Two Steps Beyond Your Comfort Zone

Stardate 04.01.2026

There’s a reason it’s called a comfort zone.

It’s safe. Predictable. Familiar.

And living there comes with consequences that quietly compound over time. Stay there long enough, and you may one day look up to find that some of your dreams have slipped quietly out of reach. What once felt like possibility slowly turns into regret.

If you’re longing for a greater sense of fulfillment, you might consider trying a small experiment.

Take a breath.

You may even feel your mind trying to distract you from reading the next few lines. That’s normal. The brain is very good at protecting familiar patterns.

So here’s the promise you make to it:

I’m not going more than two steps beyond my comfort zone today.

That’s all.

My life has been a long series of small experiments. Many of them. Some worked. Some didn’t. But most of them required only one or two steps beyond what felt comfortable at the time.

Over the years, I’ve trained my brain to trust this process. I don’t ask it to leap. I don’t demand drastic change. I simply nudge it forward — gently, consistently.

This keeps the internal fire alarms from going off.

The goal is not disruption. The goal is discovery.

Before taking those two steps, pause and look at what you are already doing inside your comfort zone. Ask yourself:

Is there a better way to do this?
What activities are quiet time wasters?
What small new activity could I try today that might improve the quality of my life?

The questions don’t need to be complicated. The answers don’t need to be dramatic.

They just need to move you slightly forward.

What I’ve learned is this: the longer you live just two steps beyond your comfort zone, the more natural growth begins to feel. Change stops feeling threatening and starts feeling possible.

Here’s the simple prompt I use when starting a new experiment:

For the next 30 days, I will take two steps outside my normal pattern of behavior each day.

Be specific. Vague intentions don’t produce meaningful change.

I prefer doing this in the morning, when my mind is rested and less resistant. And I always write the experiment down. Documenting the process allows you to see the quiet progress that’s easy to miss day to day.

Keep this up for a year, and you may look back and barely recognize yourself.

Not because you forced change.

But because you gently invited it.

“Do not despise these small beginnings, for the Lord rejoices to see the work begin.” — Zechariah 4:10

Small beginnings. Two steps. One experiment at a time.

That’s often all it takes.

Join me here:
https://substack.com/@michaelmulliganlivelong

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Captain’s Addendum

Spock: “Captain, incremental adjustments to behavior yield statistically significant long-term outcomes.”

Bones: “In plain English, Spock — small steps still get you somewhere.”

I’ve learned that growth doesn’t require dramatic leaps. Most of the time, it just requires the courage to step slightly beyond what feels familiar, and the patience to repeat that step tomorrow.

I’m grateful for the reminder that progress can be gentle.

The Meeting After the Meeting

Stardate 03.31.2026

Last night’s pickleball committee meeting at the Rec Center was productive. Plans are steady for the fundraiser on 4/17, and for the first time in a long while, it feels like we can see the finish line coming into view for September. After three years of effort, setbacks, adjustments, and perseverance, there’s a quiet sense that the pieces are finally fitting together.

But the most meaningful part of the evening wasn’t on the agenda.

It happened after the meeting ended.

My accountability partner, Joni, who faithfully drives a long distance to be part of this group, stayed to talk. Jodi, one of our co-leaders who is pouring her whole heart into this project for the sake of our community and future generations, joined us. The three of us stood there for nearly an hour, sharing pieces of our stories that don’t usually make it into formal meetings.

There was no whiteboard. No notes. No timeline.

Just honesty. Gratitude. And a deep sense that this work has changed us as much as it will bless others.

When we finally walked out to the parking lot, I grabbed a copy of the coloring book from my vehicle and handed it to Jodi. She smiled and asked if I would autograph it.

It was a small moment.

But it didn’t feel small.

Something about that exchange felt like a quiet marker in the journey. A recognition that we are no longer just volunteers working on a project. We are people who have walked through something together. The kind of togetherness that only comes from shared struggle, shared hope, and shared belief in what could be.

I drove home with a calm I haven’t felt in a long time.

Not excitement. Not adrenaline.

