The Strategic Stop: Why Quitting Takes Grit

There’s a tyranny in American culture around never quitting. We celebrate persistence. We lionize grit. We plaster “never give up” on motivational posters, journal covers and coffee mugs. And most of it is BS.

I’ve completed 15 marathons and a bunch of triathlons. I’ve run nonprofits for three decades. I’ve survived cancer twice. So believe me when I tell you: sometimes the smartest thing you can do is quit.

Not everything. Not often. But strategically, deliberately, and without guilt.

The problem with the “never quit” gospel is that it doesn’t distinguish between quitting on yourself and quitting for yourself. One is giving up when things get hard. The other is resource allocation. One is weakness. The other is strategy.

I quit playing golf 20 years ago in order to take up endurance sports. Best decision I ever made. Was that a failure of persistence? Should I have stuck with it because quitting is for losers?

Of course not. But somehow we’ve created this binary where quitting anything—a job, a project, a relationship, a goal—carries shame. We wear our commitments like badges of honor even when they’re actively harming us.

Here’s what I’ve learned: your time is the only non-renewable resource you have. Every hour spent on something that doesn’t advance you, serve you, or align with your actual priorities is an hour stolen from something that might.

The opportunity cost of persistence is real.

I see this constantly in nonprofit leadership. Board members who have stopped helping, but hang on because “I’ve always been involved.” Programs that continue year after year because “we’ve always done it this way,” even when outcomes are mediocre and resources scarce. Staff who remain in positions they’ve outgrown because leaving feels like failure.

The same dynamic plays out in endurance sports. I’ve watched athletes destroy their bodies chasing times that no longer matter to them, staying in clubs or training groups that have become toxic, signing up for races they don’t want to do because “I said I would.”

The academic term is sunk cost fallacy. The honest term is staying in a bad situation because you've already invested in it—which, when you say it out loud, sounds as ridiculous as it is.

So, how do you know when to quit?

First, get honest about why you’re still doing it. If the answer is “because I started it” or “because people expect me to” or “because I said I would”—those aren’t reasons. Those are excuses masquerading as integrity.

Second, run the opportunity cost calculation. What could you be doing with that time, money, or energy instead? Not in some vague “self-care” sense, but concretely. What specific thing would create more value—for you, for others, for whatever matters to you?

Third, separate identity from activity. You are not your job. You are not your training plan. You are not your commitments. Those are things you do, not who you are. The faster you internalize this, the easier strategic quitting becomes.

Here’s the framework I use:

Ask yourself three questions:

1. Does this align with my current priorities and values?

2. Is this producing results worth the investment?

3. Am I continuing because it serves me or because stopping feels uncomfortable?

If the answers are no, no, and “it feels uncomfortable,” you have your answer.

The beauty of strategic quitting is that it clears space for things that actually matter. For opportunities you can’t see yet because you’re too busy white-knuckling commitments you made years ago under different circumstances.

Grit matters. Persistence matters. But knowing when and how to reallocate your resources matters more.

The goal isn’t to finish everything you start. The goal is to achieve outcomes that matter. Sometimes that requires grinding through difficulty. Sometimes it requires the wisdom to stop.

Learn the difference. Your future self will thank you.