I have a hard time taking vacations. I'm always moving. Always pushing. Always looking for what's next. Slowing down doesn't come naturally to me. This past weekend, I packed up the whole family, including the dog. We drove from Wisconsin to St. Louis to pick up Eli and Logan, then headed down to The Smoky Mountains. For a few days, I slowed down. Vacations bring their own type of chaos. Long car rides. Kids in the backseat. Constant movement. Stops for gas, food, bathroom breaks, every couple hours. It's not what most people call relaxing. Tennessee gives me something different. A chance to slow down. Physically and mentally. To take things in. To reflect. To enjoy the time with family and just be present. Driving through the mountains, I had to be present. Every turn, every steep angle. You have to hug the curves. Slow down, pay attention, and while I'm focused on the road, the Smoky Mountains are right there. Stretching out in front of me. Layers of blue and gray fading into the distance. You can't rush through mountains. You have to respect the terrain. Move with it. Stay present. And when you do, you get the view. I'm ready to get back to the academy. Training. Coaching. Teaching. Impacting. This trip gave me something I needed. The views. The mountains. A little bit of Tennessee "shine" and memories of southern living. I'm from Gainesville, Florida. Being down south brings me back. It's a different kind of recharge. I spend most of my time pushing. Building. Growing. Improving. That's who I am. That's what I do. But if I don't take time to slow down, I lose perspective. I lose sight of what I'm building for. My family. These moments. This life. Vacations aren't escapes. They're reminders. Why you work so hard. What matters. Being present with the people who matter most. I'm not good at slowing down. But I'm learning it's not weakness. It's necessary. You can't show up powerfully if you never stop to refuel. So here's my challenge. When's the last time you slowed down? Not because you were forced to. Because you chose to.

Thanksgiving just passed. And if you're like most people, you spent some time thinking about what you're grateful for. Your family. Your health. Your job. The roof over your head. The good things. That's easy. Gratitude is easy when life is good. Here's the harder question: What are you grateful for that didn't feel good? What struggle shaped you? What failure taught you? What hard moment made you who you are? Because gratitude isn't just about the wins. It's about the whole experience. The falls. The setbacks. The moments you didn't think you'd get through.That's where the real growth is. And if you can find gratitude there, you unlock something most people never do. I struggle with this. I'm constantly trying to improve myself. Always pushing. Always looking for what's next. What needs to be better. Where I'm falling short. It's exhausting. This weekend gave me an opportunity to slow down. To actually reflect on the progress I've made. The people I'm grateful for. The day-to-day challenges that grow me. The demand I put on myself? That's part of what shapes me. The pressure. The expectations. The constant push to be better. I used to think that was a problem. But it's the fuel. The struggle isn't something to fix. It's something to be grateful for. Because without it, I wouldn't be who I am. I wouldn't have built what I've built. I wouldn't have the relationships I have. I wouldn't have learned what I've learned. The hard moments? They're not interruptions. They're part of the experience. The Stoics called it amor fati. Love your fate. Not just accept it. Love it. All of it. Marcus Aurelius said, "The impediment to action advances action. What stands in the way becomes the way." The obstacle isn't blocking your path. It is the path. Buddhism teaches that suffering is the teacher. You don't grow in comfort. You grow in discomfort. In struggle. In the moments that break you open and force you to rebuild. Nietzsche said, "He who has a why to live can bear almost any how."

This weekend, we hosted our 5th Utopia Open. I watched kids compete, parents cheer, and coaches guide. I also watched frustration, tears, and moments that didn't go the way people hoped. And I was reminded: competition teaches us more than technique and game plans. It teaches us how to show up when things don't go our way. Drew and I spend a lot of time curating these matches. We want them to be competitive. We want them to push our student-athletes. We want them to be challenging, because that's where growth happens. But with competition comes adversity. Calls get missed. Matches feel unfair. Emotions run high. And that's not a flaw in the process. That's part of the lesson. The Reality of Competition Refs are human. Coaches are human. We miss things. A call doesn't go the way you think it should. A match feels one-sided. Your kid loses, and it doesn't feel fair. I get it. I see the frustration. I see parents questioning calls. I see kids crying after tough losses. And here's what I want you to know: we see it too. We care. We want every match to be fair, every call to be right, every kid to have their best moment. But competition isn't perfect. It can't be. Because the people running it, coaching through it, and the student athletes competing in it are all human. The Life Lesson Here's the truth: life doesn't always go your way either. You'll work hard and not get the promotion. You'll do everything right and still face setbacks. You'll show up with integrity and still encounter unfairness. That's not pessimism. That's reality. And if we only teach kids how to succeed when everything goes perfectly, we're not preparing them for life. We're setting them up to crumble the first time things don't go their way. Competition teaches resilience. It teaches you how to lose with grace. How to handle frustration without falling apart. How to keep showing up even when the outcome isn't what you hoped for. That's the lesson. Not the medal. Not the win. The ability to face adversity and choose to keep going.

