{{first_name | Loyal Reader}},
I am writing this with legs that currently refuse to function and a heart that is completely full.
This past Saturday, we didn't sign up for an organized race. There were no crowds, no medals, and no safety nets. We just opened the front door and ran. We called it the inaugural "LeBarathon."
The lineup was my son Asa (12), Atlas (10), myself, and, perhaps most surprisingly, my six-year-old daughter, Sage.
We started way too fast. Adrenaline is a liar. It tells you that you can sprint forever. We held a strong pace for the first eight or nine miles, but eventually, the reality of a longer-than-normal run set in.
It was freezing. We were running eastward down Hunt Highway in a rural, suburban stretch of South Chandler. We hadn't packed sweaters, and the desert morning chill was cutting right through us.
For miles, we stared at the horizon. We watched the bright morning sun trying to claw its way over the jagged peaks of the Santan Mountains. It was right there. You could see the glow, you could feel that the warmth was imminent, but it just wouldn’t peek over the edge.
We were practically begging it to rise. We needed that warmth. But the mountain wouldn't move, and the sun wouldn't hurry.
This standoff with the sun reminded me of a conversation I had with Sage during our training. She is only six, and naturally, she was nervous. I kept telling her:
"Sage, you can do anything you will your mind to do. If you prepare for it, you can do it."
And she did it. Her attitude was unbreakable afterwards. We stopped exactly once, at a gas station to grab a refill on electrolytes and a protein cookie, and then she got right back to work.
No aid stations…that was my job. Just moral support and encouragement to run in the cold.
But watching that sun struggle to rise taught me the other half of the lesson.
We can believe. We can will our minds. We can push through the pain. But some things are simply outside our control. Sometimes, you just have to run through the cold.
You have to be patient. Eventually, just like that sun, the breakthrough will rise. It will warm you up. But you have to endure the chill to get there.
Crossing the finish line was a high, but the physical aftermath at 35 is a brutal reality check. My soreness made me think of those who live with this physical reality every day, our aging generation.
I won't be here forever, and as long as I'm taking care of them, I wonder if they will take care of me?
Obviously there's medical assistance and management that many people will need as they age…which surely requires a medical professional and not something anybody can just do.
It reinforces why I am so obsessed with Scattered Site Senior Housing.
We are approaching a future where the concept of a "nursing home" will be obsolete. The future isn't institutional; it is residential.
With the rapid advancement of AI, robotics, and autonomous systems, the home itself will become the caregiver.
AI Monitoring: Systems that predict health events before they happen.
Robotics: Autonomous assistance for mobility and daily tasks, drastically reducing the need for constant human labor.
Privacy: High-level care without the intrusion of a facility staff rotation.
We are moving toward a world where our elderly can age in place, in a beautiful home in a regular neighborhood, supported by technology that protects their dignity rather than stripping it away.
If there is one takeaway from this weekend, it isn't about real estate or investments. It’s about not taking this life for granted.
We live in a world of comfort, but we grow in the cold.
Take a moment this week to do something incredibly hard. Do something you truly don't believe you can accomplish. Because when you cross that finish line, whether it's a marathon or a difficult project, your mind expands. You realize you are capable of more, and you become ready for the next challenge.
Then do that hard thing with your kids.
Encourage them, tell them you didn’t believe it was possible either.
And while you’re at it, pick up the phone. Call your mom. Call your dad. Hug your kids. Life is FLYING past us, and the time we have to make these memories is shorter than we think.
I am currently vetting opportunities in this tech-enabled, residential senior housing space. If you are interested in where this asset class is heading, let's have a conversation.
Reply to this email if you’d like to discuss anything in CRE, Senior Housing, or just talk about how I convinced my 6-year-old to run a marathon.
To your success,
Andrew LeBaron
P.S. I put together a more in depth version of this newsletter on my site. I also include other articles with data I’ve collected from the CRE markets.
You can read the full breakdown here: