Plan for failure, not just success

The Short Version

Across four Huberman Lab conversations, the same lesson keeps coming back: people who plan for what could go wrong keep going longer than people who only picture the win. NYU psychologist Dr. Emily Balcetis argues that a complete plan names its obstacles and has a plan B, C and D for each, and she points to Michael Phelps. His goggles filled with water in the 2008 Olympic 200 butterfly and he won anyway, because he had rehearsed exactly that failure [1]. Andrew Huberman goes further. He says visualizing success helps only at the start, and that "foreshadowing failure" all the way through is linked to "a near doubling in the likelihood that people will reach goals of any kind" [2][3]. Dr. Maya Shankar comes at it from the design side: build slack days into a goal and expect the mid-goal slump, so a missed day or a sagging week becomes part of the plan rather than proof the plan is broken [3][4]. The one real caveat also comes from Shankar. How you phrase the goal itself still matters, and goals framed as something to move toward are "on average more motivating" than goals framed as something to avoid [4].

Table of contents

What They Said

Emily Balcetis: the overlooked third step of goal setting

Balcetis, a professor of psychology at New York University whose lab studies motivation and goal completion, starts with a warning about the most popular goal tool there is: the vision board [1]. Dream boards and lists can help people work out what they want, which she admits is hard for many people. But research by her NYU colleague Gabriele Oettingen found that vividly imagining how great life will be once you reach a goal does not help you reach it [1]. The reason is physical. Normally the body gears up before effort, and systolic blood pressure rises "in anticipation of your body or your mind needing to do something, taking the first steps on a goal" [1]. Imagining success does the opposite. It puts you "psychologically in that space of a goal satisfied," blood pressure drops, and you "don't have the physiological resources at the ready to take the first step right now to do something about that" [1]. She calls it "a pretty monumental finding for motivation scientists": creating dream boards, vision boards or to-do lists "might actually backfire because it in and of itself is the creation of a goal and the satisfaction of the goal" [1]. Huberman adds a friend's theory in the same spirit. People who announce they will write a book get so much praise up front, with no risk of criticism, that they never write it [1].

Balcetis is careful not to overcorrect. "I'm not saying that people who enjoy a dream board creation should stop what they're doing," she says, and she rejects the idea of replacing dream boards with boards full of dread: "There's enough anxiety and fear in the world. We don't need to encourage more of it" [1]. Her point is that "the process of goal setting shouldn't stop with articulating what the goal is" [1]. A full process has three parts. First, define the goal. Second, make it concrete: "We need to break it down into more manageable goals, not just my tenure plan for myself, but my two week plan" [1]. Third, the part she says is "often overlooked or under appreciated," identified by Oettingen's group: "thinking about the obstacles that stand in your way of success. And that will actually help improve motivation in the long run" [1].

She admits this sounds backwards. People ask her, in effect, how thinking about "how hard it's going to be, all the ways that I'm going to fail" is supposed to "jazz me up" [1]. Her answer is that the value is in "coming up with a plan B, a plan C, plan D, in advance, of actually experiencing that" [1]. Her image for it: "If you were on a boat and the boat started to sink, that's not the time you want to start looking for life jackets. You already want to know where one is, so you can go to it right away" [1]. Her reasoning is about the state you will be in when trouble comes. "You may never experience that obstacle, but if you do, you're probably going to be shy on time, thin on resources, maybe experiencing an anxiety that hijacks your brain so you're not functioning at that optimal level of judgment decision making" [1]. So: "You want to already have like the snap next step in place so you can just hop to it" [1]. And: "We're not going to do our best thinking when we're in crisis mode. But we don't have to if we have used, if we have already used our resources in advance to come up with that plan B or that plan C" [1].

The Michael Phelps story

Balcetis's favorite example is Michael Phelps at the 2008 Beijing Olympics [1]. He had already won seven gold medals and needed only the 200 butterfly to do what no one had done: "when eight gold medals and a single Olympiad" [1]. The fly was his event. "This should have been, this should have been easy," she says [1]. But his goggles began leaking as soon as he dove in and soon filled with water, so he was swimming blind [1].

