TALLAHASSEE, Florida – Throughout my life, I’ve had varying definitions of success.

In high school, it was all about the accolades – All-Conference, All-County, my scoring average in golf, championships won, National Honor Society, what college I got into.

College? Social capital reigned supreme. How many friends did I have? How many people were showing up to our parties? Which sororities were we partying with?

My 20s were the era of autonomy. How much freedom did I have over my schedule? Could I pick and choose what I wanted to do, on any given day? If the answer was yes, it was a successful day.

I loved that era.

I’d recommend it to anybody in their 20s, and I’d do it again if I had to relive that decade of my life.

The last few years, after the birth of my son, my barometer for success came down to how much time I could spend with my family. I’d recommend that as well, and it’s still something I try to maximize.

But now? As a husband of five years and a father of two?

Success, to me, as I’ve come to define it as my biggest lesson of 2025, is being excited to go to work, and excited to go home.

That’s a quote, I believe, from Will Ahmed, the founder and CEO of WHOOP, and when I read it — I forget where — it struck me to my core. Not because it’s especially profound, but because it put into words what I had been trying to explain to myself for who knows how long.

I’ve written before about how Fatherhood has been the death of much of my materialistic and hierarchical ambition.

In an age where we can measure everything – bank account, followers, subscribers, impressions, views, salary, status, neighborhood, which school your kids either attend or soon will, the list goes on – success has become increasingly quantifiable.

But success, to me, has become less about what can be measured, and instead by what can’t.

Tony Robbins explained, on an episode of the Modern Wisdom Podcast with Chris Williamson, that the quality of your life is the quality of your emotions.

“If you have a million dollars, and every day, you’re feeling habitually frustrated, stressed, and overwhelmed, your life is called frustrated, stressed, and overwhelmed,” he said on that episode. “If you have three beautiful children and a great husband or wife, and every day, you worry, your life is not love, your life is worried. It doesn’t matter how you have this beautiful family.

“Emotions control the quality of your life.” 

Together, Ahmed and Robbins explained to me, better than I could have explained to myself, what I’ve come to view as my definition of success.

It surprises some people, that I’m able to function as well as I do off very little sleep. I think it has less to do with my ability to function off minimal sleep — and, let’s be real, a lot of coffee — than it does my genuine excitement for the day, almost every one of them.

I’m excited to walk around our lake, basking in that pre-dawn quiet.

I’m excited to see my early morning gym crew and get a lift in.

I’m excited to read on our front porch as the sun begins to rise.

I’m excited to write whatever needs written that day, or record whatever podcast needs recording.

I’m excited to hear the monitor crackle with my son’s waking, letting me know that my SANDCAST work is over, and my family time begins.

I’m excited to play with my son and daughter and make and eat breakfast with them.

And I’m excited to get to Florida State, to practice plan with Brooke Niles and Nick Lucena, to get on the sand and work for a few hours. I’m excited to modify practices on the fly and crack jokes with the girls and move around for a bit. I’m excited to recap practice with the coaches and watch film and B.S. around the office with the girls until it’s time to go home.

And, goodness, am I excited to go home.

To go play in the dirt with my son, or visit a construction site, or ride a bike, or dig up stuff in the yard, or drop by the playground.

I’m excited to hear my daughter’s ubiquitous giggles for no other reason than because she’s 10 months old, and life is apparently so dang funny to a 10-month old.

I’m excited to relieve my wife, Delaney, of the kids, so she can go dive into her own expression of creativity and excitement in the kitchen.

And, oh yes, I am excited, so incredibly excited, to sing my son his final good night song, to close the door and walk quietly downstairs, where Delaney and I will just sit for a bit, in blessed silence. I’m excited to maybe watch a show, or maybe continue to sit there, doing nothing, or maybe read – whatever the mood of the evening calls for.

And I’m excited to do it all over again.