THE BEGINNING (AGAIN)

A Shift Worker’s Paradox entry — December 11th

There’s a moment before any long journey when the air feels heavy with both intention and doubt. This is mine.

At midnight tonight, I begin the year I’ve been talking about, the year where I live the very principles I wrote about. Could I have started earlier? Probably. But I waited for my watch to arrive. It sounds trivial, maybe it is, but we all reach for something to anchor us.

Some people need a coach. Some need a calendar. I need a device on my wrist to center the process. Not because it’s required, but because it’s my process.

In The Shift Worker’s Paradox, I warn against over-reliance on metrics, reminding readers that data is a flashlight, not a floodlight. Useful, directional, but never the whole truth.

And yet here I am, questioning how much weight to give the numbers.

Do I chase the workouts? Do I tighten the nutrition? Do I try to optimize both? We all know the phrase: you can’t out train a bad diet. From an energy and caloric perspective, that’s true enough.

But the fundamentals still govern the system: sleep, movement, nutrition. Move more. Eat with intention. Protect rest when you can. That’s the spine of the work.

I don’t drink or smoke, which helps. I’ll layer habits as the year builds, starting with creatine. I use Creapure™: 10 grams before night shift, 10 grams after. Not for aesthetics, but for neuroprotection during periods of limited sleep.

The evidence is evolving, useful, promising, not definitive, but the risk profile is low, and the potential upside is meaningful. It aligns with the framework in the book: weigh benefit, cost, and harm. Choose accordingly.

And still, I am learning to give myself grace.

Life does not pause so we can improve ourselves. Life interrupts, crowds, demands, breaks rhythm. Life happens, and beating yourself up for that truth is wasted energy.

The season brings its own darkness. A little of it has settled inside me, the kind that makes you aware of how fragile it all is. A single moment, a single turn, can change the entire landscape.

I like to imagine I am resilient, as many of us do, until the day that belief is tested.

But for now, resilience looks less like bravado and more like quiet motion: one step in front of another, choosing to move forward.

And for whatever it’s worth, both my WHOOP and my Garmin Fenix 8 insist my biological age is 61.5—just another imperfect metric, but one I can track, record, and watch shift as the work and the recovery unfolds. For the record, I’m 57—with clear room for improvement.

Tonight begins the year. Not a perfect start—just a real one. And that’s enough.