Most high performers I know carry a badge of honor for being the person with all the answers. They’re always available, always ready to weigh in. Always on. It’s an easy identity to build when you’re good at what you do, and people keep coming to you for direction.

It feels great, until it doesn’t. That identity comes with a cost.

What I’ve found—through my career, raising five kids, running nonprofits, and logging miles—is that trying to be that person burns through your best cognitive resources. It burns through them so fast. And usually, I might add, on the wrong things. 

By the time a truly important decision lands on your desk, your brain is fried.

I don't run with a watch.

No GPS. No Strava. No Garmin. Not even a FitBit.

When I head out the door, the only thing I'm tracking is how my legs feel under me.

People find this strange, especially other runners. We live in an age where every split gets logged, every mile gets posted, and your worth as an athlete is apparently measured in monthly mileage totals. I've had runners look at me like I admitted to training in blue jeans.

Most high-performing business owners I know are meticulous about optimizing their operations. Systems, staffing, capital allocation—they sweat every detail. And then they skip lunch and sit for nine hours straight, running out of juice when they need it most.

There’s a disconnect.

I'm not immune to this. I've done it myself!

But once I started to understand what's happening inside our brains when we move our bodies and fuel it well, I stopped thinking of fitness as purely a matter of personal discipline. It became an operational decision instead.

I’ve set a lot of goals in my life: run a hundred miles, help build a trusted company with my dad, and raise five incredible kids who actually like each other. Just to name a few. They’re the big picture, ambitious goals that you’d see someone put on a vision board.

And look, those goals are great. I’m not knocking big goals or aiming high. But you know, a goal without the right process to support it is about as effective as wishing on a star. Realizing that is when I started falling in love with process goals, not just outcome goals.