I have three goals right now. One has to do with working out. One has to do with writing. And one has to do with studying language. 

The working out one is going swimmingly. Three weeks in and I have not missed my goal. The language one is going ok. I’m hit and miss. But the writing one. Hot damn. You would think writing was not one of my favorite things to do.

Details in this story changed to protect the innocent and the guilty. Just kidding, I changed them because there is confidentiality privilege in coaching, duh.

I got this text from a client today:

My friend Blair, all the way over in New Zealand, was talking to her husband the other day. He is also all the way over in New Zealand, conveniently enough. She was complaining about work - the pressure, the stress, the hours, the never endingness of it - the general bullshit of it all.

Here's a story about a girl who was told she could do anything she wanted to do.

It goes like this.

Once upon a time, D was born in the U.S.--just outside Philadelphia.

I have this theory that we are all meant to be a certain age.

It goes like this.

When you are born (actually probably before you were born to be honest), you have an age range or a phase of life that is perfectly aligned with you. A Golden Age, you might say. Let's be clear, I don't mean

It all begins with an idea.

It all begins with an idea.

It all begins with an idea.

It all begins with an idea.