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It’s been almost two years since the Financial Crisis began here in America. I’ve been thinking about how this massive shift in our economy and job market has impacted my life. It’s not something you’re aware of at the time, but the Financial Crisis made an impact on my life in many different ways.

The most obvious is that I chose to enroll in graduate school to earn my MBA. I know it’s cliché, but when the economy takes a plunge, people go back to school because there is not much room for growth in the job market. Or because it’s not clear whether or not their company will be strong enough to endure the recession.  Although both of these fears rattled around in my head, the primary reason I went back to school was because I wanted to get a graduate degree before my family got any larger. I had flirted with the idea two years prior, but it was more important to focus on wedding, a new marriage, a baby…

The Crisis had impact other parts of my life as well. The story isn’t over yet, but one could guess that it’s been difficult for me and everyone else was invested in land, houses, or buildings. I don’t have enough time or humility to write any more about it, but I will say that I had to redirect my creativity and passion for building into new things.

I focused intensely on building Life Teen into a better organization through innovative websites that served as tools for our staff. Plus I tried to improve my level of professionalism, time management, and to improve the projects where I collaborated with other teams. Of course, these were not new priorities to me, but how I did it changed—I invested all of my creativity and passion because it had nowhere else to go.

Finally, I focused more on my relationships, particularly with Candyce and Norah. I know this should be an obvious choice for a husband and father, but it’s easy to be distracted by the “projects of life” and miss those golden moments with my family. A product of this refocusing on the family was Candyce and I starting a small ministry for newlywed couples. We figured that we weren’t the only couple to struggle in our first year of marriage, so we decided to do what we could to help younger couples through the challenges of early marriage. So far we’ve worked with four couples and it’s been terrific. Again, this is a different type of building and investing for me.

In the end, I think the biggest lesson that I’ve learned from the Financial Crisis is that success is not the guaranteed outcome of hardworking people. Plus once you have success, it’s not permanent. I guess the good news is that the inverse is also not guaranteed: that hardworking people can achieve success, and that depression is not permanent. Regardless of how you look at it, I’m not going to reduce life to a series of investments. Life is too good to be wasted obsessing over money.

Yesterday we ran in the Pat Tilman Run in downtown Tempe. Candyce and I trained for a couple months to build up our endurance to finish the 4.2 miles with strength. I knew all along that we could do it, but Candyce had never run in a race that long and had her doubts whether she could run the whole way. Her fear was enough to make our training intense and consistent.

We are the champions.

The run was beautiful. It was exciting to cross the Tempe Town Lake and run through the south end of Papago Park.  I was proud to push Norah in her running stroller because I love my little girl and I want her to experience this kind of thing. (Note to self: start the race with the 7-minute miler because the 10-minute milers are really just walkers who are delusional.)

The stands at Sun Devil stadium were packed with cheering friends and fans. We crossed the finish line with great sense of accomplishment. We ran and we ran hard.

To celebrate, we met friends and family who also ran at La Grande Orange for a festive brunch. There were dozens of other runners there, all sporting their race number pinned to their chest. The place was glowing with pride. This is why I’ve become a huge advocate for these road races–because it builds pride in yourself and in your community. Plus, exercise makes you look hotter and live longer. What could be wrong with that?

I will avoid chastising people who do not exercise, because I understand that it’s difficult to keep exercise as a top priority in your life. It’s rare to find an adult who has exercised consistently throughout their adulthood, that is, unless that someone is a professional athlete. There are just too many big life experiences that demand your attention. My post-college years were active for sure–working in the yard, on the house, traveling–but I wasn’t getting my heart thumping.

Lucky for me, life changes. Candyce and I have been married for two years, and we’ve run several times a week through most of those 24 months. It’s a huge part of our lifestyle together.  We enjoy the weather, nature, and looking at the beautiful homes in our neighborhood. We talk to each other and share about our day. It’s wonderful. For the past seven months, I’ve had the added bonus of buckling baby Norah in the running stroller and pushing her down the streets of my neighborhood. She loves adventures outside of the house, and that makes me and Candyce happy.

Norah bundled up in her stroller on a cool evening, taken in January of this year.

Today we’re not running. We’re relaxing and letting our bodies rest after yesterday’s race. We’re feeling good. …I know that hot summer months are coming and they aren’t the best condition for running. This makes me sad if I think too much about it. Candyce and I have talked about how it will be more difficult to exercise as our family grows in the years to come.  I imagine that our life together may get more complicated as our years unfold. Who knows if we will be able to continue to exercise as consistently as we do today? I certainly don’t. But what I do know is that Candyce and I will always remember these first two years together as being blissfully active. And we’ll always be pressed to recreate this feeling for the rest of our life together.

When I first started traveling around the country in 2000, every destination was exotic and glorious, mostly because it I grew up in a sleepy town in the rural South. My friends and I joked that we had a lower suicide rate than big cities because there were no building you could jump from with hopes of ending your life. The closest we came to scraping the sky was our two-story courthouse. At most, you would twist an ankle if you stepped off the roof.

