Never Finished: Unshackle Your Mind and Win the War Within

“My voice cracked again. I couldn’t hold back the flood any longer. I closed my eyes and sobbed. Like a dream that only lasts seconds yet feels like hours, time stretched out and scenes from the ultimate turning point in my life—the last time I ever saw my father—colonized my mind. If I hadn’t taken that trip, you’d never have heard of me.”

In Chapter 1, Goggins receives the VFW’s Americanism Award for his patriotism. During his speech, he recalls the moment that sparked his transformation from an overweight, depressed 24-year-old to the honored military veteran behind the podium. Though occurring later in time, his sobbing narratively foreshadows the flashback that follows, creating intrigue. Likewise, his choice of words underscores the coming episode’s significance; he calls the event “the ultimate turning point” and says it is the only reason he is renowned (22).

“I’d been hoping that everything I’d believed all those years was true because if Trunnis was indeed the Devil in disguise, that gave me someone to blame, and I was looking for a cop-out. I needed Trunnis to be the flaw in my existence in order to claim the lifetime warranty on my get-out-of-jail-free card.”

At age 24, Goggins was miserable and reached a breaking point. He went to visit his abusive father for the first time in 12 years. During the visit, Goggins realized that although his violent childhood was unjust, he could take responsibility for his own future and address his own flaws. His memory of Trunnis as the devil underscores the heinousness of the abuse and thus the magnitude of Goggins’s choice. Goggins warns the reader against seeing entitlement in past trauma: Calling his own abuse a potential “cop-out” mirrors the tough approach he lays out in the Introduction and reinforces the theme of Personal Accountability and Fault.

“Once I’d liberated myself and begun to evolve, I learned that it is the rare warrior who embraces the adversity of being born into hell and then, with their own free will, chooses to add as much suck as they can find to turn each day into a boot camp of resiliency.”

After choosing self-accountability, Goggins invented his Mental Lab, a concept he urges the reader to use. In one’s Lab, painful memories are faced head-on and transformed into proof of resilience, which can fuel self-betterment—an example of Using Everything. Goggins takes the concept further and seeks out challenges to stockpile his mental reserves. His diction emphasizes the inherent difficulty in this process, which involves choosing “suck” and is equated to a military boot camp. However, his word choice also highlights the advantages: “liberation,” “evolution,” and the chance to become a “rare warrior.” The juxtaposition of two contrasting military images—the recruit in bootcamp and the warrior in battle—creates a before and after picture to inspire the reader.

“No matter how badass and successful you think you are, trust me, there is a semi coming around a blind curve, ready to smack you in the fucking mouth when you are comfortable as all hell.”

Hours after learning that his first book, Can’t Hurt Me, is a bestseller, Goggins is in the emergency room having his heart shocked and fearing death. Never Finished urges the reader to continually stockpile resilience because pitfalls are inevitable. The timing of Goggins’s heart scare supports his argument for never stalling the process. The concept of feeling “badass” taunts the reader and juxtaposes the jarring wakeup call of unseen calamity. Likewise, both the profanity and the dramatic imagery of a head-on collision underscore the urgency of Goggins’s warning.

“Some people might be put off by the term, but to me, calling someone a ‘savage’ is the highest compliment. A savage is an individual who defies odds, who has a will that cannot be tamed, and who, when knocked down, will always get back up!”

During Goggins’s transformation, he created an alter-ego: a savage. The primal image suggests animalistic hunger, which is key to Goggins’s definition. A savage constantly seeks the next challenge, restocks their resilience reservoir, and stays prepared for pitfalls. At this point in the narrative, Goggins nearly lets his recent heart problems and busy book tour deter him from entering the Leadville ultramarathon. He questions if has lost his savage mentality.

“My root problems were not and never had been physical. They were all mental.”

Goggins is recalling his approach to SEAL training. When Goggins entered Pararescue school, his body was in peak condition, but he quit when the water training became frightening. His preparation for Navy SEAL training, therefore, focused on mental strength. He needed to lose over 100 pounds in under three months, but he used every physical workout to fortify his mind. This flashback introduces the theme of Mental Versus Physical Strength.

