Alright here’s the deal. Yesterday I started my journey to the new and improved me. I’m on a quest to get back into the shape I was in before I became a dad.

For the past four years I’ve been very focused on my kids and trying to survive each day without any thought to my personal health or well-being. Well, no more!

After a number of not so valiant attempts to workout and eat right I’m finally fired up and fed up enough to make a full throttle attempt at reclaiming my old body.

My Past Failures

Like just about everyone else on the planet, earlier this year I made a resolution to get in better shape. And like all vague goals and resolutions, I failed before I really got started. I had joined a big flashy gym, gave myself a big pep talk and tried to fit in some workouts into my crazy schedule. The only time I thought I could fit something in was Saturday and Sunday morning at 8am, which worked for a few weekends but I still had some trouble getting there consistently.

I’m going to let you in an a little secret . . . I never wanted to be a father.

Not only that but I never really wanted to get married either.

Knowing this, it’s hard to believe that I spent this past Saturday morning at the princess birthday party of my twin girls. They turned four and are infatuated with anything princess, so my wife planned an unbelievable party that any princess groupie would die for. There were lots of gowns to dress up in, enough pink to make even Barbie want to puke and a special appearance by Cinderella herself.

It was every girls dream and I was one of only a handful of Dads that was obligated to be there.

I’ve always felt the traditional education system is flawed. Well, at least flawed for guys like me.

I did what society told me to do: I went to college, graduated and joined corporate America with everybody else. I did this not really because I wanted to but because this is what was expected of me and what society told me was what I needed to do if was to be successful.

That’s all fine and dandy if this path that our culture is telling us to go down is the right path, but what if it’s actually leading to cliff overlooking unhappiness and discontent?

The problem with this traditional collegiate plan of success is that it’s assuming that the goal of everyone is kind of the same, which is far from the truth. Sure, we are offered other routes to take but the overwhelming push toward the pre-programmed path of learning is hard to break free of.

All moms have a super-human special power that many people outside of parenting have no idea about. This power is inside each and every woman, however it lies dormant until awakened during the process of shooting an watermelon shaped little person out of their bodies.

Once triggered by childbirth, this power grows in intensity for a few years, then begins to dissipate and eventually disappears by the time their children reach second grade. Although moms only have the power for a brief time, they use it well and often during that time.

It allows them in communicate in a secret code with their own kind, while keeping young children and dim-witted dads in the dark.

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Two weeks ago life finally caught up to me. My crazy, nonstop, always moving, never resting lifestyle slammed me right into a wall of exhaustion, frustration and despair.

I should have seen it coming – all those around me knew this was inevitable – but in the rush to do all of my daily activities I was taking by complete surprise.

The day it all came crashing down was Thursday. There was nothing special or different about that day, if fact it was like so many other days: wake up and get the kids ready for school, drop them off, walk the dog, then rush like crazy to do as much as humanly possible in my 4 hours of kid-free time, pick up the kids from school, hang with them for the afternoon, make them dinner, walk the dog again (by this point, Supermom is home and helping), put them to bed, go to a meeting (for my non profit), come back home and take a quick shower, work until midnight on my computer, and finally collapse in bed for my typical 6 or 7 hours of interrupted sleep.