At 6 a.m. every morning, I gather fresh eggs, check the vegetable garden, breathe in the cool North Florida air, watch my dogs race across five acres, and walk into my home office to begin a virtual meeting with a client.
Five years ago, my mornings began very differently.
Before sunrise, I had already left my home in Miami and was in bumper-to-bumper traffic on Interstate 95. My commute to my job, which began as a fitness director and advanced to acting spa director and later as spa director at another facility, had stretched from 35 to 50 minutes, plus a 20-minute ferry ride.
I paid about $65 a week in tolls, drove 20,000 to 22,000 miles each year, and accepted nearly two hours of commuting as simply part of building a successful career.
I believed those sacrifices were the cost of doing business
Our culture often presents a choice between pursuing success and living a simpler life. What I didn’t recognize was that I was also paying hidden quality-of-life costs in time, attention, stress, and mental energy, which diminished both the quantity and quality of my work. They never appeared on a budget, yet they quietly influenced how I lived, worked, and thought.
Ironically, after more than four decades helping clients improve their physical and emotional well-being as a medical fitness specialist, I hadn’t fully recognized how much my own environment was shaping mine.
Then COVID-19 created something unexpected
For the first time in decades, life became quiet enough for me to step back and evaluate the life I had built. I suddenly found myself with enough distance from my normal routine to ask questions I had been too busy to consider before.
I started looking for a vacation home where I could spend more time outdoors with my dogs. Then someone asked what my dream home would look like if I could live anywhere. I wrote it down, and the search quietly shifted toward finding a new place to live full-time.
I kept picturing myself sitting at a desk in a wooded area, writing. The vision came to life while searching on Zillow and yielded three top choices.
It was quite an experience searching for homes in the mountains
Some were too far from anyone I knew, and others would have a serious winter season, which was foreign to me.
I flew to each of those cities and, after inspecting several properties, I made a list of the pros and cons of each. It came down to a North Florida property. It was closer to family and a bit larger than I had in mind, but it had all the specifics I was looking for: woods, land, seasonal changes, and they accepted a lower offer.
As a Christian, I’ve always made prayer part of my decision-making. Over time, I became convinced God wasn’t asking me to escape my life — he was asking me to realign it.
The decision also made practical sense
Real estate in South Florida had skyrocketed, and my home in Miami had appreciated substantially. Selling it allowed me to buy 5.5 acres at 59% of my Miami home’s selling price, left me with the funds needed for remodeling and upgrades, and reduced recurring expenses.
I moved some of my clients to a new trainer who was a good fit for them. Two clients wished to remain with me and work remotely.
The home I bought was a foreclosure, which meant it could take three months or more to close, requiring me to stay in a rental or hotel with my dogs — another serious adjustment. Finally spending almost two years remodeling the house tested my patience more than I expected.
Like any worthwhile investment, the return has unfolded over time. My property has appreciated to double the price I paid for it.
Nearly five years later, I can say it was worth every challenge
In South Florida, I spent weekends on my Jet Ski. Flying across Biscayne Bay felt like the perfect escape from a demanding workweek. Occasionally, dolphins would surface nearby, jumping alongside me as I crossed the water.
I’ve traded my Jet Ski for a Hustler zero-turn lawn mower. I spend time maintaining pastures, tending gardens, and caring for the property that has become my sanctuary. The wildlife encounters haven’t disappeared — they’ve simply changed. I now watch small herds of deer graze peacefully in the fields.
Some of the financial benefits were obvious.
My auto insurance premium dropped from $280 to about $125 a month after moving north. Homeowners insurance fell from roughly $4,000 a year to $1,800, and property taxes declined from $4,000 annually to $1,600.
My monthly fuel bill was cut by more than half, tolls virtually disappeared, and my current vehicle, purchased new in 2023, has under 20,000 miles after nearly three years.
My work has changed as well
Technology allows me to work with clients across the country, but the biggest change wasn’t where I work — it was how I work.
For years, I managed teams of 30 to 40 employees while supporting communities of several thousand elite residents. It was fulfilling, but every day required constant decisions, interruptions, staffing issues, and operational problem-solving.
Today, my office overlooks gardens, open fields, and woods. When I need a break, I step outside and walk the property, work in the garden, or watch deer cross the pasture before returning to my desk.
Other changes happened because my environment changed
Living in Miami made it easy to stop for lunch, meet friends for dinner, shop on the way home, or spend money simply because everything was convenient.
I’d always encouraged my clients to prepare meals in advance because it saves time, reduces impulse eating, and lowers food costs. Living in a rural community makes it easier to consistently practice those habits. Restaurants are no longer around every corner, and shopping has become intentional rather than convenient.
Weekly dry cleaning, salon appointments, dog-walking services, and a home alarm system disappeared. Professional suits and designer shoes gradually gave way to jeans, work boots, and workout clothes.
Acreage, however, requires equipment, fencing, landscaping, and continual upkeep that doesn’t exist on a suburban lot. Travel is less convenient, too. Instead of flying directly from Miami to almost anywhere, most trips now require connections.
There are other trade-offs
I miss having my niece and her children nearby, but we talk almost daily, and we’ve traveled together around the US and to Europe.
I also miss my longtime housekeeper, who knew my home, my routines, and my dogs almost as well as I did.
Every meaningful decision asks us to give something up
Somewhere along the way, I became so immersed in the business of doing business that I stopped evaluating my quality of life.
Living in the country doesn’t equate with loneliness, as my days are still filled with Zooms and FaceTimes. I have close neighbors who watch out for me, and when I need something, I call them. The difference is that I traded constant interruption for intentional connection.
My cost of living declined, my productivity increased, my stress level fell, and my quality of life has improved, but the greatest return wasn’t measured by lower insurance premiums, fewer tolls, or a shorter commute. It came from finally aligning my faith, my values, my work, and the life I wanted to build.
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