He didn't panic, because he and his coach had trained for exactly this. "He routinely practiced swimming with his goggles not fully secured on his face," and his coach "notoriously would rip the goggles off of his head, smash them on the ground for maybe dramatic effect or something so that he didn't even have any goggles possible to grab" [1]. Balcetis sums up the planning like this: "because he had foreshadowed that possibility and the solution with my goggles start to leak, then I will do in his case start counting my strokes" [1]. "He knew exactly how many strokes it would take from him to get from one end of the pool to the other. He started counting his strokes. He won that, he won that race" [1]. She adds that he went on to win 15 more gold medals in his career [1].

She knows most of us are not Olympians, but she thinks that makes the story more useful, not less. It shows "the importance and the motivational reasons why thinking about obstacles in advance, thinking about the ways the two, three, four ways that your plan might go awry is actually effective at helping us overcome the obstacle that might otherwise lead us to throw in the towel" [1]. The point is not only that Phelps had a backup technique. A problem that could have ended the race became a step he had already practiced.

Huberman uses the story to ask whether vision is really special, since Phelps won by counting, not by looking. Balcetis says it is. More of the brain is devoted to vision than to any other sense, and when sight and sound conflict, people trust what they see [1]. On counting, she says the right increment is personal. A beginner aiming for 100 jumping jacks does better with groups of 10, because near the end of each group "we need that extra little hedonic hit of pleasure of accomplishment, the micro dopamine rush that you might get by hitting another 10" [1]. Her rule of thumb: "We want to set a goal that will challenge us, but isn't impossible" [1].

Andrew Huberman: visualize success at the start, foreshadow failure throughout

In his solo episode on goals, Huberman builds Balcetis's work into a stronger claim [2]. He says the popular idea "that visualization and visualization of this big goal is the best way to achieve your goals" is not the case: "There's a much better approach to doing all this" [2]. Picturing the big win, a Super Bowl ring or eight gold medals, helps get pursuit started, but it is "a pretty lousy and maybe even counterproductive way" to keep it going [2]. When people vividly imagine their big goal, systolic blood pressure rises, but the effect quickly fades [2].

What keeps people moving, he says, is still visualization, just pointed the other way: "it turns out it's not about visualizing success, it's about visualizing failure" [2]. He cites the Balcetis lab and other labs comparing people who dwell on "that long-term goal and all the wonderful things associated with it" with people who think about "all the ways in which they could fail" [2]. He admits this goes against common advice: "Typically, we are told don't imagine failure, push failure out of your mind, only focus on success, fake it till you make it or it's a phrase that I absolutely hate, frankly, because it's not even clear what that means" [2]. His conclusion is blunt: "So foreshadowing failure turns out to be the best way to motivate toward goal pursuit. In fact, as I mentioned before, there's a near doubling in the likelihood that people will reach goals of any kind when they're constantly thinking about how bad it's going to be if they fail" [2].

He makes it concrete [2]. Say you commit to running five miles, four to seven days a week, before 8 a.m. Don't imagine how great you'll look and feel. Picture the negative health effects, your disappointment in yourself, and the morning when you wait until 7:30 and it's pouring rain [2]. That last picture is very close to Balcetis's obstacle planning: a specific, likely point of failure, seen ahead of time. He also says that "the more specific you can get by writing down or thinking about or talking about how bad it will be if you don't achieve your goals, the more likely you are to achieve those goals" [2].

Huberman heads off a misreading, too. "I'm not interested in encouraging people to flagellate themselves. I'm encouraging people to achieve their goals" [2]. He separates imagining failure from seeing yourself as a failure: "we need to predict and visualize failure, but that is not the same thing as thinking about ourselves as failing" [2]. If you constantly think of yourself as failing, he warns, "then indeed we are not going to turn out much dopamine" [2]. So he pairs foreshadowing failure with regular self-reward: "anticipate and think about failure as a mechanism of generating motivation and indeed fear and anxiety so that you lean into the correct behaviors and you lean away from the incorrect behaviors to reach your goal. But then weekly or so, whatever you can maintain consistently, you absolutely want to reward yourself cognitively by telling yourself I'm on the right track" [2]. His own example is 150 to 200 minutes of zone 2 cardio a week. If he hits it, he checks a box and tells himself he's on track [2].

He says this finding surprised him. "Third, foreshadow failure. This is a somewhat surprising one to me. I would have anticipated that imagining success is the way to go" [2]. His wrap-up keeps a small role for positive imagery: "imagining success and visualizing success can be useful at the outset of a goal, and maybe every once in a while, and pursue to that goal, but that it's not terrific for putting you in constant pursuit of that goal" [2].

Huberman's toolkit: success or failure, depending on the day

In a later toolkit episode that draws on his own deep dive and his conversations with Balcetis and Shankar, Huberman turns the idea into a daily check-in [3]. Before each work session, ask whether you want to do the work today. If you're motivated (he suggests a quick rating of six or seven out of ten), spend one to three, maybe five minutes picturing the good outcome and how you'll feel when you get there [3]. If you're not motivated (below about four out of ten), research shows positive visualization doesn't help. Spend those minutes picturing failure instead: how lousy you'll feel at the end of 12 weeks if you don't follow through [3]. Again he says this is not self-flagellation, and he sums it up: "So yes, indeed, there is a place for negative thinking" [3]. He also corrects a myth. Imagining something does not create the same brain state as actually experiencing it [3].

The same episode brings in failure-anticipation of a gentler kind. Huberman explains that learning needs uncomfortable but safe states of frustration, error and anxiety, which open the door to neuroplasticity. Knowing that frustration is the gateway to change lets your orbitofrontal cortex read those feelings as progress rather than a reason to quit [3]. His earlier episode backs this with a paper he describes, "the 85% rule for optimal learning," which found that learning is fastest when you succeed about 85 percent of the time and fail about 15 percent [2]. He treats errors as "an entry point for making the brain more plastic," and asks: "Why would the brain change at all if it's performing everything perfectly?" [2]. If you plan for about 15 percent failure, a failed attempt is simply part of the plan.

Maya Shankar: build the stumbles into the goal itself

Cognitive scientist Dr. Maya Shankar approaches the same problem through how goals are designed [4]. Several of her tools amount to planning for failure as part of the goal.

The clearest is slack. She suggests building in an emergency reserve, such as three get-out-of-jail-free days a month, so one miss doesn't make a perfectionist give up [4]. In her words, give yourself "three get-ed-ed-jail free cards. Three days where for whatever reason, it's okay that you didn't go to the gym. You got sick, maybe you have kids who got sick, you're just not feeling motivated. It doesn't really matter what the reason is" [4]. The key is the next line: "the important thing is that you're still a track to achieving your goal even if you miss those three days because you built them into the system" [4]. This is Balcetis's point in calendar form. Expect the setback, decide in advance what it means, and it stops being a reason to quit.

Her second tool is anticipating the "middle problem" [4]. Motivation is high at the start, rises again near the finish (the goal gradient effect), and sags in between. Since you can't get rid of middles, shorten them: a weekly goal has a middle of a day or two, while an annual goal has a slump that lasts months [4]. Huberman's toolkit expands on this [3]. The simplest remedy, he says, "is to acknowledge it to recognize that it's coming," so that when motivation drops, "perhaps even increased failure rates and you're not performing as well you're getting frustrated," you know "that that's a natural process that everybody experiences and just knowing that can sometimes allow people to move through that" [3]. Once again, a predicted slump is easier to get through than a surprise one.

Her third tool is to set goals in the state you'll be in when you pursue them [4]. Because of empathy gaps between our present and future selves, the Maya relaxing on the couch at 4 p.m. on a Sunday shouldn't commit the 6 a.m. Maya to daily gym sessions [4]. She describes a related habit in how we think about change: "when we anticipate what a change will be like in the future, we tend to imagine how our present-day selves will respond to that future change" [4]. Looking honestly at how your future self will actually feel is a way of seeing the obstacle before you meet it.

Her fourth point is about seeing failure up close among like-minded people. "We often don't see failure up close when it comes to people pursuing their goals," she says. But when we are around people who share our commitment and see "that they sometimes have those days where they fail or we have the vulnerability to show when we failed, that can actually increase our resolve that the goals that we are trying to achieve are actually possible" [4]. Seeing that failure is normal, in others and in yourself, makes it feel expected instead of final.

Shankar's counterweight: approach framing

Shankar also adds a real caveat. Drawing on Ayelet Fishbach's work, she explains that goals framed as approach goals (eat healthier foods, "enter a relationship") and goals framed as avoidance goals (avoid junk food, "avoid loneliness") feel different when you succeed [4]. "When you frame something in an approach orientation way, when you succeed, that success is met with feelings of pride and accomplishment. We find that it leads to a boost in motivation, boost endurance, boost perseverance" [4]. With avoidance framing, "success is met with feelings of calm and relief," like wiping your forehead: "Back to neutral" [4]. Avoidance goals are also hard to measure: "are you really tracking every time you're tempted by the chocolate to cookie and you don't actually eat it?" [4]. She doesn't rule fear out. "It is fine to frame goals in terms of avoidance. And actually sometimes it's just personality dependent. Like some people are more driven by fear or they need a lot more urgency to drive them. But it is important to know that the approach orientation is on average more motivating" [4].

