What happens when…

…things don’t go to plan. Yesterday I boasted a big game, and then I did everything right. So right that I was a bit wired even though I was in bed by 8pm, and therefore didn’t fall asleep until after 10pm. Yesterday I had the perfect workout, nutrition, and routines, and yet I still slept past my alarm this morning. In fact, both my wife and I did.

So what now. I skim read my Daily Dad, and trim where I can to squeeze in a quick workout. Cut the yoga, and keep doing what I can, even if it’s just being in the space and not allowing myself to do anything else to give myself an excuse not to make this day 2 of what will become my streak in 2026 that will set up 2027 to be my year. Today’s passage was about Henri Cartier-Bresson who was unconventional in school, and the point was to encourage behavior when it crops up unconventionally.

Today, when I’m behind and it can feel like a chore, I have to remind myself of the fun in what I get to call myself. If I were to set some intentions, I think I may need to think about 2028 as my Iron or Norse year since I’m going to need the time to get my endurance under me. It will be a special year since that will have been 2 decades since my first time they uttered the words, “Erik, You are an Ironman.” It’s time to remind myself of that spirit.

Think about it…Think, Think about it…

To rest attentively - not to be satisfied with “just getting the gist of it.” - Marcus Aurelius

Today in the Daily Dad by Ryan Holiday, we think about how authors can be wrong, and that books are not a one-way conversation. My thoughts last week turned to how we should aim to be corrigible, or willing to suspend our beliefs and correct ourselves when we’re wrong.

I have been so right and paradoxically so wrong about so many things. I can know exactly what the problem is, define it, and have the solution and yet for one reason or another not be successful in the implementation.

My goal weight is to be under 190 pounds. Race weight is 165 pounds, and honestly I’d be thrilled if I was under 200 pounds. Realistically it’s been a decade since I’ve been under 220 pounds, and I fluctuate regularly between 228 and 238 pounds.

I’ve tried Wegovy (oral compound), and had to quit after the first dose escalation due to side effects, but am going to give it one more chance to see if I can re-establish a lifelong habit of balance. Now that my wife and I are done having kids, and our youngest can now walk and sleeps more regularly, I’m in a great position to work with my partner to establish a habit that we can both work on together.

Here’s what I know from working with bariatric weight loss patients for years… 80% of those who succeed, track everything they do. It doesn’t matter the format, just the behavior. Those that are most successful surround themselves with those who encourage them, they share their goals and partake together. They are realistic with their short and long term goals.

My goal for the next month is to follow the plan, track my food, and finish my Filthy 50 gravel race in October in Lanesborough. I’ve got the best bike for the job, I have all of the tools at my fingertips.

My wife and I planned out the how together: M-F same basic routine, low intensity, but consistent. MWF Legs - 15-30 min Cycling, 10 min yoga, 10 min strength (1 super set of squat and abs), walks (1-2 mi) when the weather cooperates.

Food: Coffee and protein shake in the AM, tuna or chicken salad or pre-made salmon pack for lunch, protein shake and/or protein bar in the afternoon for a snack, family dinner focusing on lean meat, veggies, and a fun carb to keep me sane.

The gist is that I’m back at it, but when I think about using cognitive behavioral therapy (CBT) techniques to adopt the new habit, I know that if I prep on Sundays, and keep to my nightly routine, that I’m 90% more likely to keep to the schedule during the week. Sunday and Monday are going perfect, but now I’ve got to set a reminder and chat with my wife about our wind-down routine to make sure I can keep it.

I’ll work to write when I can, and keep myself accountable. Let’s go!

Just keep swimming…

This morning felt like a small reset.

Nothing crazy…10 minutes of yoga just to loosen things up, then 30 minutes of lifting. I set up the GoPro and recorded it, not because it looked impressive, but because I want this to be real. Documented. Something I can look back on when momentum isn’t as easy.

I’m working my way back under 200 this year. That’s the goal. But honestly, that number is just a marker. What I’m really trying to rebuild is consistency.

