It had been one of those days. You know the type—back-to-back meetings, a relentless email onslaught, and a commute that felt more like a test of endurance than a journey home. Wedged into the corner of a packed train carriage, I mindlessly scrolled through my phone, mentally tallying up all the tasks I hadn’t quite finished. And then it happened.  

A man—mid-forties, greying at the temples, wearing the uniform of corporate exhaustion (suit, tie, thousand-yard stare)—collapsed. Right there, in the middle of the carriage.  

Helping a Stranger, Finding Myself  

The low hum of commuter chit-chat cut to silence. People stepped back, unsure what to do. Instinct kicked in. I shoved my bag aside, crouched next to him, and tried to get him talking.  

“Mate, can you hear me?” I asked. No real response. Someone handed me a bottle of water, and I loosened his tie, keeping things calm. After a few moments, he opened his eyes, muttered something about feeling dizzy, and took a sip of water. Relief.  

At the next station, paramedics boarded. As they helped him up, he turned to me with tired but grateful eyes and said, “Thank you. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t been here.”

I just did what anyone would, didn’t I?  

“Tough day?” I asked.  

“Tough year,” he muttered gravely. And something in his voice hit me like a train.  

A Harsh Reflection  

As the train rolled on, I found myself looking around. Tired faces. Hunched shoulders. The occasional resigned sigh. And for the first time, I wondered how many of us were running on empty, just like him.  

Then, I turned the question on myself.  

Was I running on empty?  

I hadn’t collapsed (yet), but I was living the same relentless cycle. Early mornings, late nights, the unshakable pressure to perform. The more I thought about it, the more I saw myself in that man. His collapse wasn’t about one bad day; it was the result of months—maybe years—of neglecting his own wellbeing.  

It was a warning. And I heard it loud and clear.  

The Decision to Quit  

I didn’t walk into the office the next day and hand in my notice. But that moment on the train planted a seed. 

I had a dream of going off grid, of living sustainably within nature. I knew I wanted to work to improve the lives of others – but that was it. That was my big idea and it was all I had.

What if I failed? What if I couldn’t find something better? What if this was just how life was supposed to be? I was consumed by doubt.

But then I’d remember that man’s gratitude. The clarity I felt in those few minutes helping him. That moment felt real in a way my job hadn’t for years. And if helping someone else made me feel that alive, why wasn’t I doing more of it?  

So I made the leap.  

Fresh New Purpose  

Quitting wasn’t easy. It was necessary. For the first time in a long time, I stopped asking what the next promotion, pay rise, or project was—and started asking what I actually wanted. And the answer was simple: purpose.  

That’s what led me to The FNG. The idea of building something for people like me—people who wanted change but didn’t know where to start—felt right. It wasn’t just about health and fitness; it was about helping others live fully and give back. And with 50% of our profits going to charitable causes, I knew I was creating something bigger than myself.  

Lessons from the Train  

That night on the train taught me more than I could have imagined.

– It reminded me of life’s fragility and how easy it is to ignore the warning signs.  

– It showed me that helping others doesn’t just benefit them—it transforms you.  

– And it forced me to confront my own choices.  

Most of all, it reminded me that change is possible. Being the FNG—a Fresh New Guy—means embracing the opportunity to start again, to live with purpose, and to inspire others to do the same. I made the leap to a new life living off grid. It hasn’t been easy—but it’s been transformational.

For the FNGs Reading This  

If you’re reading this and wondering, “Is this how my life is supposed to be?”—let me tell you what I’ve learned.  

Don’t wait for your own ‘train moment’ to wake you up. Reflect on where you are, where you want to be, and what’s holding you back. Then, take the first step.  

It won’t be easy. It might even be terrifying. But trust me—it’ll be worth it. Because you’re the FNG. And every day is a fresh start.  

So, what are you waiting for? The next train is leaving. It’s time to get on board.