I got 31 days into 75 Hard. That's truly all I could manage
Here’s why you shouldn’t feel bad if you ‘failed’ to complete it too.
When impulsively approaching my editor to pitch trying 75 Hard, I was bright-eyed, full of beans – and utterly deluded.
I’d (foolishly) believed myself up to the task, having possessed a stubborn single-mindedness that, in theory, should have lent itself well to smashing it out of the park. But today, in my post-trial, battle-worn state, I can see the notoriously gruelling fitness fad for exactly what it is: dangerous.
As I pushed myself to meet 75 Hard's requirements, I was consumed by burnout. Charlotte Thieme
My 75 Hard journey had begun with the split-second decision to broach the topic – and I paid dearly for that fateful pitch approximately 31 times over.
That is to say, after 31 long, arduous days, I finally threw in the towel – and to reach that point in my ill-fated fitness odyssey proved a struggle of epic proportions.
The premise of 75 Hard: A Tactical Guide to Winning the War with Yourself is to cultivate “mental toughness” through a five-step checklist repeated daily for – you guessed it – 75 days.
For me, it largely succeeded in cultivating mental anguish.
What is 75 Hard?
With absolutely no wiggle-room for compromise nor substitution, each participant is required to adhere to the following requirements for the duration of the program:
Follow a Diet: Maintain a structured eating plan of your choice (no cheat meals, no alcohol allowed).
Two Workouts: Complete two 45-minute workouts daily, one of which must be outdoors.
Drink Water: Consume one gallon (approx. 3.79 litres) of water per day.
Read 10 Pages: Read 10 pages of a non-fiction, self-help or educational book (audiobooks do not count).
Progress Picture: Take one daily photo of your progress throughout the program.
The real kicker? If you miss even one of these tasks on any given day, your progress unforgivingly resets to zero.
The 75-day timeframe, according to entrepreneur and program founder Andy Frisella, is the exact period required to integrate the tedious tasks into long-term behaviours.
“That is how long it will take for you to develop these skills… skills that will stick with you long after you’ve completed the program,” Frisella enthusiastically claims on the official website.
Why did I even attempt this?
I’d been fuelled by the combination of a strict “no junk food or Uber Eats” diet, sheer spite – and a bitter vendetta against one particularly overzealous goalkeeper.
I threw myself into regular workouts after an almost year-long recovery period. Charlotte Thieme
Following a 100 per cent preventable midair netball collision – and the landing that would render me temporarily immobile – I had succumbed to listlessness.
In the blink of an eye, the fitness routine I’d consistently maintained for over 10 years had been derailed – and with this came inevitable changes to my body that I’d been utterly ill-prepared for.
Keeping up with the 'two workouts a day' rule proved challenging. Charlotte Thieme
The physique I’d spent the better part of a decade maintaining rapidly morphed into one I barely recognised – and from a vulnerable position, the concept of a glorified 75-day crash diet that would reset my relationship with my body sounded like a godsend.
I had been so effectively influenced by the program’s promise of “winning the war against yourself” that I threw myself in the deep end – after months of very minimal exercise – in an attempt to get my fitness back to where it had been pre-injury.
But in doing so, I set myself on a dangerous path that, in hindsight, I should have foreseen.
While speaking to exercise physiologist Laith Cunneen, my reasons for attempting the program were immediately flagged.
Laith Cunneen shared his candid thoughts on the 75 Hard program. Laith Cunneen
“If the motivation is mainly body dissatisfaction, self-punishment or proving you can force yourself through discomfort, it may be worth considering a more supportive goal,” Cunneen sagely advised.
He went on to pointedly note the framework was not recommended for people with previous injuries – a fact I’d most certainly missed the memo on.
A ‘problematic’ framework
Right off the bat, 75 Hard presents a perfect case study for how traditional diets have been wrapped up and resold to the masses under the guise of “wellness programs”.
With its rigid rules, a fixation on food restriction and the promotion of an extreme exercise schedule, it walks like a duck, and it quacks like a duck.