I take pride in being part of something bigger than me. This week reminded me what that really means. This past week, we hosted trunk-or-treat at the academy. Families showed up. Kids laughed. Parents connected. Our team came together to create something special; not because we had to, but because we wanted to. It wasn't just an event. It was a reminder of what we're building: a community. The Conversation That Stopped Me During trunk-or-treat, a parent of two of our student-athletes pulled me aside. He told me my posts and content have been inspiring to him. I was humbled. I thanked him. But here's what I didn't say in that moment: he inspires me just as much. He doesn't train jiu jitsu, but he's as committed to his own growth as he is to his kids'. He shows up. He invests. He models the kind of person he wants his children to become. That's the thing about community. Inspiration doesn't flow one way. It's mutual. What Really Inspires Me I find gratitude in those moments, when someone shares how something I've said or done has made a difference. The truth is, I find inspiration in my environment every single day. The sunrise. A child's laugh. A smile from a stranger. The simple things that remind me to stay present. I'm inspired by the team that shows up with energy and intention. By the families who trust us with their kids. By the friends who check in and show they care. Inspiration isn't reserved for grand gestures. It's in the everyday moments, if you're paying attention. Part of Something Bigger I take pride in being part of something bigger than me. Not just the academy, but the community we've built together. The team that works alongside me. The families who show up week after week. The friends who remind me what matters. This isn't my community. It's ours. And that's what makes it powerful. When you're part of something bigger, you stop asking "What can I get?" and start asking "What can I give?" You show up not because you have to, but because you want to. Because you know your presence matters. Because you're connected to something that transcends individual achievement.

This week, I asked for peace. What I got was an opportunity to practice grace. There's a quote I keep coming back to: "I asked God for strength, and God gave me difficulties to make me strong. I asked for wisdom, and God gave me problems to solve. I asked for courage, and God gave me danger to overcome. I received nothing I wanted, but everything I needed." These past couple of weeks reminded me: Virtuous concepts like bravery, confidence, grace, and patience aren't delivered to you on a silver platter. Life, God, the universe, whatever higher power you believe in, awards you the opportunity to practice them. If you choose to do so. This week, I was faced with a co-parenting situation that required every ounce of grace I could muster. The easy path? React. Take it personally. Let anger drive the decisions. The harder path? Stay calm. Look at all the angles. Choose dialogue over defensiveness. Practicing grace in the moment is difficult. I felt my body and my thoughts; tension, shallow breathing, the urge to respond immediately. But those signals alerted me to center myself again. I remembered an older version of myself: reactive, taking things personally, making decisions without considering the impact on others. That's not who I want to be. Not for my kids. Not for myself. What Grace Really Means Grace shows up differently depending on where you're standing. From a Christian perspective, grace is unmerited favor receiving love, forgiveness, and second chances you didn't earn. It's the foundation of compassion extended freely, not because it's deserved, but because it's needed. From a Stoic perspective, grace is accepting what you cannot control while acting with virtue on what you can. It's the discipline to pause, assess, and respond with wisdom instead of emotion. From a leadership perspective, grace is meeting people where they are, not where you think they should be and leading with patience, even when it's hard. In real-world application? Grace is about choosing to understand over being right. It's recognizing that the person in front of you is struggling too, even if you can't see it. It's extending compassion to others, yes, but also to yourself. Forgiving yourself for being human. Releasing the need for perfection.