Be-Do-Have Insights

Have you ever had to prove your love to someone? They feared your feelings weren’t genuine, so they wanted evidence—something stronger than your words. I had to do that once. I was six years old and had the biggest crush on a girl named Ashley at the park. Now, you may not believe it, but in my six-year-old mind, I was quite the catch. I was absolutely convinced this nine-year-old girl was going to jump for joy the moment I confessed my feelings. Unfortunately, my confession

The world spun before me as I clung with a white-knuckle grip. How much longer can I hold on? I thought as I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping the world would stop spinning. This was a stupid idea. I hate heights. I hate falling from heights even more. So naturally, I found myself hanging twenty feet in the air by one muddy hand. At least… I hoped it was only twenty feet. A few months earlier, I’d convinced myself I didn’t just want to look athletic. I wanted to be athletic. Whic

Growing up, I wore glasses so I could read the board from the back of the classroom. I hated those glasses. I was already unpopular, and wearing them felt like social suicide. So I only wore them when I absolutely had to. The rest of the time, I pretended they didn’t exist. Fast forward to my early twenties. I was processing into Army basic training, and my entire focus became the upcoming eye exam. I didn’t want to fail it and get issued those horrible military glasses. Talk

There I was. Shoes laced. Headphones on. Music bumping. Hand on the doorknob. I had a Spartan Trifecta weekend to prepare for. The miles needed to be logged. And just like that — my hand let go. My feet walked to the couch. The headphones came off. Netflix came on. My body said it was tired. My brain said I “deserved” a rest day. My stomach suggested donuts. I knew what I was supposed to do. I knew doing it would move me forward. And yet, I still chose comfort. Sound familiar

It was only 2 in the afternoon, and there I was sitting in my car in a strip-mall parking lot, eating an Auntie Anne’s cinnamon pretzel… followed by a bucket of their cinnamon pretzel poppers. This was my second visit in a week. Just hours earlier, I had finished building a workout program for a new client—teaching them how to lose weight and fuel their body better. And now I was shoveling roughly 2,000 calories of sugar into my mouth. Why? Because I wasn’t happy. I was asham

Habits are the spoken language of the subconscious. They reveal what you believe about yourself—and what you believe is possible for your future. What you have today is the result of what you repeatedly do. What you repeatedly do is a reflection of what you believe is normal, safe, or deserved. Those beliefs don’t stay trapped in your head. They leak into your life. They show up in your calendar, your routines, your coping mechanisms, and even your excuses. This month, we mov

A long time ago, in a galaxy not that far away, I had a roommate. I lived with him for almost thirteen years. I know what you’re thinking: “Flynn… that’s a long time. You must’ve been close.” And you’d be right. We were like brothers. We supported each other through job transitions, loss of family members, and seasons that felt heavier than we expected. But thirteen years was too long. I should have moved out years earlier. The signs were there — painfully obvious in hindsigh

Most people don’t lack motivation—they lack clarity. Inside every stalled goal is a quiet tug-of-war between desire and fear. This month’s reflection helps you name that conflict and understand why wanting change isn’t enough.

I’m going to share a secret with you… so don’t tell anyone: I hate change. That’s right. You read that correctly. I hate it. Which might sound strange coming from someone who lived in five different states before turning twenty and then voluntarily served in the military for ten years—fully aware that I could be sent to some random location at a moment’s notice. Back then, I had a First Sergeant who reminded us at every formation: “Be Gumby.” Why? Because our orders could ch