She also stresses agency. People go to irrational lengths to keep control, even preferring their own judgment to a better-performing algorithm, so she suggests asking coaches and managers for a set of options so you own your targets [4]. "Nothing supplants that kind of intrinsic drive and the feeling that you own the success or the failure," she says [4].

Where They Agree, and Where They Don't

Where they agree

All three say that picturing the win alone is not enough to carry you through. Balcetis says goal setting "shouldn't stop with articulating what the goal is" [1]. Huberman says success imagery is "not terrific for putting you in constant pursuit of that goal" [2]. Shankar's toolkit (slack, shorter middles, setting goals in the right state) assumes that energy will dip and that misses will happen [4].

They also agree that the useful kind of failure-thinking is specific and planned ahead. Balcetis wants a plan B, C and D written out "in advance" [1]. Huberman says the more specific you are about how bad failure would be, "the more likely you are to achieve those goals" [2], and his rainy 7:30 a.m. morning is a precise scene, not a vague worry [2]. Shankar's three free days are built into the system before the first miss [4].

They agree that this is not about beating yourself up. Balcetis doesn't want to "encourage more" anxiety [1]. Huberman is "not interested in encouraging people to flagellate themselves" [2][3]. Shankar steers people away from harsh, fixed judgments of themselves toward gentler self-talk [4].

Finally, all three treat setbacks as a normal part of the path. Phelps had practiced goggle failure until it was routine [1]. Huberman calls errors an entry point for plasticity and suggests aiming for about 15 percent failure [2], and he describes the middle slump as "a natural process that everybody experiences" [3]. Shankar notes that seeing others fail "can actually increase our resolve" [4].

Where they differ

What kind of failure to picture. Balcetis and Shankar focus mostly on the practical side: which obstacles might come up and what you will do about each [1][4]. Huberman puts more weight on the emotional side: "you should be thinking mainly about how bad it's really going to get if you don't do it, how disappointing yourself you're going to feel" [2]. These can work together, since Huberman's rainy-morning scene is really an obstacle as well [2]. But Balcetis explicitly doesn't want to add more fear to the world [1], while Huberman explicitly uses "fear and anxiety" as fuel [2]. The difference comes from their starting points. Balcetis's model is about thinking clearly before a crisis. Huberman's is about the biology of arousal and the amygdala's place in the goal circuit [1][2].

Whether success imagery still has a job. Huberman's solo episode keeps success imagery for the outset and "maybe every once in a while" [2]. His toolkit makes it a daily choice: picture success when you're motivated and failure when you're not [3]. Balcetis's research suggests that vividly imagining success can drain readiness even at the start [1]. So the sources differ on how early, and how often, positive imagery helps.

What happens to blood pressure. In Balcetis's account, imagining a goal already met lowers blood pressure and leaves the body unready to act [1]. In Huberman's account, vividly imagining the big goal does raise systolic blood pressure, but the rise "quickly fades" [2]. Both arrive at the same practical advice, don't rely on success imagery to keep going, but they describe the body's short-term response differently.

Fear framing versus approach framing. This is the clearest tension. Huberman says fear drives action well because "the brain and body are much better at moving away from fearful things than towards things we want" [2]. Shankar reports that approach framing is "on average more motivating" and that avoidance success feels only like relief [4]. They are talking about slightly different things. Huberman means what you picture to get yourself moving on a given day. Shankar means how you word the goal itself. Shankar also says it can be "personality dependent" and that some people "are more driven by fear" [4], which fits Huberman's toolkit advice to use failure imagery mainly on low-motivation days [3]. Taken together: word the goal as something you move toward, and keep failure-foreshadowing as a tool for the hard days.

A smaller difference in numbers. The two summaries report Balcetis's ankle-weight study slightly differently. In Balcetis's own episode, people trained to narrow their attention moved "27% faster" [1]. In Huberman's solo episode, they got there 23 percent faster [2]. Both report 17 percent less perceived effort [1][2]. The difference doesn't change the conclusion, but readers who cite the study should check the paper Huberman names, "Keeping the goal in sight," published in Personality and Social Psychology Bulletin in 2020 [2].

