There’s the life we lead, and the life we want to lead.

I often picture them as a Venn diagram. How much is overlapping in the middle? Are they aligned? Or are they two completely separate circles?

In one circle, there’s a version of me I once was: drinking, eating poorly, staying up too late, being lazy, entitled, bratty.

In the other, there’s a version of me I admire: hard-working, fit, kind, grateful, independent, successful.

Both of these versions are me. I am them.

That’s what blows my mind. I am the version that puts things off, and the version that gets ahead.

I am the one who makes excuses, and the one who shows up early and stays late.

I am the one who drinks too much and eats poorly, and I am the one who runs in the morning and hydrates like it’s a full-time job.

How is it possible that two completely different lives exist inside the same person? What powers that split?

In genetics, we talk about genotype and phenotype. Your genotype is the full set of genes you carry. Your phenotype is what’s actually expressed. Think of it like a cabinet full of paint — your genotype is the cabinet, and your phenotype is the color you choose to paint your room.

I think that’s what’s happening with these different versions of me. I carry all of them inside me. The version I admire and the version I don’t. What makes the difference is the set of choices I make every day — the expression of one version over the other.

You’ve probably heard the advice to make your bed first thing in the morning. That it sets the tone for your day. I think it’s part of this same idea. When you wake up and make your bed, you’re honoring a commitment. You’re telling yourself: I am someone who does what they say they’ll do.

And when you follow through, you strengthen that identity. You reinforce a message: when I say I’m going to do something, I do it. No negotiation. No delay. No excuses.

But when you skip it — when you say you’ll make the bed and then don’t — you reinforce a different message. That your word is flexible. That it’s fine to miss it. That little things don’t matter.

But they do. Because little things stack. One small decision leads to another. And eventually, those choices determine which version of you you’re becoming.

We are never still. Not truly. Our atoms are always vibrating. We are energy in motion.

That’s the quiet genius of Einstein’s equation, E = MC². We’ve all seen it, but it didn’t hit me until later in life: he put energy and mass on opposite sides of the same equation. We, as beings of mass, are also beings of energy. We are never static — even when we feel stuck, we’re still in motion.

We’re always moving in a direction. We’re either drifting toward the life we want, or drifting away from it. That might sound intense or exhausting, but it’s a truth I tried to ignore for a long time.

It finally clicked for me through running. I accepted that I couldn’t work out once and stay fit forever. I couldn’t run one marathon and be ready for the next. Running requires consistent commitment. Which means sleep. Nutrition. Recovery. Strength. Community. It all connects.

Fitness didn’t just become a habit. It shaped how I make decisions. That’s the magic of it.

You might feel like you have two versions of yourself, too — the one you admire, and the one you want to move away from. And wherever you are right now, you have the power to either maintain it (if you’re aligned with who you want to be), or change it (if you’re not).

We can always adjust. Always move forward. We are energy. We were never meant to be still.

We can grow. Shrink. Expand. Explore all the different versions of who we are and who we might become.

I never grew up thinking I was athletic. If I could meet my 10-year-old self and tell him that one day he’d run the New York City Marathon, be in the best shape of his life at 39, and feel even stronger at 40, he would’ve laughed. I saw myself as a geeky kid who liked computer games. Not a “jock.” Not an athlete. That was someone else’s lane.

And yet…

Me, at 39, crossing the finish line of the NYC Marathon — living proof that we’re never stuck, never done growing, and always capable of becoming someone we once thought we’d never be.

What version of you are you expressing right now? What version are you growing into? I’d love to hear where you are in your journey.