The Long Game: What Buffett Taught Me (Indirectly)

There’s this idea we’ve been sold – that greatness has an expiration date. That if you’re not a superstar by 25, if you’re not peaking in your 30s, you’ve somehow missed your shot. But that narrative? It’s garbage.

Warren Buffett took over Berkshire Hathaway at 35. Thirty Five. At an age when most athletes are hanging it up, Buffett was just getting started. He didn’t build his empire in his youth. He didn’t rush. He just showed up, every day, for decades. Intentional. Relentless. Disciplined. And that’s the heartbeat of the everyday athlete.

Most of us aren’t trying to win gold medals. We’re trying to win at life – show up for our families, lead well at work, push through the pain of divorce, lawsuits, financial setbacks, health scares. We’re not flashy. We’re not sponsored. But we grind.

I’ve lived both sides of this. A combat veteran. A business owner. A husband. A father. A guy who gained weight when life got heavy and started the long walk back to reclaim it. I’m currently 21 pounds from where I want to be. But I’m ten pounds down. And I’m proud of that, because I earned it. One workout, one meal, one choice at a time. It’s not sexy. It’s not instant. But it’s real.

Buffett’s story reminds me that greatness isn’t fast. It’s forged. It’s what happens when you show up consistently and do the small, boring things that no one applauds, until, one day, everyone does.

The Everyday Athlete isn’t defined by trophies. We’re defined by our tenacity. The dad who laces up his shoes after bedtime stories to get a run in. The mom who squeezes in a workout between shifts. The guy who goes back to school at 45. The woman who starts her first business at 50. These are our heroes.

Success isn’t reserved for the young or the lucky. It’s reserved for the faithful. And sometimes, the most elite version of you isn’t found until your knees creak and your hair’s going gray. Buffett’s fortune came not from one lucky break, but from a lifetime of compounding effort. That’s fitness. That’s leadership. That’s life.

So here’s to the long game. To the quiet work. To the version of you that’s still in the making.

Because the world doesn’t need more prodigies.

It needs more everyday athletes.