Peace.

The kind of peace that comes when your faith, your effort, your relationships, and your purpose all begin pointing in the same direction.

I slept deeply last night.

That may not sound spiritual, but it is.

Sometimes the clearest sign that your life is coming into alignment is not what you feel while awake — it’s the rest you experience when you lay your head down.

Easter is this Sunday. A season of renewal. Of hope. Of life emerging from places that once looked finished.

And here we are, three years into a project that often felt uphill, finally able to see the ridge line ahead.

What I’m learning is this:

The most important work often happens after the meeting is over.

In parking lots. In unplanned conversations. In the quiet moments when people let their guard down and speak from the heart instead of the agenda.

Those are the moments where connection deepens. Where trust grows. Where God does His finest work — not in the spotlight, but in the spaces in between.

“Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.” — Galatians 6:9

Last night felt like a glimpse of that harvest.

Not because the work is done.

But because the people doing the work are now bound together in a way that only perseverance can create.

Join me here:
https://substack.com/@michaelmulliganlivelong

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Captain’s Addendum

Spock: “Captain, it appears the most significant progress occurred after official proceedings concluded.”

Bones: “Funny how the real healing never happens in the exam room, isn’t it?”

Sometimes the most meaningful progress in our lives doesn’t show up on schedules or agendas. It happens when we slow down long enough to truly see each other. Last night reminded me that while projects may bring us together, it is shared humanity that keeps us walking forward side by side.

I’m grateful for that reminder today.

Mark Your Calendars for Pickleball Fundraiser in Williamsburg on 4/17

Stardate 03.30.2026

Tonight, our pickleball committee gathers to prepare for something bigger than a meeting.

We’re coming together to plan a fundraiser that will take place on Friday night, 4/17, at the Sundown Bar & Grill here in Williamsburg.

At first glance, it might look like a simple local event. A few people meeting. Some auction items. A night of laughter and friendly bids.

But underneath it all is a shared dream.

We’re working toward a goal of building four outdoor pickleball courts at the Williamsburg Recreation Center. Courts that will serve families, neighbors, retirees, kids, and anyone who simply wants a place to move, gather, and enjoy community together.

What moves me most is watching how this is coming together.

A few of the ladies on the committee are doing the heavy lifting. Quietly organizing. Coordinating. Calling. Planning. Their energy reminds me that the heart of any community project is rarely loud. It’s steady. Faithful. Persistent.

It’s the small, consistent effort that makes the big things possible.

“Let us not grow weary of doing good, for in due season we will reap, if we do not give up.” — Galatians 6:9

That verse feels especially fitting right now.

Because this isn’t just about courts. It’s about what happens on those courts. The conversations. The laughter. The friendly competition. The sense of belonging.

It’s about creating a space where people can show up, be active, and be together.

If you’re local, I hope you’ll consider joining us on 4/17. Come for the fun. Stay for the purpose. Bid on some wonderful auction items. Encourage the people who have been working behind the scenes to make this possible.

Join me here:
https://substack.com/@michaelmulliganlivelong

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🖖 Captain’s Addendum

Spock: “Captain, the objective appears to be recreational infrastructure.”
Bones: “Spock, it’s never just about the court. It’s about the people who gather on it.”

Sometimes the smallest community efforts create the greatest places for connection.

Mission Log: Grateful for neighbors who step up, for shared dreams, and for the reminder that good things grow when people work together.

Thank you for being part of this journey. May your day be filled with small acts that build something lasting.

 

Palm Sunday Reflections

Stardate 03.29.2026

March Madness is winding down. Our men’s basketball team fought valiantly yesterday and came up short in the Elite 8. Congratulations to our neighbors to the east, the Illinois Fighting Illini men's basketball, who now advance to the Final Four.

What matters most to me isn’t the outcome. It’s the family time we shared along the way.

It’s not often our teams do this well, and this season gave us a reason to gather, cheer, laugh, and ride the emotional ups and downs together. We watched a first-year coach do something that few leaders manage to do so quickly: cultivate winning habits at an elite level.

