I dunno, OP. Hard work had me to learn Beethoven pieces like the back of my hand at the age of 8. I worked hard at it. But now, if you asked me to play anything cosmopolitan European in nature on a piano, I'll do it right after rolling my eyes into another dimension.

Same with Calculus at high school. I worked hard at it and became really decent at it to the point where I could figure limits and derivatives out mentally within seconds... and then came the final exam. I passed it, but didn't want to see another sine plot for the rest of my days.

My point being - you work hard at something; you become good at it: that doesn't necessarily mean you'll fall in love with it.

But, what does that matter, right?