The last couple of years were heavy. In a lot of ways. And I think I got used to operating in survival mode, just getting through things, not really taking care of myself the way I should have.

Now that things are starting to settle (at least a little), I feel the weight of what comes next. Not in a bad way, more like a responsibility.

I need to be steady again.

For my family, especially. With everything we’ve been navigating—financial pressure, uncertainty, just the general turbulence—I can feel how important it is for me to be a constant. Not perfect, just consistent. Showing up with energy, with presence, with some level of strength they can rely on.

That doesn’t happen by accident.

It’s mornings like this.

Simple structure.

Repeatable effort.

I’ve been thinking a lot about systems in my work, how the goal isn’t to eliminate complexity, but to make it usable. I think this is the personal version of that.

Keep it simple enough that I’ll actually do it.

Clear enough that I know what “showing up” looks like.

Repeatable enough that it compounds.

Today wasn’t a breakthrough. It was just another rep.

But that’s kind of the point.

Just keep going, just keep swimming…

New routines

New year, familiar path…only cleaner, smarter, and more sustainable.

For the last few months I’d been clinging to 10,000 steps a day as the backbone of my fitness routine. It’s a decent baseline: simple, measurable, and easy to track. But my cardio and strength sessions slowly drifted away. My workout log and wearable data didn’t lie—my strength numbers slipped and my conditioning plateaued. The daily walk was keeping me moving, but it wasn’t enough to preserve the progress I wanted.

So this year I decided not to chase a fad or flip everything overnight. Instead I iterated on what I already had. The first step was practical: I reorganized my home gym.

Space optimization was the quiet MVP. I pulled equipment away from the walls, cleared a dedicated flow area, and reoriented the rack and bench to make transitions seamless. The floor is clear, a couple of well-placed mats define movement zones, and the most-used gear—barbell, adjustable bench, dumbbells, resistance bands—is within arm’s reach. That small physical change made the whole room inviting. It lowered friction: no more moving things around or mentally rehearsing a route. I just walk in and lift.

With the environment sorted, I returned to fundamentals. I set up a simple, repeatable weekly structure that emphasizes frequency and balance without being rigid:

• Monday / Wednesday / Friday: Legs and Back (supersets)

• Tuesday / Thursday: Chest and Core (supersets)

• Saturday/Sunday: active recovery, mobility, or a longer cardio workouts on the bike or treadmill

Supersets have long been a foundation for me for fitting more work into less time while keeping intensity up. Pairing a leg movement with a back exercise cuts rest time without sacrificing volume, and it keeps the heart rate engaged…helpful when you’ve been relying on steps for cardio. On chest and core days, I focus on controlled pressing and core stability work that supports better lifts and daily function.
Key principles that guided the rebuild

• Start from what’s already working: Keep the step goal but treat it as supplemental, not primary.

• Prioritize fundamentals: Squat, hinge, horizontal and vertical press/pull, and core control. Volume and consistency beat novelty.

• Reduce friction: An inviting, organized space makes it easier to follow through.

• Make sessions efficient: Supersets and clear circuits keep momentum and free up time.

• Track the right things: Look at strength and conditioning metrics, not just steps. If stats drop, adjust, don’t abandon.

The return to basics has been refreshing. It’s easy to complicate fitness—new programs, trendy equipment, extreme challenges—but sometimes the most effective move is to simplify. Emphasize compound lifts, control tempo, be consistent, and allow recovery. Those decisions compound over weeks and months.
Practical tips if you want to iterate rather than overhaul

1. Audit your current routine and data for a week. Note what you enjoy, what you skip, and where metrics dip.
2. Reorganize your training area around workflow, not aesthetics. Clear sightlines and quick access matter.
3. Build a simple, repeatable weekly structure that balances muscle groups and recovery.
4. Use supersets or paired circuits to maintain density without adding time.
5. Keep a small set of core metrics (strength numbers, RPE, recovery score) to judge progress beyond step counts. But once you start, stay consistent with these.
6. Be patient. An iteration takes time to show in the numbers.

