Five Years, One Heart, and the Quiet Power of Momentum
February 9th marked the fifth anniversary of my heart surgery to repair a damaged mitral valve. It’s a date I don’t celebrate with fanfare, but I do honor it with reflection.
Five years ago, my world narrowed to a single, fragile organ. Today, my world feels wider, stronger, and—most importantly—full of momentum.
Consistency Is Underrated. Compounding Is Not.
I didn’t wake up one morning suddenly “fit.” There was no dramatic transformation or viral before-and-after moment. What there was instead was consistency—quiet, unglamorous, repetitive consistency.
Since my surgery, I’ve continued playing a lot of tennis and working out with my trainer twice a week. Week after week. Year after year. Even when progress felt slow. Even when pain made me question whether it was worth it.
And then, almost without realizing it, the compounding began to show itself.
Measuring Progress, Not Perfection
When I first attempted a dead hang, I don’t think I could make it past 15 seconds. Most recently, I clocked in at 1 minute and 25 seconds. That didn’t happen because of one great workout. It happened because of hundreds of ordinary ones.
My trainer also discovered something I had been compensating for without knowing it: extremely poor left ankle mobility. Normal dorsiflexion ranges between 10 and 20 degrees. My right ankle measured 24 degrees. My left? 8 degrees.
Last week, we remeasured. My left ankle had improved to 14 degrees.
Here is the test I did to show the flexibility of my left ankle. It’s not easy to tell from this picture, but it is limited.
This shows my right ankle test, and it has far more flexibility than my left. Fortunately, however, my left is now in the normal range.
That moment was deeply satisfying—not because it was dramatic, but because it was earned.
In addition to the dramatic improvements in my dead-hang capacity and left ankle flexibility, I also had an InBody scan for the first time in a year. This measures different aspects of one’s body composition. Here are the highlights:
- Body fat dropped from 16.2% to 13.2%
- Weight stayed the same
- Skeletal muscle mass increased by 3.6 pounds
Some of my shirts are noticeably more snug. I’ll take that trade every time.
Productive Capacity
What I feel most isn’t vanity—it’s capacity.
My core is stronger.
The weights are heavier.
My balance is better.
My cardio has improved.
And perhaps most importantly, my productive capacity—physical, mental, and emotional—has expanded.
Which makes what comes next all the more meaningful.
Pain, Persistence, and an Unexpected Breakthrough
For over eight years, I’ve lived with significant pain from sciatica and spinal stenosis. I’ve mostly just grinned and borne it.
I even underwent a surgical procedure that, unfortunately, I would categorize as a complete bust because not only did the pain persist, but it left me with numbness under my right toes—numbness that has since traveled higher and, to a lesser degree, spread to my left foot. At times, the pain from simply walking or standing in one place could be intense to the point of being unbearable.
About a month ago, I was on X and came across a tweet where someone listed his favorite supplements and why he used them. Number one on his list was MSM, which he said was very effective for joint pain.
I figured, why not?
I held out very little hope.
To my utter surprise, after a couple of weeks, I was in far less pain than I’ve been in years.
The numbness hasn’t disappeared. The pain hasn’t fully vanished. But I feel better more consistently. And the psychological impact of that relief—after so many years—is hard to overstate.
It’s improved my mental health.
It’s made my workouts even more productive.
And it’s given me a renewed appreciation for moments of being pain-free—something I had almost forgotten was possible.
Tending the Court, Tending the Community
Another form of compounding in my life over the past several years has come through a continued investment Heather and I have made in The Tennisphere.
What started as a vision has evolved into something far richer and more demanding than I initially appreciated. Over the past couple of years, we’ve easily had more than 1,000 people come through our home for tennis and shared time together. Many of them are repeat visitors to our twice-weekly live ball sessions.
It’s a lot of work.
It’s a real responsibility.
And it’s deeply socially enriching.
There’s something powerful about creating a place where people return again and again—not because they have to, but because they want to.
Relationships compound the same way health does: through repetition, presence, and care.
Heather and I often joke that we’re “working on the farm.” The farm, in our case, is the tennis court we call The Eleven.
That work isn’t metaphorical. It’s literal. Sweeping. Fixing. Squeegeeing water off the court after a rainstorm—like I did earlier this week. It’s not glamorous, but it’s grounding. There’s real satisfaction in tending to something physical, something shared, something that gives back energy proportional to the effort invested.
The court reflects the care it receives.
So do bodies.
So do communities.
What strikes me is how aligned this feels with everything else I’ve learned over the past five years. Health, strength, relationships, and momentum don’t come from grand gestures.
They come from showing up consistently and being willing to do the maintenance work that no one applauds.
And then one day, you look around and realize something meaningful has taken root.
Momentum
In a recent interview I listened to with Michael Ovitz, conducted by Shane Parrish, Ovitz talked about how momentum is one of the most powerful forces for both businesses and individuals.
In physics, momentum equals mass times velocity.
I feel like I’m gaining healthier mass—muscle, resilience, confidence—and I’m moving at a stronger pace in the right direction. That momentum is compounding in ways that touch every part of my life.
Gratitude and Forward Motion
Five years after heart surgery, I feel a sense of overall fitness, gratitude, and forward motion.
I don’t take my heart—or my health—for granted.
I don’t chase intensity for its own sake.
I believe deeply in consistency, patience, and letting compounding do its quiet work.
Momentum doesn’t announce itself.
It reveals itself—over time.
And right now, I can feel it.
I started off by noting that last week was the five-year anniversary of my heart surgery. During my last cardiology appointment, my doctor said one would never know that I had heart surgery, as it was functioning beautifully. I have my next appointment in April so hopefully the report will be equally as positive.
I could never have recovered as I did without Heather’s incredible support and love. My surgery took place during Covid. She was literally the first visitor allowed into Cedars-Sinai after restrictions were lifted. She took a video of her conversation with the surgeon after he completed the operation, and he said that my damaged valve was one of the worst ones he had ever seen, which is pretty shocking given he had done well over 1,000 of these surgeries. As my late wife Roneet used to say, “If you’re going to get sick, you better be healthy.”
Fortunately, I was, but I needed far more than my own health; I needed the love, care, and concern of a beautiful partner like Heather.
Leave a Reply