Today was one of my last lectures of the year—not the last class, but my final lecture. We’ve still got a guest speaker and final presentations, but the lecture baton has been passed. I like to leave the last class open for students to ask anything—about my career, my experience, or even mistakes I’ve made. I also share my LinkedIn and email, because I genuinely love staying connected. Watching former students go out into the world and crush it is one of the best parts of the job.
One question I always get:
“How do you balance everything you do?”
And every year, I give the same answer:
It all ties back to a concept I teach called the Entrepreneurial Operating System (EOS)—from the book Traction by Gino Wickman.
Let me explain.
EOS for Life (Not Just Startups)
In Traction, Wickman lays out six key categories that every founder should manage intentionally. But this isn’t just business advice. It’s life advice disguised as a corporate framework.
Here’s the cheat sheet:
1. Vision
If you don’t know where you’re going, any road will get you lost. You need a vision—and your team needs to know it too. Without a shared destination and aligned values, you’re just a bunch of smart people rowing in different directions. That’s how startups become expensive failures.
2. People
You need the right people in the right seats. Hire for alignment, not just aptitude. Misaligned teams don’t grow—they fracture or hit a ceiling. If you’ve ever worked with a “brilliant but toxic” teammate, you know what I’m talking about.
3. Data
Everyone needs a scoreboard. If your team doesn’t know whether they’re winning or losing, they’ll eventually stop caring. KPIs aren’t corporate jargon—they’re your compass for performance and health of your organization.
4. Issues
Every organization has problems. What separates the pros from the amateurs is how aggressively they tackle them. Avoiding problems is like ignoring smoke in the kitchen—eventually, the whole house goes up.
5. Process
Documented, repeatable, and controlled. Those are the magic words. A process isn’t a prison—it’s a safety net. Especially as your team grows, you want people to own the process, not just follow it. Eliminate, automate, delegate—that’s the playbook.
6. Traction
Stephen Covey has a great metaphor: If you fill a jar with sand first, there’s no room for the medium and big rocks. But if you start with the big rocks, then add the smaller ones, the sand fills in the cracks. Translation? Prioritize what matters most—then fit the rest in around it.
My Big Rocks
So, when a student asks me how I “fit everything in,” I give them the Covey visual and tell them this:
I start with my big rocks.
I have four:
1. Family
My biggest, most important rock. Everything else can fall apart, but if I’ve got them—I’ve got enough.
This weekend was peak dad mode: Cub Scout campout with my son, then racing to coach his baseball tournament. My daughter turned five—still not sure how that happened. I’m also lucky that my parents live 20 minutes away. I once read that 80% of the time you spend with your parents happens before age 19. I’ve thankfully beaten those odds.
(And yes, my wife Jackie gets her own rock. She’s not just part of the “family” rock. She’s the foundation.)
2. Jackie
We’ve been together for 17 years. That’s long enough to drive, but not graduate.
We’ve grown up together—no one knows me better. When it was just the two of us, we could be 100% husband and wife. Add kids to the mix and now we’re 70% mom/dad, 30% married couple, on a good week. You have to choose to be intentional with your roles. Otherwise, you become glorified co-managers of a tiny, chaotic startup called “family.”
3. Work
Yes, it pays the bills. But more than that, it gives me purpose. I get to lead a team, solve problems, and grow in the process.
Growth isn’t linear. It’s exponential—and messy. Zoom out, and you’ll see compounding experience. Zoom in, and you’ll see days you were on fire and days you barely made it through. That’s the game. Keep showing up.
4. Teaching
This one’s different. It’s a privilege.
Getting to pass on frameworks that might help students shape the world? That’s not just rewarding—it’s sacred. I recently got my first “peer” review from someone who’s been teaching for over 20 years. He gave me some tactical advice (which I appreciated), but he also said:
“You’re a great professor.”
That stuck with me.
Little Rocks
Once the big ones are set, I make room for the smaller ones. Here are mine:
1. Jiu Jitsu
I’m a brown belt and have been training for nine years. Add in the Army and West Point, and I’ve been grappling for 20+. But I still get humbled regularly. It’s the beginner’s mindset on tap (literally). You’ll never “arrive” in jiu jitsu—you just keep learning.
2. Fitness
Jiu jitsu is my hobby. Lifting weights is what I do to keep the hobby fun. Strength and mobility are foundational—especially when you’re getting beat up by guys half your age and twice your speed.
3. Writing
This newsletter isn’t just a hobby—it’s how I think. People ask how I make time to write. That’s like asking how I make time to think. Writing forces me to clarify my thoughts, organize ideas, and develop frameworks. Plus, it keeps me honest and disciplined.
4. Friends
I’ve got text groups with high school friends, college friends, and “grown-up” friends.
Friendships don’t maintain themselves—you’ve got to invest. Otherwise, one day you look up and your social circle is just Slack threads and HOA complaints.
Sand
The sand is all the stuff that fills in the cracks.
Taking out the trash. Dropping off packages. Answering the “let’s circle back” emails. Paying bills. Scheduling dentist appointments. It’s the stuff that doesn’t seem important—until you ignore it long enough to become a raccoon landlord.
I could prioritize Call of Duty over coaching baseball. I could skip workouts or write fewer newsletters. But those are trades I’m not willing to make.
Everything you want in life is on the other side of sacrifice.
Just make sure you’re not sacrificing your big rocks to make room for sand.
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