Keep the Ball Moving: Lessons From Lacrosse That Built a Life

By most traditional standards, I’ve done alright. Built businesses, made money, checked boxes that make other people nod. But the real blueprint for whatever success I’ve had didn’t come from a boardroom—it came from lacrosse.

And not from the fireworks people think define the game. Not the cannon-shot goals that echo across the field, or the bone-jarring checks that leave the crowd gasping. Those are just highlights, sugar highs that fade by Monday. What stuck with me—what shaped me—were the unglamorous hours no one saw.

Wall ball in the summer heat, where the rhythm of the ball smacking brick became its own kind of meditation. Stringing and re-stringing sticks in my room at midnight, fingers raw, because I knew the pocket still wasn’t right. Running sprints when I didn’t even know if I liked the sport anymore. Those weren’t about chasing glory. They were about refusing to stand still.

That’s what lacrosse drilled into me: never lose momentum.

It wasn’t complicated. On the days I felt inspired, when the goal was sharp and the caffeine was strong, I could crush twelve hours without breaking stride. But those days were easy. The real test came on the off days. The days I didn’t know which way was up. The days I wondered why I even picked up a stick in the first place.

On those days, I’d ask myself: what can I do that makes me better at lacrosse, but would still matter if I never played again? The answer was simple. Lift. Run. Stretch. Swim. Read. Learn. Something. Anything. Even if lacrosse vanished tomorrow, those things would leave me stronger, faster, healthier, sharper. If the sport wasn’t my future, the effort still was.

And that bled straight into entrepreneurship. Business isn’t all inspiration and twelve-hour marathons. It’s mostly fog—days where nothing feels clear, where progress hides, where doubt creeps in and whispers maybe you’re in the wrong game. That’s when the lacrosse mentality kicks in. You keep moving. Learn a skill that might help now—or maybe later. Read a page. Write a note. Take one step. Because the biggest mistake isn’t charging in the wrong direction. It’s standing still.

That’s the thread that ties the field to the office, the stick to the spreadsheet. Success isn’t about explosions. It’s about momentum. About keeping the ball in the air—even if today it’s just one more pass off the wall, one more string through a sidewall, one more small rep that nobody sees.

And here’s the thing: those little, almost invisible actions stack up. Progress doesn’t always roar. Sometimes it limps. But keep it moving long enough and it compounds into something that looks like success.

That’s what lacrosse left me with: a stubborn refusal to let the momentum die.