To be perfectly clear: At the end of the day, 75 Hard is a diet disguising itself as a wellness program – and a concerning unhealthy one at that.
Ultimately, it proved a slippery slope for someone who had previously struggled with disordered eating, exacerbating issues I’d believed long gone.
The strict ‘no rest days’ approach, on the other hand, goes against every aspect of exercise physiology in the book.
It’s a cardinal rule of fitness training that muscles require rest to rebuild – and continuous high-load workouts yield nothing save for overtraining syndrome, immune suppression and, in worst cases, overuse injuries.
The all-or-nothing mentality associated with the format promotes a “perfect or restart” philosophy, where missing a single task instils a damaging cycle of restriction, failure and, in my case, an inevitable crash out.
Cunneen similarly labelled the framework associated with 75 Hard as “problematic.”
Elements of the program were positive additions to my life, while others proved damaging. Charlotte Thieme
“Missing a workout because you’re sick, injured, exhausted or dealing with life isn’t the same as failing,” he was quick to point out.
“Sustainable behaviour change needs some flexibility.”
The reality was, I was constantly tired. I was constantly aching. I was constantly wondering what had possessed me to pitch this godforsaken idea in the first place.
Moreover, nothing I’d heard from word of mouth had prepared me for the epiphany 75 Hard operates in a manner shockingly parallel to disordered eating.
On this point, Cunneen agreed.
“The program includes several features that can overlap with disordered eating or compulsive exercise patterns: strict food rules, limited flexibility, daily progress photos, two workouts a day and a restart penalty for any deviation,” he said.
“For someone with a current or past eating disorder, or disordered eating tendencies, those elements could be problematic.”
The hard-line dieting with no cheat days was an unhealthy approach, however it did encourage me to get creative with my cooking. Charlotte Thieme
What’s more, contrary to popular belief, the ‘program’ does not boast any form of scientific backing.
Upon searching extensively for any elements rooted in sport nutrition or exercise science, I came up with zilch. Even founder Andy Frisella himself has obtained none of the required academic credentials you’d expect from an individual building a fitness program.
And according to Cunneen, the notoriously hardline rules of 75 Hard are arbitrary.
“There’s nothing magical about that exact combination [of rules], and you can choose a routine that’s safer, more sustainable, and better suited to your actual life.”
While Cunneen admitted individual components like exercising or cutting alcohol have proven health benefits, the program’s strict design largely conflicts with evidence-based practices.
“A more evidence-based approach would include regular aerobic activity, two or more resistance training sessions each week, enough recovery, adequate sleep, and a flexible eating pattern that includes protein, fibre and mostly minimally processed foods,” he said.
“I’d also add one or two non-exercise habits that genuinely support your life. Reading is a great option, but it could just as easily be meditation, drawing, writing, or another habit that gives you a sense of progress.
“It won’t sound as dramatic as 75 Hard, but it’s much more likely to create lasting change.”
My verdict
In many ways, over the course of 31 gruelling days, I found 75 Hard to be the direct antithesis of progress − and to prove you can subject yourself to disordered fitness behaviours to build “mental toughness” is not the approach anyone should be taking.
In short: Prioritising compliance over sustainable integration into daily life just to prove you ‘can’ is potentially the biggest time-waster there is.
If a program only works when life is perfect and motivation is high, it’s unlikely to last. In my case, it’s far more likely to compound the problems you’re seeking to solve.
Life is messy. Routine is often imperfect, and a structure that can be maintained through busy weeks, social events, illness and stress is one that will yield the most positive long-term results.
At the end of the day, I didn’t even make it halfway through the program. But if I could take those meagre 31 days back and save myself the trouble, I certainly would.
Anyone needing support with eating disorders or body image issues is encouraged to contact the Butterfly National Helpline on 1800 33 4673 (1800 ED HOPE) or support@butterfly.org.au. You can also call the Eating Disorders Victoria Helpline on 1300 550 23 or Lifeline on 13 11 14 for urgent support.
