There's a version of you that has done everything right. You've worked harder than most. You've shown up when you didn't want to. You've built discipline rooted in systems and a life that, from the outside, looks like it's working. And yet somewhere underneath all of it, underneath the calendar and the commitments and the performance, there's a quiet, persistent weight you can't seem to put down. Not failure. Not a crisis. Just this: the sense that you're working harder than

And why trying harder is probably making it worse. I want to tell you something that took me a long time to see. And I mean that literally — I had to lose most of what defined me before I could see it. When I was competing professionally in Freestyle-BMX, I was all action. More training. More reps. More willpower. I believed — genuinely believed — that the answer to every problem I had in my life was in what I was doing or not doing. So I would do more. Try to do it better. D

What if the most powerful thing a coach can do is refuse to give you the answer?

What if solving the problem is what's reinforcing it? That's not a rhetorical question. It's the one that changed how I do everything. Most driven people — founders, athletes, executives, parents, solopreneurs — operate on a simple internal agreement: if something isn't working, work harder on it. If you're stuck, push through. If you're falling short, find the gap and fix it. That approach built careers. It built mine. But at a certain point, it stops being a strategy and st

I Was 31 When I Broke Up With My First Love Six years ago, I walked away from my childhood dream. What I wasn’t aware of was the fact I was breaking up with the first thing I truly loved. At least, that’s what Jackie helped me realize. Funny enough, it’s a chapter title in my upcoming book that I credit to her, “Breaking Up With My First Love.” She said this to me during the pandemic, just months after choosing to walk away from BMX and being left to process what my body fel

Most stress isn’t about the event. It’s about the disagreement we have with reality and the meaning we unknowingly attach to it. We resist what’s happening now. (Present stress) We regret what already happened. (Holding onto past stress) We brace against what might happen next. (Future-based stress) Whether it’s a person, a situation, or even yourself, stress is the nervous system’s way of alerting you that you’re arguing with what is. Not consciously. Automatically and roote

We’ve all been told that if we just work harder, we’ll get ahead. More discipline. More grit. More hours. But the truth is simpler and more confronting. High performance isn’t built on effort. It’s built on awareness. Even more confronting, with more awareness comes more stress, until you learn how to work with what you begin to see. You can be the most disciplined, relentless person in the room and still feel stuck. Still feel strained. Still feel like something isn’t clicki

What if the key to high performance wasn’t about pushing through pressure, but dissolving it altogether?

MITO started as a question I couldn’t ignore anymore. Why do capable, driven people know what they want—and still secretly struggle to experience it? Not occasionally. Consistently. They read the books. They set the goals. They work hard. Yet something invisible keeps pulling them back into the same patterns of pressure, overthinking, self-sabotage, burnout, or a feeling of being strangely disconnected from a life they’ve worked hard to build. On paper, they seem to have it a

I used to think performance was everything. Push harder. Go faster. Prove them wrong. Prove myself right. Back then, performance lived in my body as tension. A constant tightening in my gut. A background hum that never shut off. Slowing down didn’t feel like rest—it felt dangerous. Like if I stopped, even for a moment, something essential would collapse. From the outside, it looked like I was living the dream. Sponsorships. Riding in the X Games. Traveling the world. A career