That idea stays with me.

Because that’s the core of who I am. I love bringing out the best in others. I love watching habits form that quietly shape outcomes long before the scoreboard reflects them. I’m already looking forward to next season.

Speaking of new seasons, yesterday I did something a little outside my comfort zone. I spent five hours building cabinets in our basement. All that remains are the doors, which I’ll install later this week.

As I worked, I was reminded of visiting my cousins as a child. One room in their home had wall-to-wall shelving with cabinet doors — a room that looked remarkably similar to something my wife has always dreamed of having. It’s funny how memories from fifty years ago can guide your hands today.

I gave myself a small pat on the back when I finished. Not out of pride, but gratitude. This small success is preparing me for a much larger project I’ve been dreaming about for years. Like most dreams, it required me to overcome some real obstacles before I could even begin.

Stay tuned.

Today is Palm Sunday.

This day is deeply personal for me because of the stories I’ve been sharing about how I came to know Jesus. I understand that some people may struggle to make sense of what I describe. Truthfully, I still do at times. God’s ways are not our ways, and much of what Jesus did while walking this earth runs counter to what we might expect from the Creator of the universe.

What stands out to me as we enter Holy Week is something that happened just before Palm Sunday.

Jesus and His followers were on a boat. He fell asleep. A storm moved in, and the disciples were certain they were going to die. They woke Him, and He calmed the storm. When they reached shore at the region of the Sea of Galilee, a man possessed by demons came running toward Him from the caves.

Jesus healed the man. Clothed him. Restored him.

And then He did something unexpected.

He told the man he could not come along.

Instead, He gave him a mission: go home and tell others what the Lord had done for him.

This man — once isolated, feared, and broken — became the first known storyteller for Jesus in that region. When Jesus later returned, people were waiting because they had heard the man’s story.

“Return home and tell how much God has done for you.” — Luke 8:39

I think about that often.

The man didn’t attend a class. He didn’t receive formal training. He simply told his story.

As I prepare my heart this week for the Resurrection, I’m reminded that this is what I’ve been doing too. Sharing stories. Not because I have everything figured out, but because something changed in me, and I can’t help but talk about it.

Some people may observe the changes in my life and not fully understand them. That’s okay. I don’t fully understand them myself. I just know I’m all in.

Happy Palm Sunday.

Join me here:
https://substack.com/@michaelmulliganlivelong

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🖖 Captain’s Addendum

Spock: “Captain, the man’s qualifications were… unconventional.”
Bones: “Sometimes the best witnesses are the ones who’ve got the most to be grateful for.”

I’m learning that we don’t need perfect understanding to share what God has done. We simply need a willing heart and an honest story.

Mission Log: Grateful for family, for small projects that prepare us for bigger ones, and for the quiet calling to share what we’ve seen and experienced.

May your day be filled with peace, reflection, and quiet gratitude.

Preparations Underway for Elite 8 March Madness Family Moment

Stardate 03.28.2026

A couple of nights ago, we gathered at our youngest son’s home for a Sweet 16 family moment we won’t soon forget. The basketball rivalry between the Iowa Hawkeyes men's basketball and the Nebraska Cornhuskers men's basketball goes back generations in our state. It’s the kind of history that shows up in good-natured teasing, raised voices at the television, and shared laughter no matter the outcome.

The game didn’t start the way we hoped. In fact, we never even led until the final two minutes. Several friends later told me they turned it off when Nebraska jumped out to a ten-point lead early. They assumed they knew how the story would end.

They missed something special.

They missed the slow, steady comeback.
They missed the quiet belief building possession by possession.
They missed the moment when the impossible started to feel possible.

Tonight, our attention turns east toward the Illinois Fighting Illini men's basketball. They’re the #3 seed in our family bracket and just knocked off the #2 seed. Earlier in the tournament, our team eliminated the #1 seed at the buzzer with a three-pointer that sent us all out of our seats.

Now, here we are.

Cinderella. The #9 seed. Forty minutes away from the Final Four.