“Mental toughness and resilience fade if they aren’t used consistently. I say it all the time: you are either getting better, or you’re getting worse. You’re not staying the same. And I’d failed to heed my own words. I wasn’t training to gain any longer. I had become a maintenance man, and while it’s certainly possible to maintain muscle tone and a certain level of cardiovascular fitness, you cannot maintain the savage mind.”

Goggins still has not committed to Leadville, and he worries that his book’s success has led to comfort and satisfaction that are sapping his hunger for challenges. While not as scary as his trip to the ER, fanfare for his book is another unexpected “minefield.” Goggins has a fit appearance and works out twice a day, but his training lacks the challenges that archive resilience. Goggins’s self-description here as a “maintenance man” contrasts greatly with the earlier images of a “savage” and a “warrior.”

“I’d picked the worst day of the summer for my longest run of the week. Why? Because nobody else would even consider doing something like that, and that gave me a chance to prove myself to be uncommon amongst the uncommon once again.”

Goggins begins training for Leadville and sees glimpses of his former savage mentality returning. Consistent with his earlier description of a warrior, Goggins seeks the biggest challenges and runs his longest distance during a heat advisory. He also finds fuel in his uncommonness. While the beaches, bayfronts, and cafes are crowded, he relishes being alone on the road. His hypophora underscores his exceptionalism, as raising the question of why he chose that day to train allows him to explicitly voice his rationale.

“Respect is earned every day by waking up early, challenging yourself with new dreams or digging up old nightmares, and embracing the suck like you have nothing and have never done a damn thing in your life.”

In Evolution 3, Goggins explains his One-Second Decision challenge and warns against letting comfort extinguish dreams. In this quote, he explains his decision to run Leadville. His hard-earned success feels good and threatens to rob him of the very mindset that got him there. The work of the Mental Lab is a lifelong process and does not permit resting on past accomplishments. Here, the word “respect” is interchangeable with the “savage identity,” both of which come from constantly embracing new challenges. Again, Goggins’s diction is raw and no-nonsense, advocating “old nightmares” and “the suck” over comfort.

“A prepared mind craves the worst conditions because it knows that pressure brings out its best and exposes almost everyone else. It doesn’t care if your legs are working right, if the temperature is perfect, if there is one hellish hill or an entire mountain range waiting to crush you. When there are freezing river crossings, it doesn’t concern itself with your wet feet. It doesn’t pay any attention to distance, and it sure as fuck doesn’t give a damn how long it takes to get there. The prepared mind is a magnificent thing, and mine was just about ready.”

When Goggins and Kish arrive in Colorado for the Leadville race, Goggins’s lungs and legs are functioning so poorly that Kish offers to cancel his entry. Goggins’s response evokes the theme of mental versus physical strength. For the savage mind, challenges summon stores of resilience, meaning Goggins’s troubled body is an advantage in the 100-mile race. The above quote mirrors this paradox, listing physical perils to demonstrate that Goggins’s mind is ready.

“I stared out the window, fixated on my North Star as it tailed us on the forty-five-minute drive, tempting me to leave the soft life of balance and comfort behind and follow it. That told me that Leadville was not the one-off I had assumed it to be. Part of my hesitation in signing up in the first place was because I’d already done it. I’d run damn near every meaningful race in the ultra game. I’d been there and done all of that, and now I knew that it wasn’t enough!”

Goggins’s team is returning to their cabin after the Leadville race, in which he regained his savage mindset: He is hungry for challenges again. Goggins’s “North Star” is a metaphor for “the impossible dream of being the hardest motherfucker ever” (112), and it is at odds with the “soft” lifestyle that came with success. In this setting, the analogy of following his North Star implies leaving behind both comfort and Leadville, foreshadowing a challenge even greater than a 100-mile race.

