Morning Me Has Always Been My Favorite
Peace, presence, and play before 7 am 🌅
I've always been a morning person.
Not because I read it in a productivity book. Not because I set six alarms with motivational labels. Just… because.
It's how I'm wired. I pop up early. Usually by 6:30. Sometimes earlier. Occasionally, I "sleep in" until 7:30 like I'm some rebellious teenager.
The truth is: I love the morning.
I love the quiet. I love the sunlight starting to creep in. I love that weird in-between hour where the world hasn't revved up yet, but you can feel it stretching its arms.
Even in college, when I stayed up too late playing poker, watching SportsCenter on repeat, or wandering through the fog of late-night parties, something about the next morning still felt redemptive. Like, no matter how sloppy the night was, if I could catch the sunrise, I still had a shot.
Years later, triathlon training gave my mornings a mission.
Suddenly, I wasn't just getting up early because it felt good. I was getting up to move. Swim, bike, run, push. Repeat. Sleep mattered. Prep mattered. I'd lay out my gear the night before like a kid before the first day of school. No decision fatigue in the morning—wake, fuel, go.
Eventually, I started coaching, and mornings got bigger. I wasn't just showing up for myself anymore. I was setting the tone for an entire crew. Dozens of athletes counted on me to be organized, energized, and able to turn every little hiccup, forgotten gear, and late arrival into a moment of growth. Turns out, it's incredible what you can pull off with a spreadsheet, some pre-written texts, and just the right playlist to cue the warmup jog.
Then… fatherhood.
Let's just say: kids are the undefeated champions of disrupting routines. My carefully laid-out mornings started getting body-checked by tag wars, breakfast banter, and impromptu living room soccer practice.
Don't get me wrong, I love it. But let's be clear: the vibe shifts when your sunrise solitude turns into WWE meets cereal negotiations.
So over the years, I've tested a lot of different morning rituals. Some were too rigid. Some were too soft. But lately, I've found a groove again, and it's got just enough structure to guide me without setting me up to fail if a dog throws up or the boys decide to tussle at 7:12 a.m.
This morning, I revisited an old favorite: Hal Elrod's SAVERS method. If you've read The Miracle Morning, you know the gist. If not, here's the breakdown:
Silence (meditation, breathwork, prayer)
Affirmations (positive self-talk that aligns with who you want to be)
Visualization (mental rehearsal of goals or best-case scenarios)
Exercise (anything to move your body)
Reading (inspiration, insight, or just something that stretches you)
Scribing (journaling, reflecting, clearing the mental gunk)
Now, I've never been the kind of person to follow a method to the exact letter. But I love the intent behind this one. My current remix borrows the bones but plays its own tune:
Silence → Usually a walk with the dogs. Sometimes a short meditation. Occasionally, just sipping something on the patio with no music, no phone, just me and the breeze.
Movement → A little yoga. Some bodyweight stuff. A shakeout walk. If the boys are already up, it might just be dodging a thrown pillow.
Motivation → A short affirmation. Sometimes it's in the music. Sometimes it's just repeating "Show up calm. Show up clear. Show up kind." until I believe it.
Learning + Reflecting → I'll throw on a book or podcast while I move, or sit and read a few pages of something that gets my brain going. Lately, I've been jotting down a line or two of some reflection. Sometimes it's profound. Sometimes it's "stay more present."
Music usually scores the whole thing. I've got playlists for "get moving," "get grounded," and "get your sh*t together." They help. So does the light.
The biggest thing I've learned?
You don't need a perfect morning.
You need a moment of intention.
That might be a five-minute walk. A deep breath before chaos. A line in a journal. A beat that hits just right while you stir your coffee.
When I give myself just a little space in the morning, the rest of the day feels more like something I get to navigate instead of something I have to survive.
And that version of me, the one who gets a little quiet, a little movement, a little spark, he's the one I trust most to show up for my kids, my partner, my work, and myself.
So yeah. I'll always be a morning person.
Even when I don't get it "right," the morning still meets me where I am.
And that's enough to keep showing up.