I’ve always been a rebel.
Tell me I can’t do something, and I’ll prove you wrong — or I’ll bust my butt trying.
That mentality fueled my entire life—earning my master’s degree, finishing Ironmans and marathons, writing books, and eventually launching my own business.
It worked… until it didn’t.
Everything changed in late 2016.
On New Year’s Eve, my Mom was diagnosed with Stage 4 esophageal (throat) cancer. No cure. No real treatment options.
In the weeks that followed, she lived mostly on a feeding tube. Physically, she dropped weight and deteriorated quickly. Yet, her spirit, attitude and presence — stayed unshakably strong.
She passed away on March 6th, 2017.
Fast forward thirteen months. April 3rd, 2018 — the day before my 38th birthday.
I was lacing up my shoes for a lunchtime run when my phone rang. Unknown number but I recognized the area code:
320. Albany, Minnesota.
I knew.
That gut-level, sixth-sense feeling — before you even answer — that something’s terribly wrong.
It was Tom Kasner, superintendent at Albany Golf Club. After Mom passed, we moved Dad into an apartment across the street from the course maintenance shed.
His voice cracked:
“Scotty, I don’t know how to tell you this… but the ambulance is at your dad’s apartment. We stopped over this morning and found him unresponsive. They’re doing everything they can, but it doesn’t look good.”
I unlaced my shoes.
The days and weeks after were a blur — grief, shock, logistics. And this strange, hollow new identity: orphaned at 38.
I didn’t know what to do. I knew what I should do: work. My business was only two years old, and my income wasn’t exactly steady. Or plentiful.
I didn’t work. I slept a lot. I binged mind-numbing television.
I also knew that I should work out—it got me through tough times before and always made me feel better.
Didn’t do that, either. For years, I’d run an average of 3–5 miles a day. Now I was barely doing that in a week.
Seriously, Scott, where’s your drive?
One day, I called my brother to vent. He was the only close family I had left.
I told him how ashamed I was. Disappointed. Angry. Frustrated.
He listened quietly, then said words that changed my life:
Scott, be kind to yourself.
It hit me like a punch.
Not only was being kind to myself something I’d never practiced; it was something I’d never even considered.
Photo credit to @ Dear World. Keep doing impactful work.
I’d spent most of my life being rather unkind to myself. I thought self-criticism was the price of admission to achieve big things. I thought the inner voice of the “successful” was harsh, hypercritical, relentless.
I’ve learned otherwise.
It took me 38+ years to understand something most people never fully grasp:
Being kind to yourself does not mean being complacent or soft.
And being driven does not require you to be judgmental or rigid.
The truth? You can be ambitious, compassionate—yet still honest with yourself.
Those four words from my brother — “Be kind to yourself” — changed my life. It bridged the gap between high achievement and deep fulfillment, where real Outperformance lives.
Maybe those words can change your life, too?
Have a great day and keep Outperforming,
