Maybe You Don’t Need to Start Over

Last week, two of my bride’s best friends from high school flew in to help us out after surgery. Katie came in from Georgia. Erica came in from California. Together with Nicole, they are the three amigos: childhood besties who have known each other forever. They cooked, cleaned, organized, walked with us every day, and brought a lot of love into our home at a time when we needed it most.
While Erica was here, she handed me something from her two boys: their 10-Year Letters. They are 12 and 14 years old. I read both of them, wrote each boy a note, signed a book for each, and sent everything back home with Erica. Later that day, she sent me a picture of the boys holding their books.

That picture got me because by then, I had already read what they wrote. At 12 and 14 they are already asking questions many of us don’t stop to ask until much later in life, if ever: Who do I want to become? What kind of life do I want to live? Who do I want beside me? What matters enough to start choosing now?
I had spent the previous week thinking about one question of my own: If I were building my life again from exactly where I am today, what would I choose?
At first, that sounds like a question about starting over. I don’t think it is. I think it is a question about choosing again.
If I were building my life again from exactly where I am today, I would still choose my bride. I would still choose my kids. I would still choose the people I love. I would still choose to coach, write, teach, create, and help people think more deeply about the lives they are building. I would still choose The 10-Year Letter.
I would still choose hard things. Marathons. Ironmans. The physical challenges that push me, test me, and make me better. I would still choose fishing, whitewater rafting, boating, diving, swimming with sharks, jumping out of airplanes, riding Harleys, and just about anything that reminds me I am fully alive. Hell, I still plan on racing an ostrich someday. 😂

Some of those things may look different now, and there are things my body may not let me do the exact same way anymore, but I would still choose the spirit behind all of it: the adventure, the challenge, and the willingness to do something hard, scary, or unforgettable because life is meant to be lived.
I would still choose to surround myself with people who are smarter than me, who have built extraordinary things, who share my values, challenge how I think, and make me want to grow. And yes, I would choose all of it sooner, with less hesitation and more intention.
I would give more of my time to the people and experiences that matter most. I would protect my health differently. I would say yes more intentionally and no more confidently. And I would stop living as if time is an unlimited resource.
That may be the biggest difference.
I don’t want a completely different life. I want to live the life I already have with a deeper level of intention.
That realization took me right back to why The 10-Year Letter exists in the first place. It was never about predicting the future. It was about slowing down long enough to choose one. To get honest about who you want to become, who you want beside you, what matters most, and what kind of future you’re excited to live.
Those two boys are doing that at 12 and 14, and I’m doing it again at 52.
Life changes. We change. Things happen that we never could have predicted. Sometimes the future we imagined years ago deserves another look because we are seeing it with different eyes.
After sitting with that question all week, I realized I would choose a lot of what I already have. I would just choose it sooner, with less hesitation, more intention, and a deeper appreciation for how freaking lucky I am to live it.
Maybe building your life again doesn’t mean starting over. Maybe it means choosing again.
So here’s the question I’ll leave with you: If you were building your life again from exactly where you are today, what would you choose? What would you choose again, and what would you choose differently?
Write a future you’re excited to live.
Cheers!

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