My wife and son give me direction. They’re the North Star and the compass, the “you’ve got this” when I don’t, and the reason I get out of bed (sometimes before 6am, thanks Ollie).
It’s not about grand gestures or cinematic speeches. It’s the little things: wanting to be the kind of man my son can look up to. Wanting my wife to feel supported, safe, and like she’s got a teammate who brings more to the table than just gluten-free pasta and bad dad jokes.
They make me want to be better—not because I have to, but because they deserve it. And on the days I feel like I’m running on empty, they remind me why I’m still running at all.
That’s direction. Not a perfect map, but the reason to keep going.



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