“That day in the driveway was when I finally figured out that Sgt. Jack’s example was the gift I’d been hoping for all along. It was more impressive and satisfying than any present could be, tastier than any hamburger or hot dog, and sweeter than an ice cream sundae. It was the best and most important day in my miserable life so far.”

After Leadville, Goggins dreams about the time he saw his grandfather’s hands crushed under the hood of a car. Sergeant Jack retained composure, had the hood lifted, and calmly asked for a ride to the hospital. Young Goggins was in awe of his grandfather’s strength and control. Sergeant Jack always faced circumstances head-on, without self-pity, and Goggins wanted that kind of toughness. The quote’s language emphasizes the perspective of a small child, listing treats young Goggins wished for and concluding that Sergeant Jack’s example was better than hotdogs and ice cream.

“That thought both excited and unnerved me because it implied that, despite all I’d done in the past, there was still more to give and a lot further to go. I knew that, of course. Shit, I preach it all the time, but now I felt it like a slap in the face I didn’t see coming.”

After the Leadville race, Goggins questions what the next big challenge could be. He urges the reader to set new, bigger goals after an achievement. However, he admits that doing is so unnerving, and the concession gives him credibility. Likewise, he turns his tough approach on himself, using a simile comparing his own directive to an unexpected “slap in the face” (154). Adhering to his savage philosophy, however, he enters a 240-mile race in Moab, Utah.

“You never want to rely on someone else to lead you in your race.”

After running for 24 hours in Moab, Goggins turns over navigation duties to a pacer whose GPS fails, adding 15 miles to their course. Goggins uses this to emphasize personal accountability, stating that he should never have delegated the responsibility. As Never Finished uses Goggins’s experiences to illustrate universal lessons, the race is a metaphor for any personal endeavor.

“I wasn’t going to win the race or finish in a respectable time, but I had been gifted another rare opportunity to test myself in adverse conditions and become more. If anything, my desire to finish had only grown thanks to the mess I’d made.”

After getting lost less than halfway into the Moab course, Goggins is late taking medication and needs 12 hours for his thyroid to recover. His goals for Moab are shot, and his body is suffering. True to his savage ideology, however, he calls the adversity a “gift”: Challenging himself to finish a long race with compromised health will add to his mental fortitude. Moreover, his language invokes personal accountability, as he calls the snafu the trouble he caused.

“A voice in my head woke me from my fitful slumber at three in the morning. It repeated the same savage mantra over and over. You’re not done yet, motherfucker! I popped up, bleary-eyed and half asleep. There was nobody else in the room but Kish, and she was dead to the world. I lay back down and closed my eyes, but the voice returned. You are not done yet!”

Forty miles before the Moab finish line, Goggins experiences high altitude pulmonary edema. He leaves the trail and goes to a hospital, giving him a DNF (did not finish) on the course. Within a few hours, he returns to his team’s condo. In this quote, he describes awakening to an internal voice that repeats a savage mantra: the book’s titular concept of never being finished. His alter-ego speaks to him with the same no-nonsense tone and profanity that Goggins uses with the reader, and Goggins heeds the directive, returning to the trail to—unofficially—finish the race.

“No matter what life serves me, I say, ‘Roger that.’ Most people think ‘Roger that,’ simply means, ‘Order received.’ However, in the military, some people infuse ROGER with a bit more intention and define it as, ‘Received, order given, expect results.’ When used that way, it is so much more than an acknowledgment. It’s an accelerant.”

With the goals of wildland firefighting and Moab redemption set for 2020, Goggins dislocates his knee and faces a difficult recovery. He emphasizes the need to accept bad news and make an action plan. Again using military terminology, he describes a process the reader can use to handle disappointments and move forward with a new goal.

“Pain had never stopped me in an ultra race before. Yet, there I was, in a fugue state, ducking and hiding in the shitter, quaking in my running shoes. That’s when Goggins reappeared and found me there. Goggins knew that the only way to deal with pain is to run straight through the motherfucker, so he knifed David, stuffed him down the toilet, and took the fuck over.”

