5000 Miles Away
The question I've carried since leaving home
I’m an only child. My parents are a 10-hour flight away, in a timezone 9 hours behind mine.
Is that selfish?
I’ve carried this question for fifteen years. Most of the time, it sits quietly in the background. Then a family emergency hits, and it gets loud.
Where It Started
The question didn’t start when I moved to Europe. It started when I went east for college.
My parents sacrificed a lot to give me the education I had. Private schools from first grade through college, including the most prestigious school in Seattle, where Bill Gates and Paul Allen met.
Then a Top-25 university on the East Coast, chasing a dream of becoming a US diplomat in Beijing. We’ll come back to that in another post.
My dad’s career was affected by the Great Recession, but they stretched to make sure I could continue.
The debt I graduated with gave me challenge and clarity. It sharpened me—taught me to overcome obstacles, navigate uncertainty, and keep pushing through setbacks. That resilience became central to who I am.
I went on to give a TEDx talk and build a career resilience framework on navigating change.
Our high school principal used to say we would become “global citizens.” He was right. I skilled up, grew, built a career that took me further and further from home.
Seattle to Boston, Beijing, London and Berlin.
Each move progressed my career - and added distance.
The Thread That Never Broke
When I was a kid, I loved watching Seahawks games because my parents would let me eat Cheetos.
I grew up with the Seattle Sonics in the 90s, played basketball on rec teams and for my school.
My parents amazingly never missed one of my games. There’s nothing like having a big game in front of family, friends and your school.
When I went to Boston for college, I couldn’t afford to stream Seahawks games. So I listened to the radio broadcast on headphones, 3,000 miles from home.
I haven’t missed a Seahawks game since 2005.
In 2013, I was on my parents’ couch when Seattle won the Super Bowl. Marshawn Lynch beastmode glasses on. Mardi Gras beads in Seahawks colors my mom brought out. Chicken wings, jalapeño poppers and homemade nachos.
That’s what fandom looks like in my family. Following the ups and downs of the team kept me connected to my hometown—even 5,000 miles away.
The Promise
When Francesca and I got married, I made a promise to her family: we’d move closer one day.
They didn’t ask for it. But after five years in Seattle near my parents, I chose to honor that commitment. I was proud to make that move.
We arrived in London in 2016, then transferred to Berlin in 2019. Closer to Italy, continuing our story in Germany - where we first met as students.
I don’t have regrets. But the math doesn’t change. 5,000 miles. Only child. 9 hours behind.
The Ride Home
A few years ago, my mom’s cancer came back. I flew home to help.
I drove her to treatment. 7:30 AM to 1 PM, then home. In between, I did what I could—vacuumed, cleaned up, walked the dog so my dad could rest.
One morning, driving home from treatment, I pulled into the driveway and parked. Before we got out, my mom put her hand on my arm.
She told me she was proud of me. That she couldn’t have done it without me. That she loved me.
For years, I’d felt the weight of being absent—an only child who’d spent a decade abroad, missing almost every Christmas and Thanksgiving.
I felt relief in that moment. In my mother’s eyes, I saw that as a family, we came through for each other.
Music keeps us connected
Anyone who knows my dad knows music is his first language.
I play bass in a jazz band here in Leipzig. Before a gig last year, I brought him the setlist during a visit home.
We spent an afternoon on his hi-fi, going track by track. He coached me on the role of the bass—what it was doing, how it supported the ensemble. Then he sat me down at the piano and walked me through the theory underneath.
After I got back to Leipzig, we played the gig. It went well. I called him to say thanks.
Playing music here keeps me connected to him there. We check in about it regularly. Setting an intention—deciding that music would be something we share—bridges the distance in a way that passive contact doesn’t.
Full Circle
Now I’m building something new.
I’m exploring how sports fans relate to their favorite teams and players—how they express emotion, how fandom shapes identity, how the pulse of a game moves through a community.
It’s meaningful to me because my parents taught me everything about fandom. The Cheetos. The Sonics. The radio broadcasts. The Super Bowl on the couch.
Sports gave me a thread that never broke, no matter how far I moved. Now I’m trying to contribute something back to the culture that bonded me to my family, my hometown, and my friends.
What I’ve Learned
The “is this selfish?” question doesn’t disappear. I’m still 9 hours behind, still a 10-hour flight away. No career choice fixes geography.
But I’ve learned to be more intentional about time. The moment with my mom in the car. The afternoon with my dad and the setlist. These happened because I was present—not checking the clock, not thinking about the flight home.
Life design is a choice anyone can make. You don’t have to be a founder to decide that presence matters more than proximity. But building something of my own has given me more canvas to work with.
I can fly home for a month instead of two weeks. I can set intentions instead of asking permission. I can be bold, be honest, be genuine with my parents while I still can.
That’s not an answer to whether I’m living life right. But it’s a better position from which to keep asking the question.
Next week: ‘What 10 Years of Sales Didn't Teach Me’ about founder-led sales.
Neil Metzler is the founder of Omnisent Sports, making attention and emotion actionable. Born in Seattle, he’s lived abroad since 2016.
Wow, beautifully written! Thanks for sharing the “why” behind where you are now. Life is so short, I love the intersection you’ve found between your passion and business that is trailblazing this path. Can’t wait to see all that you accomplish!