I was a little under the weather this past weekend, which meant I did something I don’t always give myself permission to do: I slowed down.

And, naturally, I ended up on the couch watching an entire Netflix documentary about Rafael Nadal.

Holy smokes.

I knew Rafa was one of the greatest tennis players in the world. I knew about the Grand Slam titles, the records, the clay courts, the incredible intensity.

What I didn’t fully appreciate was everything it took to become Rafa.

The injuries. The setbacks. The pain. The doubt. The pressure. The countless hours of training. The physical toll his body endured over and over again.

And yet, he kept showing up.

But what struck me most wasn’t his physical toughness.

It was his heart.

To watch him compete was to watch someone put his entire heart on the line. There was no halfway in. No protecting himself from disappointment. No playing it safe just in case he lost.

He cared that much.

He wanted it that much.

And when you care that much, you are also giving life the opportunity to break your heart.

That got me thinking about my own life.

We spend a lot of time training our bodies. We work out, lift weights, stretch, run, walk, eat better, sleep more (at least we try). We understand that if we want to be physically strong, we have to exercise.

We also exercise our minds. We read, learn, challenge ourselves, solve problems, take classes, try new things.

But what about our hearts?

What would it look like if we trained our hearts the way Rafa trained his body?

What if we practiced being brave enough to care deeply?

To love without knowing exactly how it will turn out?

To pursue something even when failure is a possibility?

To let ourselves be disappointed without deciding we’ll never try again?

To keep our hearts open even after they’ve been bruised?

Because here’s the thing about having your heart on the line: you might lose.

You might get hurt. You might get rejected. You might give everything you have to something and it still doesn’t work out.

That’s the risk.

But maybe that’s also the point.

A protected heart may be less likely to get crushed, but I’m not sure it’s capable of experiencing the full depth of joy either.

There is something incredibly powerful about watching someone give everything they have to something they care about. Rafa reminded me that greatness isn’t just about talent or discipline or physical ability.

It’s about heart.

And maybe our hearts are the strongest muscles we have.

Not because they can’t be broken.

But because they can be broken and still keep beating.

So this week, I’m thinking about what it would mean to train all three: my body, my mind and my heart.

To make my body stronger.

To make my mind sharper.

And to make my heart braver.

Because maybe the goal isn’t to build a heart that can’t be crushed.

Maybe it’s to build one that’s strong enough to risk being crushed—and open enough to love, try, hope and live anyway.

XX,

MG