Have you ever had someone tell you, “You could do that if you really wanted to”? Well, congratulations. You’ve just discovered the entire point. I don’t want to. Somewhere along the way, we’ve developed this peculiar idea that if a person possesses the ability to accomplish something, they should automatically have the desire to pursue it. But ability and desire are two entirely different things. And understanding that difference might explain why so many people spend their lives doing things they’re perfectly capable of doing but absolutely miserable doing.
The Five-Gallon Bucket
Imagine I hand you a five-gallon bucket. That bucket has the capacity to hold five gallons of water. We know that because that’s what it was designed to hold. Now suppose I only want to put two and a half gallons in it. Does the bucket suddenly lose half its capacity? Of course not. It still has the potential to hold five gallons. But unless I have a reason to fill it, it’s going to remain half empty. That’s the difference between capacity and desire.
Capacity determines what we potentially can do. Desire influences how much of that potential we’re willing to pursue. And then there’s will. Will is what moves us from wanting something to actually doing something about it. You can have the capacity without the desire. You can have the desire without the will. And you can have all three without necessarily having a good reason to pursue the objective. Which brings me to running.
Twenty-Six Miles of Absolutely Not
When I was younger, I was a pretty good athlete. Baseball, basketball, golf, volleyball, football. Most sports came naturally to me. I enjoyed some more than others, but I generally had the coordination and athletic ability to participate in whatever caught my interest. Could I have learned to play hockey? Probably. Did I want to? Not particularly. Soccer? I’m sure I could have developed the skills. But the thought of running up and down a field for 90 minutes just to finish with a score of 1–1 never sounded especially appealing.
And then there’s the marathon. Twenty-six point two miles. Now, if somebody tells me I need to travel 26 miles, my first question is going to be, “Where are the car keys?” No car? Fine. I’ll take a bicycle. No bicycle? I’ll walk. It might take me all day, but I’ll eventually get there. What I’m not going to do is voluntarily run 26 miles simply to prove that I can. Just because something is physically possible doesn’t mean it’s personally desirable. And just because someone else finds fulfillment in doing it doesn’t mean I should.
The Difference Between Can and Want
We frequently confuse ability with ambition. Someone demonstrates a natural talent, and immediately people start encouraging them to develop it. You’re good at mathematics? You should become an engineer. You’re good at arguing? You should become an attorney. You’re good with people? You should go into sales. You’re a good athlete? You should compete. But what if the person doesn’t want to?
What if someone has the intellectual ability to become an attorney but would rather teach elementary school? What if someone has the coordination to become an exceptional golfer but would rather spend Saturday afternoon fishing? What if someone is perfectly capable of managing a large organization but prefers working directly with people? Why do we automatically assume that pursuing the greatest possible achievement in a particular field is the correct choice? Potential creates opportunities. It doesn’t create obligations. And that distinction becomes particularly important when we consider our careers.
Being Good at Something Doesn’t Mean You Enjoy It
I’ve spent much of my professional life in security, investigations, management, and leadership. There are responsibilities I genuinely enjoy. I like analyzing information, solving problems, developing people, improving operations, and understanding how systems work. I enjoy taking something complicated and organizing it until the pieces fit together. But there are other responsibilities within those same professions that I have absolutely no desire to perform. Could I learn to become proficient at them? Probably. Would additional training and repetition improve my performance? Almost certainly. But here’s the question nobody seems to ask: Why would I want to spend years perfecting something I don’t enjoy when I could invest that same effort in something I find meaningful?
Now, every job involves responsibilities we don’t particularly enjoy. That’s part of being employed. Nobody gets to spend every working minute doing only what makes them happy. But there’s a difference between occasionally performing an unpleasant responsibility and building an entire career around activities that provide little personal satisfaction. And sometimes we’re so busy proving what we’re capable of doing that we forget to ask whether we actually want to do it.
The Other Side of the Equation
There’s another interesting aspect to this discussion. Sometimes the person with the greatest natural ability isn’t the person who achieves the greatest success. I’ve worked with people who had tremendous experience and technical knowledge but very little desire to improve. I’ve also worked with people who knew almost nothing when they started but possessed an extraordinary willingness to learn. Give me the second person. Skills can often be taught. Procedures can be learned. Experience can be developed. But the desire to improve has to come from somewhere within the individual.
You can provide opportunities, encouragement, training, and resources. You cannot simply manufacture another person’s desire. And that’s why I have always placed such importance on character and willingness when developing employees. Someone who genuinely wants to improve will often discover abilities they never realized they possessed. Someone who doesn’t care may never come close to realizing their potential. Capacity establishes the possibilities. Desire provides direction. Will produces action. But even then, there’s another question. Is the objective worth pursuing?
Not Every Mountain Needs to Be Climbed
We live in a culture that constantly encourages us to do more. Achieve more. Earn more. Become more. Reach your full potential. And there’s nothing inherently wrong with personal development. I’ve written books about it. But I think we’ve misunderstood something about reaching our potential. Reaching our potential doesn’t necessarily mean maximizing every ability we possess. It means making intentional decisions about which abilities deserve our time and attention.
I might have the capacity to climb a mountain. That doesn’t mean I need to climb every mountain I encounter. Sometimes I might prefer to sit at the bottom, enjoy the scenery, and have a sandwich. And there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that. The mountain will still be there tomorrow.
You Get to Choose
Ultimately, this entire discussion comes down to something I’ve believed and taught for years. You get to choose. You don’t necessarily choose every circumstance, every responsibility, or every opportunity that enters your life. You don’t always choose your natural abilities or limitations. But within those boundaries, you have choices about where you invest your effort. You can pursue something because you’re capable of doing it. You can pursue something because others expect you to. Or you can pursue something because it aligns with your values, interests, and purpose. Those decisions may lead to very different destinations.
And sometimes the wisest decision isn’t to demonstrate how much you’re capable of accomplishing. Sometimes it’s recognizing that you have absolutely no desire to accomplish something in the first place. Because at the end of the day, just because you can doesn’t mean you want to. And just because you don’t want to doesn’t mean you can’t. As for that marathon? I’ll meet you at the finish line. I’ll be the guy who drove there.
