I said yes to everything for years. Board positions, speaking engagements, networking events, consulting calls, race invitations. If someone asked and I could physically fit it in my calendar, I did it. 

After all, that's what driven people do, right? We show up. We deliver. We don't leave opportunities on the table.

Then I noticed something…unfortunate. My best work wasn't happening in all those meetings I'd squeezed in. It was happening in the margins I'd accidentally left open: the early morning hours before anyone else was awake and the rare Saturday afternoon when nothing was scheduled. 

The quality of my thinking, my leadership, even my training—all of it suffered when my calendar looked like a game of Tetris with no gaps.

The word "no" might be the most important tool in your arsenal as a leader, parent, or athlete. But for high achievers, it's also the hardest one to use.

The alarm goes off at 5 AM, and it looks like midnight. I can see my breath in the bedroom. My running shoes are waiting by the door where I left them the night before, but the bed is warm with the weight of winter blankets. Wife snoozing beside me. No race on the calendar. No training plan to follow. Nobody’s expecting me to show up.

I don’t really have to get up and run. Right?

This is December in Memphis, and these mornings tell me everything I need to know about discipline.

I’ve made some of my worst business decisions at 9 PM on a Thursday after a day packed with meetings, fires to put out, and noise from my personal life. I think we’ve all been there, regardless of our position. 

The problem isn’t necessarily that we’re making decisions when we’re tired. That’s unavoidable when you’re in a leadership role in a business. The problem is that we don’t adjust our decision-making framework to account for our depleted state.

I was talking with one of my colleagues last week who was beating himself up over a deal that fell apart. He kept replaying every decision, looking for the fatal mistake, convinced this one failure might define, maybe even sink, his career.

I recognized that spiral immediately. I've been there more times than I can count.

With Thanksgiving around the corner, I've been thinking about failure differently. Because, really, gratitude isn't just about celebrating what went right. It's about recognizing that some of your most important growth came from the moments when everything went sideways.

Most people think ultramarathons are about pushing through pain. They're not wrong, but they're missing the more important part: knowing when not to push.

I've run enough long races to understand that the ability to suffer isn't what separates finishers from DNFs. It's the ability to recognize when your body needs you to back off, refuel, or adjust your pace. 

Runners who ignore those signals often don't make it to the finish line. And guess what? That same pattern shows up in business leadership, but most CEOs don't recognize it until they're already broken down.

I used to think work-life balance was something I was supposed to achieve. If I just worked hard enough, planned well enough, or optimized my calendar correctly, I'd finally reach a state where everything received equal attention, and nothing fell through the cracks.

That was exhausting…and it never really worked, either.

The problem with "balance" is that it implies everything should always receive equal weight. That on any given Tuesday, my five kids, my responsibilities at REI Nation, my training for the next ultra, my nonprofit efforts, and my marriage should all receive the same focus and energy.

Most executives I know are constantly optimizing their businesses by refining processes, developing talent, and improving systems. But when it comes to their own development, they rely almost entirely on professional experience and the occasional book.

The most effective leaders I've encountered all have something in common: they're training for something outside of work. Not just casually interested in it: actually training with a goal, a timeline, and a plan.

It could be a race, a musical performance, a strength milestone, or fill-in-the-blank with your goal of choice. The specific challenge matters less than the structured pursuit of it.

Despite what social media would have us believe, most mornings at 5 AM aren't Instagram-worthy.

There's no dramatic sunrise moment where I leap out of bed feeling inspired. More often, it's dark outside my windows, I'm groggy, and there's a solid 30 seconds where I seriously reconsider my life choices.

After years of pre-dawn waking, I've come to understand that early rising isn't really about mornings at all. It’s about creating competitive advantages that compound daily: clearer thinking before decision fatigue sets in, control over your schedule before it controls you, and the kind of self-discipline that influences everything else you do.

I run most mornings through Germantown before the sun comes up. Same routes, same rhythm, same pace. It's comfortable. I know every turn, every hill, every place where the streetlights cut out.

And it’s nice. But it isn’t growth. Still exercise? Of course. Still valuable? Undoubtedly. But will it push me to the next level? Not exactly.

Business is no different. When everything feels easy, when you can operate on autopilot, that's usually when you're in the most danger. Not from external threats, but from your own complacency.

I used to think protein powder was the answer to everything. Shaker bottles in my car, protein bars in my briefcase, and enough supplement tubs in my kitchen to stock a GNC. Then I realized I was making nutrition way too complicated for someone who runs companies, trains for ultras, and feeds five kids every night.

