Let’s be honest, finding time for yourself as a business owner, parent, or leader can feel impossible. Between managing projects, answering client emails, showing up for your team, coaching your kid’s sports team, being present at home, and trying to stay sane somewhere in the middle, personal time is usually the first thing to go..

It’s easy to justify. The business needs you. Your family needs you. There are fires to put out, invoices to send, phone calls to return. So when a window of free time opens up, instead of giving it to yourself, you feel like you should give it to everyone but yourself. And that’s where it starts to wear you down.

But I’ve come to believe something different, something that took me a while to understand. Making time for yourself isn’t selfish, it’s responsible. And for me, that realization came through a surprising place, off-road dirt biking.

Post-COVID, I needed an outlet. Something unrelated to business. Something physical. Something I could throw myself into without any expectations of productivity or ROI. Business and the perpetual grind was wearing me down. I started riding dirt bikes. At first, it was just a fun escape, but it quickly became a passion. Something I could get better at, something to research and nerd out on, something that challenged me in new ways. It’s now grown into racing and self-structured practice, but more than anything, it’s become a mental break that I look forward to every week.

Because when I’m riding, I’m not thinking about business. I’m not thinking about problems. There’s no room for that. Your mind can’t be on your inbox when you’re navigating roots, ruts, and trees. It demands full attention, and because of that, it creates a rare and beautiful thing in today’s world, mental quiet.

That’s what a good hobby should do. It should bring you into the flow state, that place where you’re completely absorbed in the moment. Where time slows down or disappears. Where your brain stops spiraling and just settles. It’s not passive rest, like watching Netflix on the couch. It’s active presence. That’s the kind of recharging that actually sticks with you, the kind that resets your system and gives your brain space to breathe.

As business owners, we are constantly in go-mode. We’re the decision-makers, the problem-solvers, the visionaries. We wake up with ideas and go to sleep with to-do lists. And if we’re not careful, that constant mental output turns into burnout. You can’t run on empty and expect to lead well, at least not for long.

But when you have something that draws you in, whether it’s riding, woodworking, fly fishing, painting, hiking, or playing music, you start to build a rhythm that includes both output and recovery. It becomes a place your brain can drift toward when there’s a gap, instead of drifting toward stress. It gives you something to look forward to that doesn’t hinge on performance or pressure. That’s powerful. 

Let’s talk about the guilt for a second, because it’s real. I’ve felt it. That pull to give your free time to your family instead of spending it on something that benefits “just you.” You feel like you’re stealing from them, like every hour you take for yourself is an hour less for them.

But here’s the flip side. When you don’t take care of yourself, when you’re always pouring out without refilling the tank, you’re not showing up as the best version of you. You’re tired, short-tempered, distracted, less patient, less creative, less inspired, and that affects everyone around you.

When I ride regularly, I’m better at everything else. I’m a better husband, a better dad, a better business owner, a better friend. I have more energy, more clarity, more margin. Because I’m doing something that fills my cup, not drains it. And honestly, my family feels that, even if they don’t know what to call it. My business has been more successful, more profitable, and more manageable since I stopped living within it. The same goes for my personal life.

So this is your nudge. If you’ve let your hobby drift away, if you’ve told yourself there’s just no time, or if you’re waiting for permission to pursue something just for fun, this is it.

Pick up the guitar. Dust off the bike. Lace up the shoes. Take the class. Go on the hike. Make the time.

Not because it’s productive, not because it’s efficient, but because it keeps you human, and in this business, staying human is what keeps you sharp.