I love The Man in the Arena quote from Teddy Roosevelt. It was delivered in Paris in 1910, yet it feels like one of those pieces of wisdom that will forever be relevant.

The actual meaning of the speech had more to do with citizenship in a republic than the defiant “F YOU” to critics that most people latch onto today. It’s really just half a paragraph from a considerably longer speech. Yet it struck a particularly American note in the Paris of the 1910s, and it remains one of the more remembered quotes from a man who gave us a lot of memorable words.

In My Head Lately

I’ve been in my head a lot lately. It’s not typically a place I like to hang out. I worry by nature. I obsess over little things that probably don’t matter. So I’ve put up what a therapist would likely call “walls”—but I call them systems. Systems to minimize the worrying and redirect my focus to things that actually matter. More importantly, things I can control.

I’m a wannabe stoic with a brain that’s decidedly not.

That Fella in the Arena

Back to the guy in the arena. I said I love the quote—and I do. So much so that I’ve dedicated an entire wall in my training room to it. It’s pretty cool, if you ever stop by.

If you’re unfamiliar with it, here it is:

“It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles,
or where the doer of deeds could have done them better.
The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena,
whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood;
who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again,
because there is no effort without error and shortcoming;
but who does actually strive to do the deeds;
who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions;
who spends himself in a worthy cause;
who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement,
and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly,
so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.”

The opening is the “F YOU,” sure—but so is the close. Don’t forget the close, you cold and timid sissy.

The Part People Miss

Where I think most people miss the mark is in the struggle. The screwing up. The quote isn’t about being some mighty, victorious warrior. It’s not about crushing your critics under the weight of your success. In fact, only one line in the whole thing is about success.

The rest? It’s about the fight. The error. The getting-bloody-and-dusty part. It’s about screwing up, getting back up, and becoming stronger for it.

Teddy knew a thing or two about that. He was flawed—physically from birth. He failed at several business ventures. People hammered his policies as President. But no one—no one—would dare call Teddy Roosevelt a cold or timid soul.

The Critic (Then and Now)

Today, this quote makes me reflect on two things.

First, the critic. The critic is all-encompassing. There’s the critic within, and then the endless lineup of keyboard quarterbacks, gossipers, and cowards who, in a better time, would’ve caught a punch in the mouth for the kind of nonsense they now say online or behind your back.

There’s a great quote by Conan the Barbarian author Robert E. Howard that goes something like: “The more civilized a society becomes, the more impolite it also becomes—because no one’s going to split your skull with a club anymore.”

Some critics are real. Others are imagined. That’s a whole psychology discussion for another day. The point is, the critic of 1910 has evolved. They’re more immediate, more invasive, and far more powerful today. And if you’re going to choose the arena—you better be ready for that.

The Struggle (and Defining the Win)

Second, the struggle. I love that this quote spends nearly all its time on the struggle. It even ends with what amounts to, “Well, if you don’t win, at least you didn’t go out like a bitch.”

So, the question I’m sitting here asking myself today is: What is the win?

Don’t get me wrong—I believe in celebrating the little wins. You can’t be all fight, all the time. But maybe I need to start redefining what a win looks like. Maybe, in corporate-speak, the win answers the question: What would success look like?

Maybe that’s the framework that defines the struggle. Maybe that’s how I decide how much blood, sweat, and dirt I’m willing to earn in the arena.

Or… maybe it doesn’t.

Worth It on Principle

There are certain things—just like Teddy’s citizen in the ideal republic—that are simply worth the fight on principle. Whether there’s a clear “win” or not.

And maybe all of this also reframes how I think when I start being too much of a critic myself.

Because God forbid I ever become one of those cold and timid souls.