Why I Read Can’t Hurt Me
I first heard about Can’t Hurt Me from a guy in the unit who passed it to me and said, “You’ll like this—it’s about a dude who teaches himself to suffer on purpose.” I was skeptical at first. I’ve read a lot of self-help books over the years, and most of them promise quick fixes and cheap motivation. But after the first few chapters, I realized Goggins was different.
I didn’t read this book to be entertained—I read it because I needed to reconnect with something deep inside me: the part of me that’s still a fighter.
Goggins didn’t sugarcoat anything. His life started hard—poverty, abuse, racism—and it didn’t get any easier. But instead of folding, he chose to embrace pain. He trained his body and mind to do things most people would consider impossible. And in that, I saw a reflection of something I’ve been trying to rediscover in myself: discipline, ownership, and purpose—even when life feels unfair.
I read Can’t Hurt Me because I needed a reminder that what happens to us doesn’t define us—what we do next does.
What I Learned From Reading This Book
The biggest takeaway from Can’t Hurt Me is that we are capable of much more than we think—physically, mentally, and emotionally. Goggins introduces this concept of the “40% rule”—that when we feel like we’re maxed out, we’ve only tapped into about 40% of our potential. That idea hit me hard. Because looking back at my own life—both in business and in personal decisions—I know there were times I quit too early. Times I took the easier route. Times I coasted on talent instead of grinding through the uncomfortable.
This book taught me to rethink suffering. Goggins doesn’t see discomfort as something to avoid—he sees it as the path to freedom. He turns suffering into a tool. Whether it’s running 100-mile races on broken feet or pushing through Navy SEAL Hell Week three times, the man simply refuses to give up. He builds calluses on his mind the same way I used to build systems in my company: brick by brick.
That resonated with me deeply. I might not be running ultra-marathons in here, but I’m fighting a different kind of race—the slow, grinding erosion of identity and confidence that prison can inflict if you let it. Goggins reminded me that I get to choose my response. I can let this place break me down—or I can use it as training ground for what comes next.
He also stresses the importance of accountability—not blaming others, not hiding from your past. That message hit me right in the gut. I made a mistake. I bought firearms despite my old felony conviction. I didn’t plan well. I didn’t think far enough ahead. But no one forced me to do it. And owning that decision is the first step toward redemption.
How the Book Will Contribute to My Life Upon Release
Goggins helped me rebuild a mental framework that I’ve been slowly reconstructing since my arrest. This book won’t magically shorten my sentence, and it won’t change how the system works. But it does give me the tools to change how I work.
When I get out, I know there will be challenges. The stigma of a conviction. The uphill climb of starting again in my late 50s. The temptation to think, “I’ve already made it once—why start over?” But Can’t Hurt Me made me realize that the real victory isn’t about money or comfort. It’s about becoming the kind of man who faces difficulty and still moves forward.
I’ve already started incorporating Goggins’ approach into my day. I get up early. I write. I study. I mentor. I give myself challenges—not physical, but intellectual and emotional. I’m working on a new series of lesson plans for other men in here who want to build something meaningful from their time. That’s my new marathon.
On the outside, I intend to continue that work—whether through a nonprofit, a small business, or simply by mentoring younger men who haven’t yet learned how to push through adversity. I’ll remember what Goggins said: “Most people who are criticizing and judging haven’t even tried what you failed at.”
That line stays with me. Because I’ve failed. I’ve also succeeded. But the only thing that matters now is what I build next. And thanks to Can’t Hurt Me, I’m building it from the inside out—with grit, clarity, and ownership.
