I dived into yoga franchising like an operations manager. I met with experts, I learned the systems, I asked a million questions, and I documented processes. I felt somewhat at ease in that role. As a business owner, however, I was totally out of my element. I took any advice I could get and most of it was from people whose idea of helping me was to help my money transfer to their pockets.

On the franchisor's advice, I hired a third party financial company to help me set up my company. A "C Corp" they said! So I followed their advice, borrowed a humongous chunk of my life savings out of my 401K, and got to work spending it. I needed to start the entire thing from scratch and every time I turned around, there was someone else with their hand out. I needed a realtor, a construction company, a financial advisor, the local Chamber of Commerce, utilities, business licenses, and employees. Money was pouring out of my pockets like it had read the business plan before I did. At one point, even the IRS was like, "Whoa, slow down."

By the time the first studio was built and I flung the doors open, I had invested the equivalent of a very nice single family home. In retrospect, if I'd used that same amount of money to pay off my mortgage, we'd be having a completely different conversation; one where I patted myself on the back and told you how smart I was. Instead, I was burning cash, taking on debt, running myself to rags, and bleeding $10K a month.

I hung on for almost a year before realizing failure was imminent. I started shopping for buyers. I would have handed the keys over and walked away. I talked to a bankruptcy lawyer, I begged the franchisor to take it back, I explored just shutting the doors. By some miracle, one of the other franchisees I'd become friendly with was willing to buy me out; and gave me just enough to pay off the loan I'd taken. I walked away with no debt, but a giant house-sized hole in my retirement plan. Down to my last few bucks in the business checking account, I had just enough to cover that last payroll. By some miracle, I'd averted all of the worst scenarios.

And you know what? I feel genuinely lucky. There are still franchisees bleeding that same $10K a month that I was who never got the chance to walk away clean.

Here's what that year actually taught me:

Everybody in the room had a business model. Mine was the yoga studio. Theirs was me. Protect your money like it's the only money you'll ever have, because sometimes it is.

Stick to your lane. Or at least start small if you venture out of it. I was an operations guy who bought a retail fitness business. That's not a pivot, that's a leap off a cliff in the dark.

I thought leaving corporate would fix the family equation. It didn’t, not yet. I was physically present but mentally somewhere else, running calculations about a disappearing cash act I was starring in. My family got more of my time but they got the deluxe anxiety edition of me.

Here's the part that still gets me though: while I was busy feeling like a complete and utter failure, my family saw something different. They saw me step out of my comfort zone and try. They didn't call it failure. They called it brave. I'm still not sure they were right but I'm glad they were watching.

I walked away broke, humbled, and weirdly grateful. And then I got back up and started smaller. Much smaller.

First came a landscaping business I could run with my own hands. Then a stint driving Amazon delivery routes, literally just to be able to buy Christmas presents. And eventually, the decision that changed everything: we sold the dream house. Cashed it out. Paid off the mortgage and downsized, by choice, on our terms.

It wasn't the plan. But it turned out to be the move.

More on all of that next week.

— Dave Otani

It's not too late. Let's move.