Why you should burn all bridges behind you.
A lesson straight from Julius Caesar.
Many people don’t know this, but Julius Caesar was once a rebellious Roman.
Caesar first became a champion of the people by leading the Roman military towards the conquest of great foreign lands. He advocated for reforms of an aging Senate and, fearing his uprising, they demanded that he relinquished his army.
But Caesar refused and, instead, he marched straight to the heart of Rome. On the way, he had to cross the Rubicon river. No army had crossed the Rubicon with the intention to invade Rome in centuries.
One more step and Caesar would be considered a Senate’s traitor and the leader of a coup d’etat.
But Caesar and his army still walked through the river. After he crossed, Cesar told his generals to burn the bridge down immediately.
There was no way out but forward. “Alea Jacta Est,” he said — the dices are rolled. Rome would be the next stop.
History class aside, there’s a lot to learn from this story. I know Caesar’s actions sound very counterintuitive to us.
After all, aren’t we always told never to burn our bridges?
Backtrack a couple of years.
After a few months of misery, I decided to leave my high-paying job in the financial industry.
I didn’t care I was making 6 figures or that I was 20-years-old. I didn’t care everyone told me “how lucky” I was. I didn’t care about my MBA. I didn’t care at all — I was unhappy.
I called my mom on a Sunday night:
“Mom, I am going to quit my job tomorrow, and I’ll get on the first flight home ASAP.”
After realizing that I wasn’t going to change my mind, she begged me to…
“Please, stay in touch with the hiring manager. You never know.”
“Let me tell you something: I am never coming back here.”
I wanted to make money writing and, even I still didn’t really know how, I had no Plan B.
Backtrack six years now — to my first day as a freshman college-athlete.
Quick question: have you ever bench-pressed?
If you haven’t let me tell you what it’s all about: you lay down on a bench, grab a bar that can weight over 135 lbs, and push/pull up and down as many times as you can.
It’s such a hard dill that you usually have people behind you helping you in case you can’t bring it up again.
It’s basically hell. 🔥
What does this have to do with anything?
Well, during my first year as a college basketball year, this exercise taught me a huge lesson:
We give up way quicker when we have a plan B.
I realized something: when you are doing this by yourself, either you get the bar up, or it will crush your chest. When you have a teammate to help you, it doesn’t really matter because you’re safe.
Guess what happens?
You do more repetitions when your back is against the wall. It’s a matter of survival — no safety net to catch you if you fall.
What’s the takeaway?
I’ll be the first one to admit Caesar invading Rome, me quitting my job, and bench pressing have very few things in common. But there’s a lesson behind all these weird analogies:
Plan B’s make you comfortable. They let you sleep at night. They give you options. They calm you down.
But they stop you from fighting like if your life depended on it. There’s no “well, if this doesn’t work I can always go back to…” bullshit. There’s no other way.
When there are no bridges to go back, you either move forward, or you die.
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