A new coach with a proven track record stands at the helm, and our family can hardly wait for tip-off.

But as I think about these games, I realize the lesson reaching beyond the court has very little to do with basketball.

It has to do with people.

I’ve been paying closer attention to my teammates at my day job and the groups I network with. I’m noticing a pattern that is hard to ignore:

Past performance is the best predictor of future performance.

Not talent.
Not intentions.
Not talk.

Patterns.

The small things people do repeatedly tell you exactly what they will do when the pressure is on.

That’s why the small things matter so much.

That’s why I’m leaning into this idea of becoming 1% better each day. Because when the big moments arrive — the final two minutes of the game, the unexpected challenge at work, the opportunity you didn’t see coming — you don’t rise to the occasion.

You fall back on your habits.

I once heard a story about why David picked up five stones before facing Goliath. Legend says Goliath had four brothers. David didn’t prepare for just one battle. He prepared for whatever might come next. He practiced his skills daily so that when the giant appeared, confidence wasn’t something he had to manufacture in the moment.

It was already there.

“Do not despise these small beginnings, for the Lord rejoices to see the work begin.” — Zechariah 4:10

Those friends who turned the game off early believed the outcome was already decided. They judged the future based on the scoreboard in the first few minutes.

But the players on the court kept playing. Possession by possession. Stop by stop. Shot by shot.

Small faithfulness.

Tonight, I’m hoping for another family moment we can cherish. But even more than that, I’m grateful for the reminder that life works the same way as these games.

Stay in it.
Do the small things well.
Trust the habits you’ve been building.

And don’t turn the game off too early.

Join me here:
https://substack.com/@michaelmulliganlivelong

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🖖 Captain’s Addendum

Spock: “Captain, the outcome was statistically improbable given the early deficit.”
Bones: “That’s because you can’t measure heart with numbers, Spock.”

I’m learning that heart is built long before the scoreboard makes sense. One small choice at a time, one percent better each day.

Mission Log: Gratitude for family, for faith, and for the reminder that steady faithfulness often writes the best endings.

Thank you for walking this journey with me. May your day be filled with quiet confidence and small, faithful steps forward.

Top 3 Family Moment Yesterday

Stardate 03.27.2026

Before I begin today’s reflection, I want to wish my sister a very happy birthday down in Arizona. March has always felt like our family’s version of March Madness. So many birthdays. So many new babies joining the extended family. So much life happening all at once.

Yesterday added another memory to that list.

I asked my boss if I could leave a little early so I could join my family at our son’s home to watch opening day for the San Diego Padres. By the time I arrived in the third inning, things were not going well. The Detroit Tigers had exploded in the first inning. It felt like we had walked into a storm already in progress. Final score: 8–2.

But something interesting happened.

Nobody cared.

We were together. Laughing. Talking. Watching. Enjoying the moment for what it was instead of what we hoped it would be.

That’s when my son gave one of those summaries that only sons can give.

“Dad, the team is for sale. Maybe a new owner will open his checkbook and add what we need. Besides, there are 161 games left. Let’s turn our attention to the Hawkeyes. Sweet 16. Single elimination. We haven’t been here since before I was born. Both teams have new coaches. One of us is going to the Elite 8 tonight.”

And just like that, our family double-header began.

We turned our attention to the Iowa Hawkeyes men's basketball facing their long-time rivals, the Nebraska Cornhuskers men's basketball.

For 38 minutes, either Nebraska led or the game was tied. Every time Iowa tied it, Nebraska answered. Three-point shots were falling on both sides, reminiscent of the long-range magic we’ve watched from Caitlin Clark over the past few years.

Then, with just over two minutes remaining, Iowa took its first lead of the entire game.

And then came the moment none of us will ever forget.

Nebraska accidentally had only four players on the court during an inbounds play under their own basket. Our players on the floor saw it immediately. They began pointing frantically downcourt to a wide-open teammate past mid-court.

The pass was thrown.

Boom.

It felt like a Hail Mary in basketball form.

The lead widened. The clock ticked down. Final score: 77–71.

