(And Why That Feeling Matters More Than Timing)
This weekend, I’m doing something new.I’m playing in my first pickleball tournament.
Before you picture anything too intense, it’s very much for fun.
No big stakes, no pressure to perform, just the decision to try something unfamiliar.
That feeling of being new again has been following me around lately.
I was recently back in Costa Rica, a place that holds more history for me than most people realize. I lived there when my kids were small, and returning brought a wave of nostalgia I didn’t fully expect. There were tears. The good kind. The kind that remind you how many versions of yourself you’ve already lived.
Travel has a way of slowing things down. Fewer decisions. Simpler days. More clarity. You come home changed, even if nothing has technically shifted on paper.
With Valentine’s Day in the mix, I found myself thinking about commitment in a broader sense. Not just to people, but to seasons of life. To places. To routines you once chose and then quietly grew into.
Most of my best thinking still happens on dog walks. Same route, different thoughts. And this week, one theme kept surfacing.
Transitions.
Trying something new without needing it to define you. Letting yourself feel uncertain without rushing to resolve it. Allowing change to be thoughtful instead of dramatic.
I see this often in real estate. Despite what we’re told, most moves don’t begin with urgency or perfect timing. They begin with a feeling. A sense that something has shifted. More space might help. Less upkeep might feel better. A different pace might suit this chapter more than the last.
You don’t need to act the moment you notice that feeling. But noticing it matters.
Win or lose this weekend, I’ll still walk the dog, still eat the chocolate, and still have the conversations I value most with people who are thinking ahead, even if they’re not acting yet.
Those conversations are where clarity starts.
If any of this feels familiar, you’re not behind. You’re just paying attention.