Despite the odds, Goggins makes it to Moab 2020. Thirty-three miles from the finish, he is in pain and does not want to continue, so he enters a campsite bathroom to get off his feet. He describes a battle in his mind, where his savage alter-ego assumes control. Goggins’s empowerment is highlighted by the shift in imagery. Goggins is “hiding” and “quaking” before the savage “knifes” the fearful side of Goggins’s psyche and flushes it. Goggins’s profanity also emphasizes the toughness of the savage mindset. He revisits the theme of mental versus physical strength, as he leans on past resilience, faces pain head-on, and readies his mind to achieve the improbable.

“I felt like a quarterback at the line of scrimmage reading the defense and clocking nothing but pass rushers with blood in their eyes. The linemen, linebackers, and defensive backs would outnumber and easily overwhelm my blockers, sprint around the edge, bull rush inside, and the pocket would collapse. Unless I averted disaster before it struck. I had to call an audible—yell out a new play at the line of scrimmage loud enough for my whole squad to hear—but as I leafed through the playbook in my mind, I couldn’t find any workable solutions.”

After his botched knee surgery, Goggins is immobilized by pain. He uses an extended sports analogy to convey his mental distress, comparing himself to a quarterback whose pocket is collapsing during a blitz play. His ideology dictates adapting and taking action (“calling an audible”) but there is nothing in his archive of experience (his “playbook”) to direct him. After previous injuries, he always developed mental strength through physical training—even physical therapy. Now he cannot exercise at all.

“‘You say if this works, I could do anything?’ I asked.

‘Almost. Everything short of jumping out of planes, I suppose.’ I paused to digest his statement. At first, it felt like another knife to the gut, but it wasn’t definitive. He supposed jumping out of planes would be off-limits, but he did not know me.

‘Okay,’ I said, smiling. ‘No jumping out of planes.’”

Goggins visits a top orthopedic surgeon, who recommends an uncommon knee operation. Goggins still dreams of becoming a smokejumper, making the prohibition on parachuting comparable to a physical wound. However, as Goggins takes pride in defying odds and being an outlier, his response—and smile—foreshadows the surgery’s success and his venture into airborne firefighting.

“The pain wasn’t going anywhere. It came down to how much I was willing to endure. I thought about that when a few miles down the road, in the darkness of night, my North Star pushed aside two clouds, and Goggins rose from the ashes for the first time in almost a year.”

Thirteen weeks after his successful knee operation, Goggins still cannot run, but he enters a 444-mile bicycle race. Less than halfway through, leg pain causes him to stop, and he thinks completing 200 miles at that point in his recovery is commendable. Much like in the bathroom during Moab, however, he regains his savage mentality and reenters the event, harkening to the theme of mental versus physical strength. Also like that earlier event, vivid imagery represents the transformation’s magnitude, as Goggins says that clouds part and the savage ascends from ashes.

“Every footprint on that highway and each street I ran down belonged to me. Nobody else in town was out on foot. Most of the other rookies were still fast asleep. But beat to shit at forty-seven years old after all I’d accomplished, I was still getting the same what-the-fuck looks I got back when I was in my mid- to late twenties. And that lit me up like a torch.”

Able to run again, Goggins is in smokejumper training. His knee is painful and stiff in the morning, so goes for an early morning run before reporting to base. He again relishes feeling uncommon, being the only person out and receiving bewildered looks from drivers. He also catalogs resilience, noting his age and injuries, which is empowering. A vivid simile compares this archival process to igniting a torch.

“True, I was not the same David Goggins. I was a much better version. I used to think you had to be the best at everything to be great and to be a strong leader. That’s not the case. The valiant motherfucker is the person who faces long odds yet continues to try.”

Roughly twice as old as most other smokejumper rookies, Goggins is proud he can keep up with the class in endurance exercises. However, he struggles with drills that require kneeling or cold-weather manual dexterity. He works hard to master those drills and thinks his resilience sets a more important example than his physical feats. His profanity underscores the pride he takes in not giving up.