commitment is truly non-negotiable, the form it takes can change without breaking the habit. And that one non-negotiable behavior—something small, adaptable, and doable—can act as a catalyst for consistency everywhere else.
Putting it into practice
As we step into the new year, consider what tiny (preferably daily) habit aligns with your primary goal. Then commit or re-commit to doing it regardless of any other circumstance.
I’m confident that it will not only inch you toward your goal but also increase your motivation and dedication toward other goal-related actions—and potentially other areas of life as well.