Most people do not ruin their lives all at once. They do it slowly, quietly, and politely. They do it by waiting.

They wait to reach out to someone they are attracted to. They wait to leave a job they hate. They wait to move somewhere that feels alive. They wait to start the thing they already know they are meant to do. They tell themselves it will happen when the timing is right, when they feel ready, when they are more confident, when circumstances improve.

Waiting feels responsible. It feels mature. It feels safe. It feels like control.

But waiting is also how people abandon themselves without ever admitting it.

By the time most people realize it, years have passed. The hunger they once felt has dulled. The urgency has softened. They still talk about what they want, but the way they talk about it feels distant, like they are describing someone else’s life.

I am writing this in a moment where I feel motivated, lonely, sad, and clear all at the same time. Those emotions do not cancel each other out. They coexist when you stop lying to yourself.

This is not written from the finish line. It is written from the middle, where things are uncertain, uncomfortable, and demanding. This is not a polished speech meant to inspire for five minutes. This is meant to sit with you. To bother you. To force you to confront how you are actually living.

In 2026, my motto is impatient.

Not reckless. Not careless. Impatient.

Because impatience is not about chaos. It is about refusing to waste the limited time you have pretending that tomorrow is guaranteed.

People love to say life is short, then they live as if they have unlimited retries. They delay decisions because it feels safer than committing. They shrink dreams until they fit inside what feels realistic. They confuse patience with fear and call it wisdom.

But the world is not slowing down for you to feel ready.

Jobs are more competitive. Relationships are harder to find. Attention is fractured. Opportunity is fleeting. If you hesitate long enough, someone else will take the life you were supposed to live. They will take the job you wanted, the person you were afraid to pursue, the version of yourself you never gave permission to exist.

This is not meant to scare you. It is meant to wake you up.

There is a moment in childhood that most people forget, but it explains everything about what we lose as adults.

Think about the first time you rode a bike. You were terrified. Your legs were shaking. Your heart was pounding. Someone held the seat. You trusted them. And then, without warning, they let go.

For a few seconds, maybe longer, it was just you. No hands. No safety net. No instructions. You learned balance not because someone explained it to you, but because you trusted yourself enough to keep pedaling.

That is the part people forget.

At some point, you trusted yourself completely. Without credentials. Without proof. Without experience. Without reassurance.

So what changed.

Somewhere along the way, you were taught to hesitate. You were taught to wait your turn. You were taught that wanting more was dangerous, unrealistic, or selfish. You were taught that speed was irresponsible and comfort was maturity.

You were taught to doubt yourself before the world ever had to.

Who is holding the bike now.

No one.

That is adulthood. No one is holding the seat. No one is coming to save you. No one is going to give you permission to become who you are meant to be.

The only thing left is whether you trust yourself enough to keep pedaling.

In 2026, you need to expect nothing from others.

Not validation. Not approval. Not encouragement. Not rescue.

Expect everything from yourself.

This is where real freedom begins.

Most people build their happiness on external expectations. They want others to show up for them. They want reassurance before they move. They want guarantees before they commit. But guarantees do not exist for the life you actually want.

If you want comfort, you can wait. If you want alignment, you have to move.

There is only one way to live your life, and that way is through you. Not through other people’s standards. Not through fear of judgment. Not through waiting for conditions to improve.

Through you.

Ask yourself questions most people avoid.

Who do you actually want to date, not who feels safe to want.
What do you want to create, not what sounds impressive.
Where do you want to live, not where you feel stuck.
What kind of days do you want to wake up to.
What kind of person do you want to respect when you look in the mirror.

Then ask the harder question.

What are you doing right now that directly supports that life.

Because wanting without action is self betrayal.

I cannot stand hearing people say they want something but they are not capable. That sentence is poison. It kills possibility before it has a chance to breathe.

You were born into a world where you get one life. One body. One chance to experience being here. And you are telling yourself limits that were never proven.

If you are going to live small, safe, and scared, you are not really living. You are existing.

Living is expansion. Living is risk. Living is choosing discomfort in service of something that matters.

That does not mean everyone needs extreme goals. But everyone needs a goal that scares them. Something that makes their stomach tighten when they say it out loud.

For me, twenty two marathons were not enough. Two Ironmans were not enough. Eight ultras were not enough.

I need twelve ultras in twelve months.

The word need matters.

Want is negotiable. Want disappears when things get hard. Want looks for excuses.

Need is different.

Need reorganizes your identity. Need sharpens your days. Need removes options. When something becomes a need, it stops being a question.

This is the shift I want you to make in 2026.

Do not want the life you say you want. Need it.

And understand this clearly. Needing something comes at a cost.

You will not be balanced. You will not be relatable. You will not be universally liked. You will miss out on things that other people consider normal.

For me, that means no dating. No falling in love. No traveling for leisure. No casual distractions. My life becomes running, racing, and work.

That is not punishment. That is commitment.

Focus is not deprivation. Focus is respect for what you are building.

You cannot build something extraordinary while living scattered. You cannot expect uncommon results while protecting comfort.

Hyper focus is how impossible things get done.

From the moment you wake up to the moment you go to bed, your energy must belong to the goal. Not part of it. All of it.

That is how you get there quickly. That is how momentum compounds.

In 2026, I want you to take a chance on yourself. Not a polite chance. Not a backup plan chance. A terrifying one.

Set a goal that scares you. Something that feels unreasonable. Something that exposes you.

If one marathon scares you, do ten. If you hate where you live, move. If your job is killing your soul, leave. If you are lonely because you are hiding, stop hiding.

Do it.

And let me be honest about what happens next, because most people lie about this part.

It will be the hardest thing you have ever done.

You will lose people. Friends will drift. Relationships will end. People will not understand you. You will be judged. You will be called obsessive, selfish, extreme.

There will be days where doubt feels heavy. Weeks where progress feels invisible. Moments where you question everything.

No one will relate to you.

That is the price of becoming uncommon.

When your parents let go of the bike, they were not there to catch you if you fell. You trusted yourself to keep going.

That is what adulthood actually is. Trusting yourself without backup.

When everyone lets go, all you have is your discipline, your standards, and your belief.

If that scares you, good. Fear is not a signal to stop. Fear is a signal that you are close to something real.

As you get older, things become more serious. Not in a dramatic way, but in a quiet one. Time becomes more visible. Mortality becomes harder to ignore. And too many people reach that realization having done nothing meaningful with their time.

That is the tragedy. Not failure. Not heartbreak. Not mistakes. Regret.

I feel my purpose clearly now. To do hard things. To tell the truth about what they cost. To live fully enough that my story becomes proof for others.

I am writing a book. I am committing to twelve ultras in a year. I am building something bigger than comfort.

And all of it starts within.

2026 is about you.

Become selfish in the right way. Protect your energy. Protect your focus. Protect your standards.

If you want something, go all in on it. Let the old version of you die. Let the excuses die. Let the limits die.

Stop sitting back like you have time.

You do not.

The clock is not waiting. Opportunity is not waiting. Life is not waiting.

Speed matters. Decisions matter. Commitment matters.

This is the year you stop asking if you are capable and start proving that you are.

This is the year you stop expecting others to show up and start showing up for yourself.

This is the year you ride the bike without hands.

And even if you fall, you fall forward.

Because living scared is not living at all.

2026 is not about comfort. It is about becoming.

And becoming requires courage, sacrifice, and an unreasonable belief in yourself.

Choose that.

Now.