I walked out the front door without looking back. Eighteen years and it was over.

I’ve been waking up in the mornings with just enough time to walk to work. Sometimes I don’t even brush my teeth first.

I was thirty years-old when I first became certified as a personal trainer. In a profession that favors youth, this was later than most. I didn’t care. The thought of fitting in never crossed my mind.

I don’t want to take responsibility. I want to be pissed off.

“Where in your life have you been lulled into comfort—and the cost has been your own growth and forward momentum?”

After years of security—same job, same home—I’m reckoning with the complacency that brought me here, stuck at the top of a ladder leaning against the wrong wall.