I answered this question a year ago, and at the time it felt like I was staring up at Everest.
Two of those mountains were massive.
My daughter’s wedding in May. Funding it. Planning it. Making sure everything came together. I remember looking at my bank account and thinking, “Well… this should be interesting.” But she got married. It was beautiful. I survived. My checking account did not, but that’s a separate issue.
The other big one was recertifying as a teacher. Classes. Deadlines. Paperwork. Finding time in the margins of an already packed school year. That one felt heavy too. But it’s done. I’m still in the classroom. Still teaching. Still where I’m supposed to be.
So the two biggest challenges? Handled.
The others?
Let’s just say they’re still sitting in my garage.
Yes, the garage. Still packed. If anything, it has evolved. Some of the wedding décor now lives out there too, like a reception hall that never quite went home. Organizing it remains a noble, theoretical goal.
Then there’s the book.
I wrote it. I believe in it. It’s been sitting unedited for months. Every time I think about it, I feel that familiar mix of excitement and anxiety. It needs editing. It needs polishing. It needs courage. Twelve months ago, I wanted to get it done. Today, I’m even more anxious about finishing it — not because I’ve lost faith, but because I haven’t moved it forward.
And of course, instead of finishing that one, I’ve added two or three more ideas to the pile. Apparently, my brain thinks the solution to unfinished projects is… more projects.
Now, looking ahead at the next six months, the landscape has shifted.
Near the end of May, my daughter will give birth to her baby girl.
That’s not a challenge. That’s a gift. A blessing. A moment that will change the shape of our family again. I’ll have a grandson and a granddaughter. That reality still feels surreal. It’s something to prepare for, yes, but mostly it’s something to look forward to with a full heart.
The real challenge? Me.
Specifically, the “few extra pounds” I carry — and we’ll leave the definition of “few” intentionally vague. My doctor would love for me to lose some weight. My daughter has gently encouraged it. My wife would cheer it on. I agree with all of them.
The issue has never been agreement. It’s starting.
I’m good at thinking about starting. I’m good at planning to start. I’m good at buying things that help me start. What I’m not always good at is the steady, boring, daily discipline that actually produces results.
I’d love to be twenty pounds lighter by the time school starts in August. Not for vanity. For energy. For longevity. For being able to chase a toddler and hold a newborn without feeling winded. For walking into another school year feeling stronger instead of slower.
If the past year taught me anything, it’s this: the big mountains aren’t always the ones that defeat you. Sometimes they’re the ones that reveal what you’re capable of.
Weddings happen. Certifications get finished. Babies are born. Garages can be cleaned. Books can be edited. And weight can be lost — if I decide that this time I’m not just thinking about starting.
Six months from now, I’ll look back at this post again. Hopefully a little lighter. Hopefully a little braver. Hopefully a little further along than I am today.
Copyright © 2026 Doug DeBolt.