I didn’t abandon 10k steps; I reframed them. They’re part of a bigger, more balanced approach. The combination of a decluttered space, a sensible split, and a return to tried-and-true movements has made it easy to get a lift in again—and to feel the benefits in everyday life. If the last few months taught me anything, it’s that getting back to basics is sometimes the most powerful upgrade you can make.

Kessel Run

Fitting it all in feels like a constant rush. As a father juggling the relentless chaos of three little kids, always moving swiftly from one demanding task to the next without pause. Each day blends into the next with a blur of breakfast messes, diaper changes, school drop-offs, sick kids and activities. There’s rarely a moment to sit still; the noise fills every corner of the house, from the shouted requests for snacks to the spontaneous bursts of laughter that echo through the rooms.

Amid this whirlwind, there’s the rare, quiet moment after the entire house finally goes to bed.

The kids are tucked in, the lights dimmed, and the noise fades to a distant hum of sudden silence. It’s then that a simple run transforms from just exercise into something much more significant—a precious, brief escape. The cool night air from an open garage door on an autumn night dissipating heat as the rhythmic pounding of bare feet hitting treadmill slats becomes a thrumming meditation. The mind quiets. There’s a chance to breathe deeply and find a moment of peace amid the ongoing noise and activity of daily life.

There are always the small but urgent fixes, and though I long for a shower and to dive face first into my pillow, I see my toddler’s prized Millennium Falcon book-light shattered on daddy’s workbench, and I’m reminded of my promise. I hear his gentle sobs in my mind as I pull myself up to the bench to fit the broken pieces back together, hoping in the morning to restore a small yet important sense of comfort and security in a world that can feel overwhelmingly unpredictable.

This life is a delicate balance of chaos and calm, exhaustion and deep love. Every day is a constant forward lean through the sleepless nights, endless demands, and the tiny victories. It’s about turning the volume down on the noise, holding onto the sticky hugs, the whispered “I love yous,” and the shared smiles in the middle of all the mess….

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Accountability

From the end of September, over the following 6 months I aim to establish two consistent habits. Hitting my caloric goal of under 1700 Cal with consistent tracking, and not giving up on 10k steps a day no matter what.

Accountability 10/14

First real slip on steps

Accountability 10/13

Accountability 10/12

Whoops. Didn’t track Calories. May be over.

Accountability 10/11

Virtual race day. I’ll take it. Didn’t “overeat” despite big day.

I did a thing! (Virtual Edition)

First, a quick accountability check. Cal and macros were pretty good. Unexpected trip to Costco and timing made for an impromptu hotdog which affected fat and protein targets. Steps have been perfect for a couple weeks now.

Welp, another year, and another lottery and point miss for Norseman. At 300 points I look to be at 406th place. For me to climb in rankings, I need to be at least in the 5 to 6 hundred range to have a chance at top 100. That’s if others aren’t completing a bunch of races. When I complete the .6 half iron tomorrow, I’ll earn 15 points. When I do 6 months of 32 hours a training a month, I’ll earn 70 points. Then in February I’ll do the ROUVY Norseman bike climb to earn 10 points and a lottery draw. In Nov and Dec I’m considering doing the .8 and then the full distances which would bag me another 20 and 25 points respectively. 140 altogether to put me at 440 pts. Feels like I’d still need to take another shot at Starvation OR I’d need to find a cross-seas adventure that may have a more modest climb to grab another 200 points. At 640 maybe I’d have a chance… Cross my fingers for a lottery moonshot in February?

Get up and start

I’m done with my pitty party. It’s been a few weeks since I DNF’d at Starvation Xtri. This was my first, and hopefully only DNF that I’ll experience. I’ve been wrestling these last weeks with trying to accept my decision, believing in my heart that I would have been just on the edge of completing the race had I kept going.

The name says it all… Starvation was needed to mount that final crest, and I didn’t lose enough weight to make it happen.

As I wrestled with it this morning, my wife commented over coffee that “I chose the hardest goal in the hardest year of my life, and used it to pull myself up out of bed each morning.”

