We Don’t Run Laps. We Run From Regret.

Listen up. Short one today so focus.

There’s a moment in every person’s life when the gym floor goes quiet. When the bounce of the ball fades. When the team jogs off and you’re still sitting there, lacing your shoes too slow, hoping someone notices.

They won’t.

Because this isn’t about them. It never was. It’s about what you do after the whistle blows and no one’s watching. When the scoreboard’s off and the janitor’s dragging a mop across your memories. That’s when you decide: was that your last play… or just your longest warm-up?

See, pain’s not the problem. Pain is predictable. It's the laps you didn’t run that’ll wake you up at 3 a.m. in a cold sweat whispering, “You could’ve been great.”

I coach failure. Because failure shows up. It stretches. It tapes its ankles. Success? That prima donna strolls in late and expects a trophy.

You want a legacy? Then train like your past is chasing you. Because it is. And it’s wearing your old jersey, with your name on the back… and it’s undefeated.