Why It Works

Your thinking is worst in the moment of failure

Balcetis's main explanation is about thinking under pressure. When an obstacle hits, you are likely to be "shy on time, thin on resources, maybe experiencing an anxiety that hijacks your brain" [1]. Decisions made in that state are poor. Planning ahead moves the hard thinking to a calm moment, so in the crisis all you have to do is carry out "the snap next step" [1]. Phelps didn't have to invent stroke-counting while blind in the Olympic pool. He only had to recall it [1].

Imagined success feels like a goal already met

The reason positive fantasy falls short, according to Balcetis and Oettingen's research, is that the body treats a vividly imagined success partly as a real one. Blood pressure falls, the body relaxes, and the readiness to act drains away [1]. Huberman reports a related pattern: a brief boost from imagining the big goal that "quickly fades" [2]. Huberman and Balcetis also raise a social version of this, the praise you get for announcing a goal [1][3]. Huberman describes research showing that the positive feedback from telling people about a goal activates reward circuits that quickly fade and make it less likely you'll do the work [3].

The amygdala sits in the goal circuit

Huberman's neuroscience explanation starts with the circuit. Four areas handle every goal: the amygdala, the ventral striatum, the lateral prefrontal cortex and the orbitofrontal cortex [2]. The amygdala is involved because so much of what we do aims to avoid bad outcomes like embarrassment or financial ruin [2]. "The amygdala is one of the four core components of our goal setting and goal pursuit circuitry and there's no bypassing that" [2]. Foreshadowing failure works with that part of the circuit instead of against it.

Arousal and readiness

Huberman says part of the effect "almost certainly has to do with increases in systolic blood pressure and increases in readiness in your system when you imagine failure" [2]. In the toolkit he adds that thinking about failure engages the autonomic nervous system and releases epinephrine, norepinephrine and dopamine, which he calls the molecule of motivation, not of reward [3]. The same research program found that goals which are too easy don't engage the autonomic nervous system enough, and impossible goals don't raise systolic blood pressure because they don't feel real. Moderately hard goals produced a near doubling of the blood-pressure response and a doubling or more in the likelihood of keeping at it [2]. Setting a goal that you might fail at, but that you can reach, is itself a way of planning for difficulty.

We are built to avoid bad outcomes

Huberman also points to an asymmetry: "The brain and body are much better at moving away from fearful things than towards things we want. I wish I could tell you that wasn't the case but there is a true asymmetry in the way we are built" [2]. His evidence is "one trial learning": one bad experience, such as a food that made us sick, can rewire us, while good experiences rarely do so as strongly [2]. Picturing failure borrows some of that avoidance drive before any real failure happens.

Expecting setbacks changes what they mean

The third kind of explanation is about interpretation. Huberman says knowing that frustration is the gateway to change lets the orbitofrontal cortex, the part that compares how you feel now with how you expect to feel near the goal, treat frustration as progress [2][3]. The middle problem gets easier once you "recognize that it's coming" [3]. Shankar's slack days mean a missed session leaves you "still a track" [4]. The event is the same, but when it was expected it reads as a normal step, not a sign that the goal is out of reach.

Why reward still matters

Huberman explains why failure-thinking has to be balanced with reward. Dopamine drives motivation, and when an expected reward doesn't come, dopamine drops below baseline, which he calls the chemical essence of disappointment [2]. Rats depleted of dopamine still enjoy food but won't move even one body length to get it [2]. That is why he pairs foreshadowing failure with weekly cognitive self-reward [2]. In the toolkit he suggests random, intermittent rewards (flip a coin after each session) so the reward doesn't lose its effect [3].

Where It Applies, and Where It Doesn't

It applies to long, effortful goals with a middle. The sources focus on goals that take weeks or months, such as training, learning a language, writing a book or saving for retirement, where motivation predictably dips [2][3][4]. Balcetis says the midpoint is where people struggle most with any kind of goal [1], and Shankar and Huberman describe the middle problem across a single session, a week and a 12-week cycle [3][4].

It applies to setbacks you can predict. Phelps's goggles were a known risk in swimming, which is why he could rehearse them [1]. Huberman's rainy morning is a known risk in outdoor running [2]. Shankar's three free days cover illness, sick kids and flat days, which she says will happen [4]. The approach is strongest when you can name the failure ahead of time.

