I first came to live in the US from England in 1977. Miraculously I shed almost 50 pounds without even trying! My two young daughters and I arrived a few days before Thanksgiving. Even with its vaguely anti-English overtones, we immediately embraced this unfamiliar holiday, especially the strange but plentiful food. Christmas seemed to follow with hardly a chance to catch our breath (or get hungry) and then New Year. To complete the holiday feasting, my new American wife and I got married in January.

When I weighed myself after all this gluttony, I was truly stunned to discover that my 200+ pounds had been decimated. I was suddenly a svelte 155 pounds, feeling incredibly blessed and scared to death I’d pack those 50 pounds back on in a flash. Looking back now, it was obviously a complete change of lifestyle that did the trick. I had left behind an advertising career fueled by expense account food and drink (lots of the latter) with never a thought for calories or fat and had arrived in Los Angeles with its body-centric culture the first wave of California cuisine now making the transition from restaurant to home kitchens.

Whatever it was, it was working for this grateful new immigrant. I loved having to replace my old ‘fat guy’ clothes with 32″ waist pants and 15″ collar shirts. But I felt guilty that I hadn’t done anything to ‘earn’ this weight loss gift. What could I do to hang on to it? The answer was close to home. Rich, my new 14-year old stepson was something of a track star at his school and he wanted to learn how to play soccer (remember this was 1977). Being English, a lifetime devotee of the beautiful game (although never a decent player) and an obsessive fan of Manchester United . . . I saw an opportunity.

Rich and I spent each late afternoon at a high school track. I taught him Soccer 101 and he got me fit to run. He was a natural. Inside two weeks, he was showing a skill level I’d never had. As for me, I had enthusiasm on my side and the running boom of the late 70s to reassure me I wasn’t the only one. And I’ve been running ever since.

It’s been over 30 years. Rich’s mom and I divorced after 17 years. My girls are both married and living in Bombay, India and Portland, Oregon respectively. I’m happily remarried. My hair is gray and . . . I’m still 155 pounds with a 32″ waist and a 15″ neck. All thanks to running.

You’ve heard all the arguments in favor of running: it’s cheap, portable, you don’t need special equipment or a gym membership, it’s the best cardio bang for the buck, where else can you experience the runner’s high and on and on. All true, but what keeps me running is how good it makes me feel about myself. No matter how many mornings I’ve had to force my weary body out of bed and into the trusty Asics, I have some wonderful everyday justifications.

At 67, I can wear the same size clothes I wore at 36. I have blood chemistry my (younger) doctor envies. My body fat is 12.5%. I have no need for medication (except for occasional allergies). When I run an early morning 10-miler on Mulholland, I feel a sense of age-defying achievement (and a little smug superiority) for at least the rest of the day. If I have a difficult conversation coming up, nothing focuses my thoughts like a run. Best ideas? While running. Best meditation? Best problem-solving? Best way to digest self-help books? On my iPod while running. Best hangover cure? Best mood improver? Best time on my own? Best way to get to know a new city?
After 30+ years, running is still the answer.

A wonderful weekend with family – particularly our niece (12) and nephew (10) – reinforced a discovery I made a couple of years ago that very much relates to the ‘important thing’ in my recent post: being in the lives of kids and grand kids.

In the summer of ‘07, Lisa’s sister, Tracy, had asked if we would come up to their home in Northern California for the weekend and take care of the children while they enjoyed a getaway weekend out of town. I agreed, though not very enthusiastically.

To my surprise, I had the best time and felt as though I really developed a relationship with the kids (I mean, by the Sunday, they were actually laughing at my ‘stupid English puns’ and punning back at me). It took me a few months to finally figure out what made this weekend fun and the interaction with niece and nephew so different and so much better. Pause for drum roll . . . my role was clearly defined. It was as simple as that.

I was their stand-in Dad. I had very specific things to do. I took them to tutoring, I drove them to a swim meet. I played soccer with Aaron (at last, something I know about!). They taught me how they could decisively beat me at Wii tennis and make lazing on a float in the pool a less than relaxing pursuit. When it got to be too much, I told them to stop and never felt as though I was crossing some parents-only disciplining line. This weekend, I was a parent.

There was an easy give and take, a comfortable intimacy. It was the most time I’d spent with the kids sans parents and that meant our roles had to be clearly defined.

I haven’t tried it yet, but this approach should also work when the parents are present. It seems as though there needs to be a conversation about roles and expectations. I need to ask about opportunities to spend time alone with the children as well. And what parent won’t welcome that?

An occasional blog by Andy Carmichael

During the last few months, as I near a sixty something birthday I’d rather avoid, I’ve been thinking about the things that are important to me. Not urgent, not expected of me but just important. Important if I’m to live the rest of my life fulfilled and fairly free of regrets. That kind of important. A bit late, you say? I agree, but I never really got introspection and right now I’m feeling pretty good about getting this far, even if I am a tad tardy. As I started to list what’s important to me, I was struck by how my single most important thing is the single most difficult!

Number one on my list is to be a much better parent by being more consistently present in the lives of my grown kids (and my older daughter’s two kids). There’s a problem right there. My daughter and grandchildren live in Bombay, India. My wife (not their mother), Lisa and I live in Los Angeles. Bombay is not a weekend trip. You really have to plan on two weeks minimum. And is a two week stay really being “consistently present” in their lives? The more I thought about what I’d have to do – join them for part of their long summer vacation in France, meet up with them in London, host them at Disneyland – the more I realized that I simply don’t have the time to do all this and hold down my full-time job.

So here’s my dilemma. I need the income from my job, but I need the time off my job doesn’t allow. And I haven’t even got to all my other important things on my list!

This whole process started a year or so ago when I came across a book called ‘The 4 Hour Work Week’ (link). It’s written by a 32-year old called Tim Ferris who recounts how he balked at the life path being followed by his peers – you know, work-all-hours-till-65-then-retire-and-finally-do-the-things-you’ve- always-wanted-to-do. He literally re-orders his life. He reduces the hours he works, creates a hands-off business and uses technology to allow him to work those 4 hours anywhere he happens to be. This way he creates the income and – imagine this – completely frees himself from a conventional work arrangement to enjoy one to twelve month ‘mini-retirements’ to travel, to immerse himself in a foreign language, to learn the tango in Argentina, to kick-box in Thailand . . . so he gets to do what he wants to do now, without having to work all those years for a well-earned retirement – but at what cost?

Something about it really resonated with me. I’ve read it twice and listened to it on my iPod three times. After a few times, I realized that what Tim Ferris did as he turned 30 most of us don’t get to do until our 50s or 60s (and maybe never) and this book was in my hands for a reason. In fact, the book helps you, step by step, to identify what’s important to you. Not what’s urgent, not what others think you should do – but what’s IMPORTANT TO YOU. It also takes you through a process to figure out a business model that can allow you this level of freedom. And the great thing is this is all applicable whether you’re 65 or 25.

So, that’s where I am right now. I plan to blog occasionally about how I tackle this process – and I want to hear from you. If you’ve already been through this, tell us about it. If you’re currently experiencing it, let’s compare notes. If it’s something you’ve been meaning to do, stop beating yourself up and jump on board! And let us know what’s on your list of important things.