It hit me in a new way when she framed it not as failure, but as alchemy as I transmuted grief into motion. Starvation wasn’t the destination; it was the vehicle as I lived the victory every day that I got on the bike, ran, or swam while carrying grief on your back. The DNF wasn’t an ending, it was an honest mirror: it showed me where my body and spirit intersected with reality. And learned from her experience. I didn’t disregard the signs or take the unnecessary risk, I listened, which means I passed the real test.

I’ve still got the itch to aim for something for this next year, but I need to make sure my priorities are straight and that I’m positioned to put family first. Regardless of how much I may want another shot at Starvation in 2026, I need to focus on diet, nutrition, and well-rounded strength. I’d love the opportunity to give back and support those who supported me through this year. If I can do all of that, and be in a position to try once more… I’d love a chance to prove myself again as I have begun to rediscover balance and started to build the momentum.

Forward motion

Picture it: you’re cresting a hill on the bike, heart pounding, cadence steady. The wind resists, the road pitches up, and every second matters. In that moment, you shift your weight forward on the saddle and into the aero bars, not drastically, not recklessly, but just enough to maintain tension on the chain, to keep momentum alive. That slight forward lean is everything. It’s not desperation—it’s intention. Not panic—but precision.

The same is true in running. Think of the posture of an elite marathoner: a slight tilt forward from the chest. Just enough to let gravity assist without pulling the runner off balance. The lean invites forward motion. It whispers to the body: we’re going there—now. It’s not a fall. It’s a signal. A command to commit.

In the water, it’s even more subtle, yet immediately noticeable. A swimmer doesn’t charge ahead blindly—they find the line of least resistance. The slightest change in head position shifts the entire body. Too high, and the legs drag. Too low, and the rhythm falters. But just the right alignment—just the right lean—and the body slices forward with power and grace.

This lean, in all three disciplines, is not about speed alone—it’s about readiness. Controlled urgency. A physiological metaphor for psychological posture.

You see, when every second counts, we don’t flail. We don’t rush. We lean—just enough to tell the body, the mind, and the moment: I’m engaged. I’m present. I’m coming for it.

Too upright, and you miss the surge. Too far forward, and you lose control. But when it’s right—it’s poetry. It’s the body on the edge of action, tuned to the now, eyes fixed ahead, movement born from purpose.

In life—as in sport—this is the balance we aim for. Not haste. Not hesitation. But a poised readiness. A forward lean that says: I’m not reacting to pressure. I’m dancing with it.

Good things take work

Taking the path of wisdom, like Proverbs 29 suggests, can feel a lot like this morning’s bike ride with my kids. As we pushed uphill, my eldest was ready to give up, her legs burning and her patience wearing thin. That struggle—the discomfort and frustration—is just like making thoughtful, wise choices in life. It’s hard and sometimes uncomfortable., but when we finally reached the top and started coasting down, the relief and thrill made all the effort worth it.

It was a real moment for my kids to see: sticking with something tough leads to rewards, whether it’s a downhill ride or smarter decisions. Patience and perseverance pay off in ways you can actually feel.

Inspired

Finding salvation through breath on the treadmill is a quiet, internal battle where each inhale becomes a source of strength and every exhale a release of tension. Breathing deeply in and out allows me to endure the heat beating down, the sharp edges of pain, the unexpected hurdles, and the uncontrollable forces that threaten to break my focus. I learn to accept the fear that surfaces, welcoming it as part of the process rather than resisting it. This rhythm of breath becomes a lifeline, steadying me when my body wants to give up.

Similarly, listening to a recording of my pastor’s recent sermon with his unique energy and profound insights on interpreting the Bible lifts me in profound ways. His words blanket the noise in my mind, realigning my spirit with calm assurance. The teachings inspiring me to face the day with renewed courage, reminding me that endurance through struggle is not just physical, but spiritual.

