I Wasted 15 Years Being Too Tired to Live. Here's How One Race Changed Everything, And Why I Started FunerG Wellness.

I was standing on a ski hill, watching my kids fly down the mountain, and I couldn't breathe.

Not because of the altitude. Not because of the cold.

Because I was 35 years old and so out of shape that taking my own children snowboarding left me gasping for air.

That moment—that humiliating, eye-opening moment—changed the trajectory of my life.

The Lost Years

Let me back up.

As a kid, I was everywhere. Soccer, hockey, basketball—if it involved movement, I was in. I lived outside. I lived in my body. I was alive.

But somewhere along the way, I absorbed a message that poisoned everything: Adults don't do that kind of thing.

Adults don't snowboard for fun. Adults don't play pickup sports. Adults don't chase adventure. That's kid stuff. Irresponsible. Selfish.

Real adults work. Provide. Sacrifice. Sit still.

So I did what I thought I was supposed to do. I grew up. I put away "childish things."

High school came. University. The party years. Suddenly there was less time for sports, less money for adventure, and a lot more beer and late nights. I told myself it was normal. Everyone was doing it.

After graduation, the party mode faded into work mode. Long hours. Occasional drinks with colleagues. A few beers to "unwind." Then my partner and I started our own business. Then came the kids.

Suddenly I was 35, exhausted every single morning, in a terrible mood, with zero energy. I'd drag myself through the workday, come home, and want to do absolutely nothing. Chores around the house felt like climbing a mountain. My diet? Fast food grabbed between meetings and travel. My body? A stranger.

I was living, but I wasn't alive.

The Wake-Up Call

That day on the ski hill wasn't the first time I'd felt this way. But it was the first time I couldn't ignore it.

I was standing there, watching my kids fly down the mountain, and I couldn't breathe. Not from the altitude. Not from the cold. But from being so out of shape that just getting to the top of the hill left me gasping.

But the real moment—the one I'll never forget—came when I sat down to strap into my snowboard.

I could barely buckle my own bindings.

I couldn't bend over comfortably to reach them. My gut was in the way. I was struggling, huffing and puffing, just trying to clip myself in.

Something that used to take 10 seconds was now a sweaty, frustrating ordeal.

That's when I knew: I wasn't just out of shape. I was disappearing.

I looked at my kids—racing down that slope with pure joy, and I felt something break inside me. Not my body. My denial.

I missed this. I missed being this person. The active kid who lived outside. The guy who played every sport. The version of me who didn't struggle to buckle his own equipment.

More than that, I realized: I was missing my kids' childhood because I was too tired—and too unhealthy—to show up for it.

Not just physically. Emotionally. Mentally. I was checked out.

That night, I made a decision.

I was going to run a 10K.

The Race That Changed Everything

I'm not going to lie—that first run was brutal. My lungs burned. My legs screamed. I questioned everything.

But I kept going.

And then I signed up for the race.

After I finished that 10K, something unexpected happened. My best friend's dad—who had just completed a marathon in his mid-sixties—looked at me and said, "You know, you could do a marathon."

Challenge accepted.

But I knew I couldn't train for a marathon the way I'd been living. So I made another decision: no alcohol during training.

That was 12 years ago.

I haven't had a real beer or wine since.

I'm not saying that to brag. I'm saying it because that decision unlocked something I didn't know was possible: discipline I didn't know I had. Energy I'd forgotten existed. A version of myself I thought was gone forever.

The Transformation (And the Reality)

Let me be clear: I'm not perfect.

My eating habits? Still a work in progress. There are ups and downs. Some weeks I eat clean, plant-based meals that fuel my body. Other weeks I slip. I'm human.

But here's what changed:

I went from exhausted and checked out to running marathons.

I discovered passions I didn't even know existed—kitesurfing, wingfoiling, snowboarding at a level I never reached in my "youth."

I became the dad who plays pick-up soccer at the community center, who goes hiking with the dogs, who tries new sports just because they look fun.

And I realized something profound: the adults who told me to "grow up" and stop playing? They were wrong.

Having fun isn't irresponsible. Chasing adventure isn't selfish. Playing sports isn't "kid stuff."

It's what keeps you alive.

I reclaimed 15 years I thought were gone. And I reclaimed the permission to play that I'd been taught to give up.

And now, as I look ahead to becoming a grandfather someday, I'm not worried. Because I'm not building toward retirement on a couch. I'm building toward being the granddad who wingfoils and snowboards and plays soccer and shows up—fully alive.

Why I Do This Work

Here's the truth that most wellness coaches won't tell you:

Those 15 years I lost? I'm never getting them back.

I can't go back and be the energized, present dad I wish I'd been when my kids were toddlers. I can't redo those years.

But I can help you make sure you don't lose yours.

Because if you're reading this and you're 35, 40, 45—and you're exhausted, overweight, checked out, telling yourself "I'm too old" or "I'll start next year"—I need you to hear me:

You're not too old. You're just living like you are.

I know because I was you. I wasted ages 20 to 35 on autopilot. I told myself getting old and tired was inevitable. That the "dad bod" was just what happens. That I'd get back in shape "someday."

Someday almost never came.

One 10K race saved my life. And it gave me 15 years (and counting) of adventure, energy, presence, and joy I almost missed.

What's Possible for You

I'm not going to promise you'll run marathons. Maybe you will, maybe you won't.

But I will promise you this:

If you're willing to make one decision—one race, one challenge, one commitment to show up differently—everything can change.

You can have energy again. You can be present with your kids. You can discover passions you didn't know existed. You can look in the mirror and recognize yourself again.

You can stop saying "I'm too old" and start saying "I'm just getting started."

That's why we started FunerG Wellness.

Not to sell you six-pack abs or anti-aging secrets or quick fixes.

But to help you reclaim what you thought was gone. To help you stop wasting years. To help you become the version of yourself you thought you'd lost forever.

Because you didn't lose it.

You just forgot it was still there.

Your Turn

If this story resonates with you—if you see yourself in the exhausted, checked-out version of me—I want you to know:

Change doesn't require perfection. It requires one decision.

One 10K. One challenge. One commitment to stop waiting.

What will yours be?

Ready to Stop Wasting Years?

If you're a man over 35 who's tired of being tired, who misses your athletic identity, and who wants to reclaim your energy and active lifestyle, let's connect.

Follow my journey: Instagram: @funerg

Explore my approach: FunerG Wellness

You're not too old. You're just living like you are.

Let's change that.

About the Author: I'm a functional nutritionist specializing in gut health, anti-inflammatory nutrition, and active aging for men. After wasting 15 years being too tired to live, I transformed at 35 and now help other men stop wasting theirs. Based in Nova Scotia, I spend my time wingfoiling, snowboarding, playing pickup soccer, and showing my kids (and future grandkids) that age is just a number when you refuse to act like it's a limitation.