However, after ten years of heavy traveling, the United States is starting to seem like a smaller place. This afternoon I will travel to Rhode Island and finish in Massachusetts, a region of the country I’ve traveled to at least a dozen times. I’ve made at least twenty trips to the New York / Long Island, and just as many to Southern California. These places are no longer foreign to me; they are more like suburbs of my life separated only by a flight.

Earlier this month I made a quick trip to Denver to speak at a couple events. My most vivid memory of Denver comes from 2003 when I went on tour with Third Day through five cities in the West. By the time was made it to Denver, I was tired of living in arenas and the tour bus. I stumbled out of the bus early that morning and–barely awake–I walked away from the Pepsi Center with hopes of finding adventure in the city. On my way out of the parking lot I peeked through the windows of a cool bar inside of a historic brick building. In the five or so years since that trip, I’ve recalled the site of that building and wondered what has become of it. I was hoping on this trip into town we would maybe drive by. The crazy thing is that one of the events I spoke at was in the basement of that bar. How awesome is that?

It is satisfying to reconnect with a place that once new. The shimmer is gone, but in it’s place is something that is better–familiarity. I am at a point in my life where traveling for the sake of traveling is not as rewarding as it used to be. If I do travel, I want to bring Candyce and Norah with me. And if that’s not possible, the next best thing is to travel to an area that is familiar.

A couple weeks ago I celebrated my 30th birthday in San Diego. Candyce and I left Norah in the care of Grandmother and three aunts and we headed to downtown to enjoy a night in the city. We had dinner at Café Chloe, a charming French restaurant in the East Village. After exploring downtown arm-in-arm, we drove to Little Italy to have espresso. It was a cold and foggy night and we seemed like the only couple on the street. We enjoyed the solitude–the city was our own.

Shortly after Candyce and I got back into Phoenix, my mom, dad, and grandmother arrived in town. They enjoyed meeting their new grand daughter. We had a great time hanging out over the long weekend. (As usual, Dad helped me finish some odd jobs around the house: repaired tiles on the step, finished wiring hallway light switch, and patched a drywall hole in the wall.)

Now I am in the White Mountains of eastern Arizona for my “official” 30th birthday celebration. I feel like joining a new decade of life warrants a reflection on the previous decade. It would take too long to write something profound and life-changing for a reader, but I have too much going on to do something that noble. So instead I’ll just record the random thoughts spinning in my head in the two weeks since I turned 30:

1. I refuse to complain about aging because it is in poor taste.
There’s nothing more pathetic than claiming that 30 is the new 20. It sounds absurd and foolish, because trying to live in someone else’s decade is just that—absurd and foolish. It smells of insecurity. Act your own age.

Don’t misunderstand me: if you are 50 and you feel as optimistic, energetic, and passionate as when you were 20, that’s fine. Good for you. I hope to be just like you some day! But I’m not going to assemble a lifestyle so that a stranger would assume I am younger than I actually am. I’m 30 and proud of it. Afterall, someone around here have to act like a grown up.

2. Humor is a gift.
Like most gifts, humor can be misused. Don’t use your humor to tear other people down. Negative humor like sarcasm causes distrust which will make you lose friends. If you can be funny and positive at the same time, you’ll be a happier person and you’ll make more friends.

3. Fame was very good to me.
I was able to travel the world and help people. If you find yourself famous some day, I encourage you to do the same. Fame, like most things in life, is temporary. (Very few people will live and die famous.) You will have every chance to use your fame to delight in the pleasures of the world, but you soon the spotlight will pass and you’ll be left to reconcile who you were when the world was watching.

4. Diversify your investment portfolio.
No really. Do it. If you are afraid to pull your money out of market because the returns are so dazzling, then you are probably in a bubble.

5. Everyone needs compassion.
Here’s the deal: we all have flaws. That’s right, all of us. And which one of us doesn’t need more compassion? Try not to judge others. It is impossible to judge someone one and love them at the same time. I’ve tried, and believe me, it doesn’t work that way. If someone is being aggressive or spiteful towards me, I learned to first greet them with compassion. Compassion has a unique ability to disarm hostility.

6. I have no tolerance for arrogant people.
Arrogance is a tool for an insecure person to become the center of attention, surrounded by other insecure people who need their approval. There is nothing fun or life-giving in those circles of friends. What is ironic about arrogance is that anyone can be arrogant. Anyone! There are no requirements for success, charm, intelligence, or life experience. You just have to wake up one day and decide that you are better than everyone else and start to treat others poorly. If you choose to be arrogant, we won’t be hanging out together.

7. It’s good to be a fan.
Following a sports team adds richness to you life. It connects you to your city and to other people. Becoming a fan of the Phoenix Suns has given me countless good parties with good people watching a good team. What more could you want? Just be sure to “diversify” your sports portfolio so you aren’t disheartened when your one-and-only team doesn’t win the championship. Cheer for several teams and you’re guaranteed an occasion to celebrate each year.

