My father passed on December 18th, 2016.

He was a 20-year Army veteran who served in two wars — Korea and Vietnam. He came home. He built a life. He raised a family. By most measures, he made it.

But he carried things the rest of us couldn't see.

He suffered from post-traumatic stress for as long as I can remember. I didn't fully understand what that meant until his final months, when I sat with him in the hospital and watched him relive his combat experiences in real time. What he saw in those wars never left him. It just waited.

Over the years, his body broke down too. Simple things became impossible — bending over, picking something up off the floor, getting out of a chair. Things you and I don't think about twice. For him, they were daily reminders of what he'd lost. And I watched that take a toll on him that was just as real as anything that happened overseas.

It made me realize something I've never stopped thinking about: we owe it to ourselves to take care of our minds and bodies while we still can. And we owe it to the people who sacrificed theirs so we'd have the option.

That's where Norman came from.

In November of 2017, I created a high-intensity memorial workout in my dad's honor at CrossFit Novato. We run it every December 18th — the anniversary of his passing. The goal was simple: sweat together, honor his memory, and raise money for veterans who are still fighting their own battles at home.

To date, we've raised over $35,000 for the Mark Divine Courage Foundation, an organization that helps veterans rebuild through physical health, mental toughness, and purpose. Twenty-two veterans die by suicide every day in this country. That number doesn't go away when you look away from it.

Norman isn't just a workout. It's the reason I became a CrossFit instructor. It's the reason I understand what the body is capable of — and what it costs when you ignore it for too long. It's one of the most direct lines between who my father was and who I'm trying to be.

If you want to support the work — and the veterans carrying what my father carried — you can make a tax-deductible donation below.