75 Days Hard Challenge: Discipline or Delusion?

Somewhere between the pandemic self-optimisation wave and TikTok’s taste for aesthetic transformation lies the 75 Hard Challenge—a punishing 75-day program where discipline is the product and self-worth is earned through sweat, abstinence, and a lot of hydration.

It’s not a workout plan, exactly. Nor is it a diet. The man behind the movement, Andy Frisella—a supplement entrepreneur who speaks in Joe Rogan-isms and capitalist grit—calls it a mental toughness program. “An Ironman for your brain,” he says. And his brain, clearly, runs on no cheat meals, no alcohol, two workouts a day, ten pages of nonfiction, and precisely one gallon of water. Every day. For 75 days. If you slip up once, you go back to Day 1. No exceptions. No ‘life happens’ clause.

But the question isn’t whether it’s popular—it’s why. Why are thousands of people voluntarily signing up for a militarised routine that leaves no room for failure?

What It Actually Involves—And Why People Do It

Here’s the rulebook:

• Two 45-minute workouts (one must be outdoors, no matter the weather)
  

• Follow a strict diet—your choice, but no alcohol or cheat meals
  

• Drink one gallon of water daily
  

• Read 10 pages of nonfiction
  

• Take a progress photo every day
  

And if you miss one task? Well, you start over.

The rigidity is the point. Frisella’s philosophy is binary: either you’re disciplined, or you’re not. And for a certain type of person—especially one overwhelmed by options or seeking a clean break from bad habits—this clarity can be magnetic. You don’t have to negotiate with yourself or make small decisions. You just follow the rules.

People who’ve completed it often say the physical transformation is secondary. It’s about building trust with yourself—showing up when no one’s watching. And in that sense, it’s not so different from running a marathon, quitting alcohol, or deleting dating apps for Lent. Structured discomfort can be powerful. So can finishing something hard just because you said you would.

The Good: The Structure And Sobriety

It’s easy to roll your eyes at the hustle-core posturing, but there are upsides to 75 Hard—particularly in its discipline-first framework. Done with intention, the program can help people establish boundaries, break dependence on vices, and feel more in control of their routines. The rules, however extreme, force you to prioritise physical and mental upkeep in a way most people don’t.

There’s also something to be said for the reading requirement. While Instagram transformations are all six-packs and sweaty selfies, 750 pages of nonfiction is a subtle but meaningful part of the challenge. It slows you down. It asks you to reflect. That combination—of embodied intensity and daily introspection—isn’t common in a world of dopamine-chasing short cuts.

Then there’s the community. Say what you want about social media accountability, but maybe public commitment can be a powerful motivator. For many, the shared struggle becomes part of the appeal—a DIY rite of passage with a digital tribe of people doing something hard on purpose.

The Problem: Extremes Are Easy to Sell, But Hard to Sustain

And yet. There’s a fine line between discipline and disordered thinking. What makes 75 Hard so compelling—its inflexibility, its all-or-nothing stakes—is also what makes it potentially risky. Miss a workout on Day 62? You label yourself as someone who’s “failing.” Eat a single chip? And you’re back to the beginning. The psychological impact of such binary thinking can be especially harmful for people with perfectionist tendencies, past issues with food, or a tendency to tie self-worth to achievement.

In fact, doctors have raised concerns about the program’s suitability for the average person. Two-a-day workouts with no rest days aren’t sustainable for most bodies. A gallon of water a day isn’t safe for everyone. And the underlying philosophy—life is pain, and only mental fortitude will save you—feels less like health advice and more like a Red Bull-sponsored TED Talk.

There’s also the quiet danger of what happens next. One common refrain from participants is that, once it’s over, they crash. Junk food binges. Exhaustion. Existential confusion about what to do now that the rules are gone. It’s the pendulum swing effect: if you train your body to associate success with punishment, where does that leave you on Day 76?

So… Should You Try It?

Here’s the honest answer: probably not in its purest form. But the impulse behind 75 Hard—the desire to regain control, to feel sharper, lighter, stronger—is valid. If you’re someone who thrives on rules, who wants a reset, and has the physical and mental space for intensity, go for it (after talking to your doctor, and maybe your therapist). But if your life already feels like a balancing act, maybe don’t add a full-time discipline job to the pile.

Instead, take the spirit of the thing and scale it down. Try 75 Soft. Or make up your own rules. Maybe it’s 45 Medium. Or 30 Focused. What matters isn’t the hashtag—it’s the consistency. And if all else fails, drink more water and go for a walk. It’s less viral, sure, but sometimes sanity beats self-improvement theatre.