8. Tattoos last forever.
Your taste will change over the years, and you want to have a tattoo that you can be proud of in each decade of your life. I have found little evidence that your interests in high school and college are worth commemorating in a tattoo. There’s no shame in waiting till later in life to get a tattoo. If after much thought you’re positive that you want to get a tattoo, save up a lot of money so you can hire a talented tattoo artist. This is a piece of artwork that you will keep for a lifetime, so it’s worth getting the best.

9. Very few people today seek truth.
People are very proud of their opinions and they will share them often, even if they don’t know what they are talking about. You get a high when you share an opinion. You feel important, smart, and powerful all at once. I have not met many people who have enough fortitude to slow down and learn about an issue before they form an opinion.

What makes things worse is that people often adopt opinions for no other reason than because it’s a popular opinion. Now you’re not just one person who feels important, smart, and powerful, but a member of a crowd that is important, smart, and powerful. We are a gregarious species. I can’t imagine we’re going to progress as a society if our discourse is a popularity contest and not a means by which we uncover truth.

10. I love Candyce.
I didn’t think I would wait so long before I got married, but I am glad that I was patient and waiting for the right one. Candyce is beautiful friend that I am very happy to spend my life with. What could be better than going on a date everyday? I cannot understand why people complain about their spouses. I mean, aren’t you the one that chose to marry that person?

11. I love being a father.
A guy cannot understand himself fully until he becomes a father. Males have traits that are not appreciated in the life of a single 20-something. But as you hold your newborn baby, those traits rise to the surface, and you become twice the man you were the day before. It’s an exhilarating transition.

I’m trying to get rid of as many things as possible because I’m unnerved about the number of “baby boxes” that are shipped to my house everyday. Candyce and I made a pact that we wouldn’t purchase anything unnecessary for our newborn, so I trust that these boxes contain only the essentials. But those essentials are adding up fast.

Since I cannot stand clutter, I’ve spent the last three days exploring my house with hopes of finding unnecessary possessions. If this new stuff has to stay, then this old stuff has gotta go!

I’ve already eliminated 99% of my “nostalgic stuff” from my home shortly after I got married. That means I trashed at least 150 pounds of stuff from The Real World, college, Boy Scouts, high school, and various art classes. These all were fished out of the boxes marked “keepsakes” that I dragged from house to house. I could not have been happier than the day I dragged my black trash barrel to the curb because I knew that once the trash truck flipped that barrel upside down, there was no turning back.

So honestly, there wasn’t much left to throw away. That is until I decided to see what was inside a footlocker my dad gave me two months ago from his years in the Navy. For the record, my dad brings stuff from his house in Georgia every time he comes out Arizona. My guess is that Mom wouldn’t let him throw the stuff away and muscled him into bringing it out to me. So as their house became more simple, mine became more cluttered.

Junk in the Trunk

I popped the latches open and then lifted the lid and got a waft of crypt-like air from Mom and Dad’s basement. I lifted away the layers of old T-shirts, yearbooks, photo album, CD cases, and letters from girls.

Over the next two hours, I held each item and tried to remember the moment in my life when that item meant a lot to me. Once the nostalgia evaporated away, I ceremoniously dropped each item into the metal trash can. That includes about 75 CDs.

I mean really, what do you do with old CDs? I converted most of my music to MP3s two years ago, and do you know what? I haven’t touched those MP3s since. It seems like too much of a hassle to go digging for them on my hard drive. All the music I could ever need is on Rhapsody.

I decided to sell those grunge/alternative CDs to a trendy music store in my neighborhood. He slid the stack back across the counter and flatly stated: “I can’t do anything with these.” I ended up donating them to a music store on 7th Avenue downtown because the store was cool (think High Fidelity) and I knew they needed a lot of help to keep their doors open. So here I am on my second round of music, and I didn’t even bother ripping them onto my hard drive. I just threw them away.

Welcome Freshman

The last two items in the footlocker were two yearbooks from a huge part of my life:

1. Young Harris College 1996-1997
2. Georgia Tech 1997-1998

Young Harris College had a fantastic program that allowed local high school students to attend classes like college kids. This was a big deal to me because I had too much ambition to sit around my senior year and pretend to be king. In a lot of ways, YHC was the high school that I always wanted.

First of all, I couldn’t believe that these things are 10 and 11 years old. A lot can happen in eleven years. A couple weeks ago I hosted a week at Camp Covecrest for teenagers who were toddlers at the time that yearbook was printed. That blew my mind.

I eagerly flipped through the pages of both yearbooks and saw the names and faces of classmates I’d forgotten about. This made me happy. So I went on Facebook to look up some of my favorite people and see what they are up to. I could not find anyone! What’s the deal here?

Everyone in those yearbooks are around age 30 now, and maybe they don’t waste their time with social networks. Who knows? I’m concerned that this is becoming a trend in my life. Nobody from The Real World New Orleans cast showed up for The Real World 20th Anniversary earlier this year. It was just me representing the seven of us. It seems like everyone I met between ages 18 and 21 have disappeared from the face of the earth. I care about these people and it would be nice to know how they are doing. (So if you are reading this and you were in one of those yearbooks, send me an email!)

So now my teens and twenties are reduced to a cardboard box just large enough to hold a pair of Dr. Martens.