I don’t know when it started. But over the last couple of weeks, I’ve noticed something different. I’m catching moments. Not the big moments, not the milestones — not the medals, the summits, the applause. I’m talking about the small ones. The simple ones. The ones you miss if you’re not paying attention. I’m living a little deeper. Feeling things as they happen, not just after they’re over. I’m not trying to make sense of them while I’m in them. I’m just in them. Fully. That’s the shift.

It’s like I’m hopping from one moment to the next. And not in a blur, either. I’m awake in them. I’m aware. I’m grateful. And when it’s over, I don’t try to hang onto it. I move to the next one. I go. Another moment. Another breath. Another run. Another thought. Another chance to live better.

And it’s not like I planned any of this. I didn’t set out on this trip to find presence. I didn’t write it in a journal or make it a goal. I’m just out here. In Malaysia. Living it. I’ve felt this in the rain, in the sauna, walking the streets, staring up at towers I’ve never seen, soaking in the thick, wet air that never quite lets go. These aren’t dramatic moments. They’re just… moments. But they’re mine. And for the first time in my life, I feel like I’m living them instead of letting them slip by.

And here’s the deeper part of this: for most of my life, I only asked one question — how can I make my life better? Everything I did came from that. Every job, every run, every plan, every struggle. It was all about chasing something ahead of me. Something I didn’t have yet. It was a grind toward better. Toward proving myself. Toward making it. It wasn’t always a bad question. But it wasn’t enough.

Because now, it’s evolved. And I’m not talking about some overnight awakening. There have been dozens of versions of me between that guy and this one. But today, I know what the question really is: how can I more deeply appreciate God’s love and grace within me, right now? Not next week. Not when I cross the next finish line. Not when I get my next job or relationship or milestone. But right now. In this moment. In the middle of this breath.

And from that shift, I’ve found something I wish I could hand to every single person I care about: the real power is in the micro. In the decision. In the loop we let ourselves get stuck in. And in the way we break free. The internal voice, the one that starts soft, almost invisible, but gets louder every time you listen to it — that’s the voice that shapes your entire life. And most people? They listen to it way too much.

That voice is sneaky. It’s dressed up as logic. As reason. As earned rest. “I’ve done enough today. It’s okay to skip the workout. I need time to recover. I’m tired. I’ll start tomorrow.” You say it once, then again, then again. And it becomes your loop. I’ve lived that loop. But now I recognize it. I see it forming, and I cut it off before it takes root. I move. That’s the power. Not because I’m special. But because I’ve trained myself to act before I overthink. Before I make the easy choice and pretend it was the right one.

Yesterday was one of those moments. It had been a long day. I’d walked a lot, felt the weight of the heat and the noise and the decisions piling up. I could’ve easily said, “Rest day.” Nobody would’ve questioned it. I earned it, right? But something inside me called bullshit. Everyone has 20 minutes. Everyone. So I got up, grabbed my shoes, opened the door… and immediately got hit with a full-blown monsoon.

Right then, the loop tried again. “Not today. It’s raining. It’s too much. Just wait. Skip it.” But I’ve lived that story before. I know how it ends. You skip one thing, then another. You give yourself one pass, then another. You start negotiating your life away in micro-decisions that nobody else sees but you. And eventually, you wake up wondering why nothing feels right. It all adds up.

So I stepped into the rain. Not defiantly. Not dramatically. Just… stepped in. I told myself, this is the moment. Right now. This is the exact one that matters. And so I started running.

It wasn’t fast. It wasn’t hard. It wasn’t epic. But it was mine. I made it mine. The rain hit, the cars splashed, the people watched, and I moved through it all. No big adrenaline rush. Just me and my breath. And before I knew it, I was standing at the base of Merdeka 118 — the second tallest building in the world.

I looked up. It was massive. Towering. A monster of a structure. And all I could think about was the labor it took to build it. The crews, the planners, the operators, the sweat, the discomfort. And me — just a guy, out here in a foreign country, running in the rain because I said I would. Because I didn’t listen to that voice that said, “Skip it, not today.”

And in that moment, I didn’t feel like a badass. I didn’t feel tough. I didn’t feel anything big. I just felt real. Like I was part of the world in a way I hadn’t been before. Present. Honest. Fully Alive.

So here’s the piece I want you to hear — not to motivate you, not to preach, but to remind you that this loop lives in you too. You’ve said the same things to yourself. You’ve used the same excuses. We all have. “I’m just tired.” “I’ll get to it later.” “Now’s not the right time.” But if you don’t catch that loop and break it, it becomes your life. Not your day. Your life.

Every moment is a chance to show up. Every breath is a chance to redirect. Every single thing you do is either a deposit toward who you want to be, or a withdrawal back into who you used to be.

That’s what this trip is becoming for me. Not a vacation. Not an escape. Not a reset. But a proving ground. For every choice. Every action. Every moment. Because this very moment — the one you’re in right now — is the youngest you’ll ever be. It’s the first day of the rest of your life.

And that’s not a slogan. That’s a reality. You don’t get to live in tomorrow. And the past isn’t yours anymore. The only thing that’s real is this moment. Right now. And what you do with it.

Not because I’m special. Not because I’m different. But because I finally understand: this very moment is the only one that matters.