The Mid-Day Pivot
I used to chase the sunrise on my runs. Now, I chase the breakfast chaos. I’ve traded my "ideal" morning miles for early afternoon rucks while the kids nap. It’s not about the perfect schedule anymore—it’s about being the anchor when they wake up.
If you asked the "University version" of me what a perfect day looked like, it involved a sunrise run and a day of total autonomy. But life has a funny way of upgrading your software.
Now, as a husband and a dad of two, my "perfect day" isn't about my schedule—it's about being the person everyone else can lean on. If I had my way (and if the mortgage didn't exist), I’d spend every waking hour just being there. No decks, no data, just Dad.
Finding the Third Window
To make that work, I’ve become a bit of a time-thief. I find my professional flow in the margins: the quiet, pre-dawn hours while the house is still, or the deep stillness of the night. That’s when the "fractional executive" comes alive, obsessing over the perfect client presentation and getting the data to tell the right story.
But the biggest shift hasn't been when I work—it’s when I run.
Before kids, the morning run was my ritual. Now? That’s breakfast time. That’s the "how did you sleep?" and the "where are your shoes?" time. I wouldn't trade that chaos for any personal best on a stopwatch.
Instead, I’ve found my "Third Window": the early afternoon.
The Strategic Break
When the house hits that mid-day lull—when the kids are napping or taking a break—that’s when I lace up. Whether it’s hitting the gym, a solid run at that newly discovered 4:30/km pace, or a heavy rucking session (which still satisfies that old Judo itch for a struggle), this is my reset.
The Trade-off: I give up the "ideal" morning light to ensure I’m present for the morning milk and the afternoon return from activities.
In marketing, we talk a lot about "optimization." We’re always looking for the most efficient way to reach an audience. But in my personal life, optimization isn't about speed—it's about alignment.
Rucking through the Transitions
Rucking is a lot like fatherhood, actually. You’re carrying a heavy load, it’s a bit of a grind, and you have to find a rhythm that works for the long haul. You don't do it because it’s easy; you do it because it makes you stronger for everything else.
By the time the kids are back from their afternoon activities, I’ve cleared the mental cobwebs. I’ve done the heavy lifting—physically and professionally. I can close the laptop, put away the ruck, and just be "Dad" again.
The day gives me the energy; the family gives me the perspective. Everything else is just details.