We were on our feet, shouting like children.

My son turned to me and said, “Dad, this is a top three moment in our lives.”

We stayed for the post-game interviews. Both coaches spoke with deep respect for one another. When Nebraska’s players were asked about the four-man breakdown, their coach stepped in, took full responsibility, and praised his team for reaching the Sweet 16 — something no Nebraska team had done before.

That moment stayed with me.

Leadership.

Ownership.

Belief.

Here is Iowa with a first-year coach who had never coached at this level before. Not hired because of pedigree, but because of belief — belief in his ability to bring out the best in his players.

And here we are witnessing something that feels like the beginning of a legacy.

Iowa has long been known for wrestling. For football. The women’s team gave us one of the greatest players the game has ever seen. And now the men’s team is being called the Cinderella story of the tournament.

All because someone believed in the right leader.

All because a group of young men believed in that leader.

All because, for 40 minutes, they refused to stop believing.

“Let us not grow weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.” — Galatians 6:9

As for our family, we will be back together on Saturday, watching history continue to unfold.

Win or lose.

Together.

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Captain’s Addendum

Spock: “Fascinating, Captain. A team’s belief in its leader appears to alter statistical probability.”

Bones: “I’d say it’s less about probability and more about heart, Spock.”

I smiled at that exchange in my mind.

Because yesterday wasn’t really about basketball or baseball.

It was about family. Leadership. Belief. And the joy of witnessing something together that we’ll talk about for years to come.

Join me here:
https://substack.com/@michaelmulliganlivelong

Mission Log complete.

Grateful for moments like this.

Bite-sized Brain Prompts for Success

Stardate 03.26.2026

Have you ever wondered why long-term goals can feel so exhausting before you even begin?

I have. And I’ve come to realize the biggest obstacle was never my schedule, my resources, or even my circumstances.

It was my own brain.

My brain does not like sudden change. It resists. It throws up caution flags. It whispers, This is risky. This is uncomfortable. This is too much.

Those internal conflicts can be draining. They create friction before momentum ever has a chance to build.

Over time, through trial and error, I found a way to work with my brain instead of against it.

The key was learning to introduce bite-sized prompts.

Small changes. Gentle adjustments. No alarms triggered.

Think of it like dating. You don’t spill your entire life story on the first date. You take your time. You build trust. You allow the relationship to deepen naturally before sharing your biggest hopes and dreams.

The same is true with bold goals.

If I tell my brain I’m going to train for an Ironman, it panics.

If I tell my brain I’m going for a short walk, it shrugs.

One small step. Then another. Then another.

Each day, improving one percent.

It’s like flying under the radar. No red alerts. No resistance. Just quiet consistency.

Eventually, something remarkable happens.

Your brain stops fighting you.

It starts trusting you.

It becomes your ally because you’ve proven you’re not trying to force growth faster than its built-in safety system can handle.

I’ve discovered my brain loves consistency more than intensity. It responds to steady rhythm. Predictable effort. Gentle progress.

That’s where real change lives.

“Do not despise these small beginnings, for the Lord rejoices to see the work begin.” — Zechariah 4:10

Small beginnings are not insignificant. They are the doorway to lasting transformation.

If you’re feeling stuck, overwhelmed, or frustrated with slow progress, consider shrinking the prompt you’re giving yourself.

Make it so small your brain doesn’t object.

Then repeat it tomorrow.

And the next day.

And the next.

Join me here:
https://substack.com/@michaelmulliganlivelong

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Captain’s Addendum

Spock: “Captain, it appears the human brain resists abrupt deviations from established patterns.”

Bones: “In plain English, Spock — the man’s saying don’t scare yourself half to death trying to improve too fast.”

Spock: “A measured approach appears… most logical.”

Michael smiled at the exchange.

I’ve learned that growth isn’t about heroic leaps. It’s about faithful steps. Quiet steps. Steps so small they almost feel insignificant — until one day you realize you’ve traveled a great distance.

Thank you for walking this road with me. May today be one small, faithful step forward.