Stick hits deep

Watching the first episode of "Stick" last night was a profound experience, especially as it coincided with Father's Day. The scene in the final moments, where the father grapples with the heartbreaking revelation that he has lost a son, hit me with an intensity I hadn’t anticipated. As I sat there, a rush of emotion washed over me, bringing forth memories long buried beneath layers of resignation and acceptance. The portrayal of grief was so raw, so real, that it felt as though my own sense of loss had been pried open like a shovel digging up those feelings I thought I had managed to contain one scoop at a time, layering themselves in a heap before me.

In those fleeting minutes of the episode, I was drawn back to the graveyard where my own son rests. The weight of those memories pressed heavily on my chest, pulling sickly at the pit of my stomach, forcing me to confront an ache that had felt subdued. Each heartbeat echoed with the emptiness left behind, leaving me feeling exposed and vulnerable. The deep-seated empathy I felt for the character became intertwined with my own grief, pulling me down into a familiar yet painful well of sorrow. It was a reminder of the fragility of life and the enduring nature of loss, an experience that lingered long after the credits rolled and I slipped into dream.

This morning there has been a shade of grief making me trudge through my coffee walk. I step through it anyway, then slowly pick up the pace to zone 2. And when I’m done with an hour, I still feel the inckiness in my gut and put the weights on. Today is leg day, and I grunt through the reps to reclaim myself…. One day at a time. Fueled with coffee breath, sweat mixes with tears that leak out this morning to help get my head on straight for the day. Drip by drip is how I get fit.

Cold Awakening

The chill of the May Lake Tahoe waters seeped through my skin, an icy reminder of the late spring that clung stubbornly to the mountains’ frosted tips. Yet laughter echoed across the shore as my children danced through the surf, their small figures darting in and out of the still crystal like water. The way my son, his cheeks flushed with excitement, would jump to his sister as she placed him on an intertwine and played his feet was a sight that chased away their shivers. My daughter, with her long sandy blonde hair flowing behind her like seaweed caught in a gentle current, would then race to the beach together to dig tirelessly in the sand. Their small hands sculpting mounds which became towers in their mind only to be soon offered as a sacrifice to the tide. It was pure, untamed joy — the kind that felt slightly less foreign as of late amidst the weight of this past year.

Each splash and squeal felt like a memory inscribed against the somber backdrop of a year marked by absence. As my wife stood nearby, watching the children with a soft smile, I could see that her belly was growing, each day bringing us closer to the moment we once celebrated but now approached with a complex tapestry of anticipation and fear. The closer we got to that date, the more the feeling of dread mingled with the joy I fight to maintain. I hovered in a strange in-between, where the beauty of our family’s laughter was shadowed by the weight of what we had lost.

Despite the heavy heart that has anchored me, I turned towards the warmth of these glimmers of lightness and let my body relax. With each grain of sand my fingers touched as I helped my daughter dust off before reapplying sunscreen, I felt a flicker of hope in her moan to continue playing and the smile of joy when she was free to return to the sand tent and those ice-like waters. Memories crafted here, amidst the sparkling backdrop of mountaintops in the distance echoing laughter, were moments against the tide of uncertainty. I wasn’t sure what the following months might hold, but I am determined to hold this day in my heart as a bridge between what once was and what may come next.

The exhaustion nestled deep in my bones was a reminder of the tumultuous path that had led me here, a pathway carved through grief yet punctuated by these fleeting moments of joy. It felt like training for a race I’d never signed up for. Yet this evening, as the sun dipps lower, banding the sky with hues of orange and pink, I embrace the rhythm of breath — an inhale of fresh mountain air, an exhale laced with long-held fears. Perhaps if I can lean into this, I can find my flow, just like in my best training sessions this last week amidst the mountains.

The day was a fragile gift blessed with family, but it was also a declaration: we were here, we were together, and we will continue to craft our story, one precious moment at a time.

Up, Up and Away

The stillness of the early morning hours wrapped me like a soft blanket, a stark contrast to the vivid dream that had pulled me from sleep. In that fleeting moment, shadows from a past long gone intertwined with the surreal imagery of my subconscious. I had scarcely begun to shake off the remnants of that dream, laden with feelings I thought had settled years ago, when a voice broke the silence. My toddler needed me, the unmistakable cue of urgency that reminded me of my responsibilities. For a moment, I lived in two worlds, reminded of a person I had once been while paradoxically being thrust into the person I am now. There was no time for thought. Instinct took over.