It applies on low-motivation days. Huberman's toolkit is specific: failure visualization is the tool for days you rate below about four out of ten. On motivated days, success visualization is fine [3]. Shankar agrees that fear-based framing suits some people and some moments [4].

It doesn't mean dwelling on failure or calling yourself a failure. All three draw this line [1][2][3]. Huberman warns that constantly thinking of yourself as failing lowers dopamine output [2]. Balcetis doesn't want to add more anxiety to the world [1]. Shankar links fixed, "I am bad" self-judgment to shame [4].

It doesn't replace approach framing or ownership. Shankar's evidence says the wording of the goal still matters: approach goals bring pride and more perseverance, avoidance goals bring only relief [4]. Owning your targets matters too [4]. Planning for failure works best as a layer on top of a well-worded goal that you chose yourself.

It doesn't mean you should drop dream boards. Balcetis is explicit that dream boards help you figure out what you want. They just shouldn't be the end of the process [1]. Huberman keeps success imagery for the start and for motivated days [2][3].

It depends on your circumstances. Huberman notes that how hard a goal feels shifts with sleep, stress and life crises, so goals need updating over time [2]. He also says a health crisis in your own life or a loved one's pulls attention away from goals altogether [3]. Balcetis says her tools haven't been studied directly for depression. Attention-retraining exercises can lift people slightly, she says, but "It doesn't cure depression" [1]. If anxiety, low mood or a health condition is part of the picture, get a professional's advice before using fear-based visualization as a motivational tool.

What To Do With It

1. Finish goal setting with three parts, not one. After you define the goal, break it into a two-week plan and then list the obstacles that could stop you, as Balcetis recommends [1]. Write it on paper by hand, which Huberman says engages the nervous system differently from typing [3].

2. Write a plan B, C and D for each obstacle. For every obstacle, write the "snap next step" you'll take, so you aren't making decisions while "shy on time, thin on resources" [1]. Phelps's version was simple: if the goggles leak, count strokes [1].

3. Rehearse the failure, not just the fix. Phelps trained with loose goggles, and his coach sometimes took them away entirely [1]. Where you can, practice under the conditions you fear, such as a missed alarm, bad weather or a broken tool, so the backup plan becomes automatic.

4. Rate your motivation before each session and choose your imagery. Around six or seven out of ten: spend one to five minutes picturing success. Below about four: spend those minutes picturing how you'll feel at the end of 12 weeks if you don't follow through [3]. Make it specific, like Huberman's 7:30 a.m. downpour [2].

5. Keep failure-thinking separate from calling yourself a failure. Picture the consequences of not acting, but don't label yourself as failing [2]. Once a week, if you're on track, reward yourself cognitively by telling yourself "I'm on the right track" [2], or use Huberman's coin-flip method to make rewards intermittent [3].

6. Build in slack days. Give yourself about three get-out-of-jail-free days a month for illness, sick kids or low motivation, so a miss leaves you on track "because you built them into the system" [4].

7. Expect the middle and cut it into pieces. Know that motivation will dip in the middle of a session, a week or a 12-week cycle [3][4]. Break it into three or four chunks (for example minutes 25 to 45 of an hour), or into back-to-back 15-minute blocks on a sagging Wednesday, and add a 30- to 60-second visual-target focus drill when you need it [3]. Shorten long goals into weekly ones so the middles stay short [4].

8. Word the goal as something to move toward, and keep fear for the hard days. Follow Shankar: eat healthier foods, not avoid junk food, because approach goals bring pride and more perseverance and are easier to measure [4]. Save failure imagery for the days you need a push [3][4].

9. Aim for goals you might fail at, but can reach. Choose goals that are moderately hard, just beyond your current ability. In the research Huberman describes, these did better than both easy and impossible goals [2]. For learning, aim to fail about 15 percent of the time [2]. Use Balcetis's rule: "We want to set a goal that will challenge us, but isn't impossible" [1].

10. Be around people who show their setbacks. Spend time with people who share the goal and who are open about their bad days, since seeing failure up close "can actually increase our resolve that the goals that we are trying to achieve are actually possible" [4].

Sources

1. Dr. Emily Balcetis: Tools for Setting & Achieving Goals · Huberman Lab
2. The Science of Setting & Achieving Goals · Huberman Lab
3. Goals Toolkit: How to Set & Achieve Your Goals · Huberman Lab
4. Dr Maya Shankar How To Shape Your Identity Goals · Huberman Lab