For years, I had reasons not to start something.
Good reasons.
Career. Family. Stability. Responsibility.
I’ve been fortunate. I’ve spent my career helping build products, often early, often from zero to one. I’ve worked with great people, built things that mattered, and spent much of my career in health, wellness, and behavioral health trying to improve people’s lives.
I already had the life I wanted.
A family I love.
Meaningful work.
A career I’m proud of.
This is not a story about leaving any of that behind.
It’s a story about what happened when the excuses slowly disappeared.
Someday
For years, starting something of my own lived in the “maybe someday” category.
Someday when life slowed down.
Someday when I had more time.
Someday when I felt more technical.
Someday when the risk felt smaller.
Someday when I had the right idea.
That last one might have been the biggest blocker of all.
I’ve always had ideas.
Too many ideas, honestly. (Just today I was floating a shopping list idea to my wife – she stopped me)
But I carried this pressure that if I was going to build something, it had to be the thing.
The novel idea.
The breakthrough.
The unicorn.
The thing nobody else saw.
So I waited.
And eventually I realized I could spend the rest of my life waiting for that idea.
Meanwhile there were real problems sitting right in front of me.
Problems I understood.
Problems I cared about.
Problems I had opinions on.
The shift was surprisingly simple:
Stop asking:
What company should I start?
Start asking:
What do I wish existed?
What do I need in my own life?
What problem do I have a real point of view on?
That question changed everything.
I Was Running Out Of Excuses
At the same time, AI quietly changed the equation.
The barriers that used to require teams, funding, and years of effort started collapsing.
You can prototype products in days.
You can write code with agents.
You can create content that once required entire departments.
One person suddenly looked a lot bigger than one person.
And eventually I had an uncomfortable realization:
If people with experience, domain knowledge, stable careers, and access to these tools still won’t go tackle problems they care about…
What exactly are we waiting for?
I realized something else too.
The excuses I had been carrying were disappearing.
“I’m not technical enough.”
I learned.
“I can’t build alone.”
The tools changed.
“I need funding.”
Maybe eventually. Not today.
“I need permission.”
No, I don’t.
Maybe I Was Preparing The Whole Time
I’ve helped build a lot of things.
Often early.
Sometimes from the beginning.
Sometimes helping shape products, teams, and direction.
But usually inside something that already existed.
And I’m proud of that.
I learned from it.
I grew because of it.
I got to help bring meaningful things into the world.
But somewhere along the way a question started creeping in:
What would happen if I put that same energy behind my own point of view?
Looking back, maybe none of this was random.
The startup years.
Building products from scratch.
Working in health and wellness.
Learning technical skills later in my career.
The writing.
The AI rabbit hole.
Late nights building after the kids went to bed.
Rebuilding systems.
Rethinking how teams operate.
Maybe I wasn’t wandering.
Maybe I was collecting tools.
Weight Loss Started Feeling Heavy
I kept coming back to weight loss.
Not because I thought I had some revolutionary idea.
The category is crowded.
Trackers.
Programs.
Communities.
Coaches.
AI apps.
Every approach imaginable.
The old version of me would have stopped there.
“What could I possibly add?”
But I started asking a different question:
What is my stance on this?
What do I believe?
I believe health shouldn’t consume your identity.
I believe consistency matters more than perfection.
I believe shame is a terrible coach.
I believe people quit when the process itself becomes exhausting.
I believe weight loss shouldn’t feel like another job.
I remember reading reviews from people saying they quit because the process itself became too heavy.
That stuck with me.
Because improving your health shouldn’t feel like carrying a heavier backpack every day.
And I realized something important:
I don’t need to recreate someone else’s philosophy.
This gets to be mine.
My experiences.
My perspective.
My approach.
It won’t be for everyone.
And that’s okay.
I think it will help some people.
That’s enough reason to build it.
That idea eventually became Mycro.
Not because I wanted to start a company.
Because I couldn’t stop thinking about the problem.
My Kids Will Grow Up In A Different World
My kids are growing up in a world where one person can build things that used to require companies.
That still feels unbelievable to me.
When I started my career, building software felt expensive, specialized, and out of reach for most people.
Now someone with experience, curiosity, and enough stubbornness can create things from a laptop after the kids go to bed.
I’m not sure I could tell them to chase meaningful work, take risks, build things, and follow their curiosity…
…if I never tried myself.
So I Started
I don’t know where Mycro goes.
Maybe it stays a small product helping a few people.
Maybe it becomes much bigger.
Maybe it fails completely.
Honestly, that part matters less than it used to.
Because this was never really about launching an app.
It was about realizing I had run out of excuses.
The tools changed.
The leverage changed.
The opportunity changed.
And for people like me – experienced, stable, passionate about a problem, and lucky enough to have access to these tools – I think there are fewer reasons than ever not to try.
So I started.
We’ll see where it goes.
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