I sat upright, rushed down the hall, careful to tread lightly, hoping to navigate the delicate balance of caring for my son while keeping my wife undisturbed. Last night, she had supported my need for an evening workout, a commitment I had promised myself to combat the exhaustion that had come to define my days. With muscle memory, I comforted my boy, went through the motions of washing the sheets and getting him snuggled back down.

Her encouragement last night fueled my determination, and now, as I brewed a steaming cup of coffee, I felt a renewed sense of energy coursing through me. The warmth of the mug cradled in my hands contrasted sharply with the chill of the early morning, welcoming me back to the wakeful world.

Again, relying on muscle memory as I drove to the gym, a surprising realization met me: it would not open until 5 a.m. Time had moved with such stealth, and while I had expected to be among the early birds, I found myself nearly alone in the parking lot. The mist hung on my windshield, a soft veil reminding me that dawn was still a distant promise.

As I waited, I sipped my coffee, its warmth a comfort against the brisk air, and I couldn’t help but picture the refreshing plunge into the cold pool that would simulate the shock that awaited me just two months from now in Utah. Excitement fluttered in my chest as I envisioned the race, my legs feeling strong after a fulfilling 3.5-hour run just days before.

With the steam from my drink rising against the mist outside, the possibilities ahead shimmered with a tantalizing glimpse of what lay just over the horizon.

Spring Blossoms

The warm spring sun is pouring onto the patio, setting a scene for the day ahead. With a fresh cup of coffee in hand, the rich smell mixes perfectly with the blooming flowers nearby. The soft sounds of birds chirping and leaves rustling fill the air, inviting a moment to think things over before the day kicks off. Sitting here in this peaceful spot, there's a buzz of excitement for tackling another great day, all thanks to the caffeine boost and the lively spring vibe. Each sip of coffee is like a little ritual, helping to clear the mind and set intentions as the world gradually comes to life.

One small step…

Sticking to a daily schedule helps keep things organized and boosts productivity, but it's easy to forget the importance of actually taking a lunch break. Taking a moment to step away from screens and enjoy a quick stretch can really give your eyes a break from all that screen time. Some good old vitamin D from the sun can also do wonders for both your mind and body, helping you unwind and feel better overall.

In the evening, there's something really satisfying about cooking and enjoying a healthy dinner while hitting my protein goals. It adds a nice sense of accomplishment to the day. Every meal made with care not only fuels the body but also feels like a little treat for all the hard work you put in throughout the day, helping you keep that balance going.

The Art of Release

Grit

Embracing New Energy

As the sun dipped below the horizon on May 11, 2025, a whisper of breeze ruffled the leaves, echoing the gentle promise of renewal. Days spent untethered from the expectations of the routine were a reminder that freedom is found in the lightness of being. With each moment I surrendered to the soft embrace of time away, I felt the weight of past failures dissolve—a release, akin to spring buds forcing dead leaves to let go of their branches, dancing towards the earth in a graceful farewell.

In those precious days, I discovered that resting was not a retreat but rather a bold step toward my own success. The unrealized progress of yesterday lay quiet, their shadows fading as new energy flowed from rested eyes and a quieted mind. The anticipation of using a new habit tracker brings a sense of clarity and focus as I approach the final stretch before my race. As I downloaded a new app called Grit, I was excited as it invites reflection and encourages a more realistic assessment of one’s goals. By defining and detailing daily activities, it helps uncover unseen gaps in your training regimen that might have otherwise gone unnoticed with its intuitive dashboard and notifications build in...

With less than 100 days left, the tracker will serve as a better compass, guiding me to identify areas needing adjustment. I have seen success in my speed, strength, and endurance, but now I must meet my starvation head-on if I am to concur the mountain. It’s time to dig in.