People often ask me why I’m holding a horse stance for ten minutes in a public space, or why, at my age, I’m still focusing on the kind of training most people left behind in their twenties. It looks like a quirk, maybe even a stunt. But for me, it’s not about intensity or ego—it’s about presence.
It’s about building a body and a mind that keep getting better, year after year.The Philosophy of Consistency
My journey with fitness didn’t start with a desire to win. It started forty-eight years ago when my piano teacher sat me down and suggested I take care of my body as seriously as I took care of my music. That conversation changed everything.
I learned early on that consistency beats intensity. I don’t train to exhaustion. I don’t add endless time to my workouts; I improve the quality of the movement. Whether it’s 60–80 pull-ups a week, my daily core work, or the discipline of a 10-minute horse stance, my routine is the foundation that allows me to do everything else. It’s why I can approach life with the same clarity I bring to a complex Chopin étude.Passing on the Gift
My passion for pianos is rooted in the same soil as my fitness. I still remember the Baldwin Hamilton my parents bought for me when I was thirteen. It was a massive sacrifice for them—roughly 10% of their annual income—but they did it because they believed in music, and they believed in me.
That piano didn’t just give me an instrument; it gave me lessons, recitals, and a life path. When I think about my plan to source and sell pianos in Portugal, I realize that for me, this isn’t just a business move. It’s an act of passing on a gift. I want to help someone else find the instrument that changes their life, just as mine was changed decades ago.The Stories That Connect Us
People often ask me why I’m so excited about moving to Portugal. They wonder why a pianist would care so much about public displays of discipline. The truth is simple: I’m in it for the conversation.
We live in a world where we’ve forgotten how to talk to strangers. My routines—the horse stance, the squats—are my visual icebreakers. They invite curiosity. They allow me to connect with people I never would have met otherwise. The world is full of stories, from the neighbor who tried to find real gold in California to the extraordinary intelligence of an octopus. I’ve realized that the sights you see while traveling are wonderful, but the conversations are the real reason for the journey.Looking Forward
I am not chasing the fountain of youth; I am chasing a life of depth. I am chasing the ability to be present, whether I’m at the piano, in the middle of a workout, or sharing a story with a new friend.
As I look toward this next chapter, I’m reminded of a promise I made to myself to keep growing—intellectually, spiritually, and physically—for the rest of my life. If you’re ever in Portugal and see me standing there in a horse stance, don’t hesitate to say hello. I’d love to tell you a story.