I spent years optimizing my body.
My standing desk.
My sleep tracker.
My diet.
My blood work.
My protein intake.
My vitamins.
My exercise routine.
Then one day I realized I'd spent almost no time thinking about the thing running all of it.
I was upgrading the hardware while completely ignoring the operating system.
Because that's what your brain is.
It's the thing that remembers your daughter's birthday.
Recognizes your spouse's face.
Finds the punchline to the story you've told a hundred times.
Recalls the name of your first dog.
Knows where you left your keys.
It quietly runs your entire life.
The strange thing is, most of us don't think about it until something starts slipping.
A missed word.
A forgotten name.
A conversation that doesn't come quite as easily.
Then suddenly it's all you think about.
Alice
For five years, my family cared for my Aunt Alice.
She had dementia.
She also had aphasia.
If you've heard Bruce Willis's family talk about aphasia, you already understand part of it. It doesn't steal intelligence. It steals language. The thought is still there. The person is still there. They know exactly what they want to say.
The bridge between the thought and the sentence just keeps getting harder to cross.
Watching that happen to someone you love changes the way you think about aging forever.
But here's the part nobody expects.
Alice got more active.
Not less.
Every morning we'd give her something to solve.
Word games.
Puzzles.
Anything that made her think.
We changed her diet too. We leaned into a mostly plant-based lifestyle because there was promising research around nutrition and dementia. We weren't looking for miracles. We were looking for better days.
Then something remarkable happened.
She wanted to move.
She wanted to walk.
Not around the block.
Miles.
Three walks a day.
At seventy-seven years old.
I would never tell you that puzzles cured dementia.
They didn't.
I lived it.
But I also watched the difference between an Alice who had something to challenge her brain each morning and an Alice who didn't.
She laughed more.
She engaged more.
She felt more like herself.
You don't forget that.
Then It Happened to Me
I played rugby in college.
Loved it.
I'd do it again tomorrow.
Back then nobody talked much about concussions.
You got hit.
You shook it off.
You played.
The bill showed up around forty.
You reach for a word you've used ten thousand times, and it isn't there.
You laugh it off.
Use another word.
Then it happens again next week.
That's unsettling.
Not because it ruins your afternoon.
Because it makes you wonder what seventy might look like.
So I started doing the same things for myself that we'd done for Alice.
I walk.
I sleep like it's part of my job.
I eat differently.
I solve puzzles every morning.
Not because I'm scared.
Because I finally realized something.
The brain is something you can train, or something you can neglect.
There really isn't a third option.
Build a Life That Protects Your Brain
The biggest lie in health is that one thing fixes everything.
One supplement.
One diet.
One workout.
One medication.
One puzzle.
Real health is much more boring than that.
It's hundreds of tiny decisions.
Repeated.
Every day.
So I started slowly upgrading the things I repeat.
I won a Ninja Creami in a raffle. Now I actually look forward to breakfast.
Protein.
Fiber.
Creatine.
Greek yogurt.
Berries.
Avocado.
Sauerkraut.
Things I never would have eaten consistently ten years ago have become automatic.
I walk backwards on the treadmill because the research interested me.
I play pickleball a few times a month because it's fun enough that I actually keep doing it.
None of those habits are life-changing on their own.
Together, they become a lifestyle.
That's the point.
The person you'll be twenty years from now is being built by the habits you repeat today.
A daily puzzle is one line on that list.
Not the list.
Anyone selling you one magic answer is probably selling you something.
Which Is Why I Build These
People assume I build word games because I love puzzles.
I do.
But that's not really why.
I built The Hardest because I wanted to give people one more excuse to spend ten intentional minutes every morning actively using their brain instead of passively consuming someone else's thoughts.
Not scrolling.
Thinking.
Not comparing.
Creating.
Not doomscrolling.
Solving.
Winning.
Losing.
Laughing.
Texting your brother because he finally lost today's puzzle.
Those ten minutes matter.
The games aren't the destination.
They're one of the vehicles.
The Company I'm Trying to Build
If you've followed my work over the years, you've probably wondered why I've bounced between software, music, business, nutrition, fitness, writing, and now word games.
It probably looks random.
It isn't.
I've been chasing the same question my entire adult life.
How do we live healthier, sharper, more curious lives?
Sometimes the answer is a better breakfast.
Sometimes it's a walk after dinner.
Sometimes it's calling your mom.
Sometimes it's reading another chapter before bed.
Sometimes it's sitting down with a cup of coffee and spending ten minutes solving today's puzzles.
That's the company I want to build.
Not a game company.
A company that nudges people toward better daily habits.
One puzzle.
One walk.
One meal.
One conversation.
One better decision at a time.
So tomorrow morning, go for the walk.
Eat the better breakfast.
Call your mom.
Read another chapter.
Play today's Daily 5.
Laugh when you get one wrong.
Stay curious.
Because if Alice taught me anything, it's this.
We spend our entire lives protecting almost everything except the part of us that makes us who we are.