After years of overcomplicating my nutrition, I've landed on a protein strategy so simple that I can execute it during my busiest weeks. No measuring, no obsessing, no special trips to specialty stores. Just real food, strategic timing, and enough consistency to fuel both boardroom presentations and 20-mile training runs.

Five kids, five different schedules, five sets of needs—and somehow, my wife and I make it work. As I lace up my running shoes for my daily miles through Germantown, I can't help but reflect on how raising five children has fundamentally shaped my approach to business growth and leadership.

Most business books talk about scaling in terms of systems and processes. But parenting five kids? That's the ultimate masterclass in operational efficiency, resource allocation, and strategic thinking.

Last week, I calculated something disturbing: I spend 12 hours weekly on conference calls. That's 624 hours annually—or 26 full days—sitting still, staring at a screen, slowly morphing into my office chair. As someone training for ultras alongside my (busy) career, those numbers felt like thieves.

Then I had an epiphany: What if these calls weren't stealing my fitness time but adding to it? What if every "This meeting could have been an email" moment became a training opportunity?

Last week, I was three miles into my morning run through Germantown when my phone started buzzing. A major news story had broken, and within hours, my inbox was full of hot takes and think pieces. Everyone’s weighing in—and I felt I had to, too.

Sound familiar?

As business leaders, we're increasingly expected to weigh in on everything. But here's what I've learned after years of running companies: Not every moment requires your voice, and strategic silence can be more powerful than rushed statements.

The breakfast table erupted into chaos over the weekend. My youngest wanted pancakes, the middle one demanded waffles, and somehow—through a series of trades, compromises, and creative problem-solving that would make a Fortune 500 CEO take notes—they all walked away happy with French toast.

As I watched this unfold, coffee in hand, it hit me: my five kids might be the best negotiation coaches I've ever had.

The disciplines required for Ironman training—or rock climbing, or learning to fly, or whatever your scary thing is—transfer directly to business leadership. But not in the ways you might think.

It's not about physical fitness, though that certainly helps with energy and focus. It's about developing what I call "completion capability,” or the ability to finish what you start when every cell in your body wants to quit.

During mile 20 of the marathon portion of an Ironman, after you've already been racing for 10 hours, your mind presents you with a thousand reasonable excuses to stop. You're not injured. You're not failing. You're just uncomfortable. Deeply, profoundly uncomfortable.

Years ago, I found myself staring at a spreadsheet for the third straight hour, trying to analyze a complex property deal. My eyes were burning, my back ached, and despite the importance of the numbers in front of me, my brain felt like it was moving through molasses. 

Sound familiar?

That's when I remembered something from my ultra-endurance training: the power of strategic breaks. Just like how walking breaks during a 100-mile race can improve your overall time (believe it or not!), I knew movement breaks could sharpen my mental focus at work.

Life has a way of weaving itself together in surprising ways. Part of the fun of being a lifelong learner (at least, for me!) has been seeing how I can apply lessons from one area of life to another.

And, as you might expect, the most common area of overlap for me is between endurance running and entrepreneurship, not only with REI Nation alongside my family, but throughout my entire business journey. It's not just about being struck by an incredible business idea while on a run (though that does happen), but about the entire process. Though they might seem worlds apart, ultramarathon training and scaling a business share remarkable similarities.

I heard a story from a wealth advisor who, up until recently, had a career at a single regional bank spanning almost 30 years. He was one of the best of the best in the company, adding millions of dollars in managed assets to his employer. He was consistent. Loyal. Personable. Well-respected.

And then he was forced to retire—the company was going to let someone go. He decided to take an early retirement to help save someone else’s job. 

He had a wealth of experience. Clients trusted him, and many followed when the company pushed him out.

Picture this: you’re in the office after lunch. You have a to-do list as long as your forearm. And for some reason, you can’t muster the energy to get it done. You want to—more than anything! It just seems completely impossible.

I’ve been there. Who hasn’t?

Juggling deadlines, meetings, complex problem-solving, and personal responsibilities takes a toll—and way too many of us reach for an energy drink or a sugar high to cross the finish line.

The blockbuster of the summer is James Gunn’s Superman. I don’t know how many of my readers enjoy superheroes, but at this point (thanks to the Marvel Cinematic Universe), they’ve become mainstream.

But Superman stands out from the dozens of superhero movies and television series we’ve seen over the past 20 years. 

There’s no wink and nod, no shame in being weird and bright and from a comic book. Superman isn’t afraid to be what Superman has always represented: hope, earnestness, and kindness.