NO TIME TO WASTE w/Mike Brown

At 43, Mike Brown—an accomplished federal agent, husband, and father—was diagnosed with ALS. But instead of retreating, he stepped forward. Faced with a terminal diagnosis, Mike made a conscious choice: to live more, not less. In the time since, he has become a force of purpose, reminding the world that clarity often comes not in comfort, but in crisis. Through honesty, grit, and grace, Mike is teaching others not just how to survive—but how to truly live.

ALLIÉ: You were 43 when you were diagnosed with ALS—a moment that I can only imagine changed everything. Looking back, what did that diagnosis awaken in you, Mike? What did it awaken that had perhaps been dormant for the first 42 years?
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MIKE: That’s a phenomenal question. We go through life knowing—at least in the back of our minds—that we’re all going to die. That’s part of life. But in our minds, especially when we’re younger, that’s a “future problem,” right? So we don’t really take into consideration that, A) you can actually go at any time—tragedy can happen—and B) that death isn’t always some far-off thing.

So when I received a diagnosis of an incurable, terminal disease, it made everything that much more real. Suddenly, I had an expiration date—and it was moved up significantly. You have life plans. You have a career, a family. The goal was to grow old with your spouse and watch your kids grow. Then all of a sudden, that future is seemingly going to be taken away. And while, yes, that’s true for anyone at any time, the difference is, I was forced to reckon with that reality immediately.

It opened my eyes. It made me understand that we can’t dwell on the past, and we can’t live too far into the future. We’re supposed to experience what’s happening right now.

Yes, this diagnosis is terrible—it’s a horrible thing to go through—but there’s a blessing in disguise. I enjoy each moment more. I appreciate each interaction more—not just with my family, but with everyone I come into contact with.

We don’t tell our loved ones we love them enough, and when we do, we often do it out of habit. I make the joke, “Make it weird.” Say it so much that the other person’s like, “Yeah, I get it. You love me. I’ll see you tomorrow.” But the reality is… you might not.

There’s so much we let disturb our every day that really isn’t that important. I’m not perfect—my kids still drive me nuts, and I still drive them nuts—but I’m more aware. Let’s say I used to be aware 25% of the time. Now, it’s more like 85%. I’m on more. I cherish the moments more.

ALLIÉ: Absolutely. I love that you say your awareness shifted from here to here. Maybe we can’t ever get all the way “there,” but moving closer—that feels like the goal.

MIKE: Exactly. And I’d argue that’s what being human is about. We’re not perfect. But in my mindset—which has definitely shifted over the past year and a half—our imperfections are what make us perfect. If we were always “on,” we’d be robots. That’s boring. The fact that we’re flawed is what makes us flawless.

ALLIÉ: Yes, I love that mindset. Let’s talk about something powerful you’ve said: that your mission now is to ensure no one has to wait for a terminal diagnosis to start really living. So what does really living mean to you today? And how would you define it for someone who thinks they still have all the time in the world?
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MIKE: Great question. My mission now is to help just one person. When I talk to different groups, that’s my goal—reach one person. If I do that, I’ve done my job. Because that domino effect can go on to help others.

We all hear the clichés—“live life to the fullest,” right? But living life to the fullest every day is impossible. What does that even mean—skydiving into Disney World and then launching to the moon? It’s unrealistic.

What I try to emphasize is: we have zero days to waste. That doesn’t mean you need to do something amazing every single day. It means don’t waste your days being angry or holding grudges. Yes, sadness and depression are real and complex, but we don’t have to stay in those places.

Not every day has to be physically productive. If you spend the day watching movies with your family, that’s not a wasted day. That’s a great day. The lawn will get mowed. The laundry will get done. I used to be so meticulous. But now? I let the small stuff go.

Do you have kids?

ALLIÉ: Oh yeah.

MIKE: Then you’ll laugh at this. Right after my diagnosis, my son—he was around 11 or 12—jumps on our bed to watch TV with the dirtiest socks ever. Before ALS, I would’ve flipped out: “What are you doing?! Your socks are disgusting!” But in that moment, I stopped. I thought, What’s the big deal? They’re just socks.

And that shift in perspective applies to work, too. Your job doesn’t define you. It’s just a means to live your life. In law enforcement, that gun and badge often become someone’s identity. But when you leave the job, the machine keeps moving. We’re all just cogs—and that’s okay. But your identity should be rooted in who you are outside of work.

ALLIÉ: That’s such a good point. And speaking of work, let’s talk more about your career. As a federal agent, your job was to protect others. Now, you’re still protecting—only this time, it’s people’s perspectives you’re trying to save. How has your sense of duty and service evolved since your diagnosis?

MIKE: It’s definitely shifted. I spent 10 years as an air marshal, focused on making sure 9/11 never happened again on our watch. Then I served 5 years with the Secret Service, and now I’m a postal inspector. I love the job—being an investigator, protecting people. But since the diagnosis, being in the field has become harder. So I’ve pivoted. Now I travel and share our story. It’s not just about the disease—it’s about perspective. We all go through tough things. And yes, I have it pretty bad. But some people have it even worse.

So if I can share a message that helps even one person shift their perspective, then it feels like an extension of my 17 years in service—just a different kind of mission. And I welcome it.

ALLIÉ: I love that you called it our story. It’s not just your journey—it’s everyone around you who’s been impacted and changed alongside you.

MIKE: Absolutely. In some ways, it’s harder on the people around me. I used to be built like a bodybuilder—25 years in the gym, every day. That was part of my identity.

And now? That’s been stripped away. My wife and kids have only ever known me that way. Watching that deterioration is heartbreaking for them.

When you’re going through it, you just push forward. But they see it. They’ll remember the decline. That’s tough. And they carry that memory long after I’m gone.

ALLIÉ: It is tough. Let’s talk about resilience. It’s a word that’s often used but rarely lived the way you’re living it. What does resilience look like on your hardest days? How do you keep showing up with purpose, with passion—even when the pain is invisible to others?
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MIKE: That’s a great question. I haven’t really said this before, but I’ll share it here. There’s a little bit of… deception.
And what I mean is—it’s not just me digging deep. It’s everyone else around me. Their presence, their support—that’s what gets me out of bed. They don’t have to say anything. Just knowing they’re there pushes me forward. I coach several teams, and I use those kids and coaches as motivation. They give me two hours of freedom—freedom from thinking about the disease. I’m always aware of it, but for those couple of hours, it’s not in the foreground.

So to answer your question: it’s the people around me. They don’t even realize the impact they’re having. But they’re everything.

ALLIÉ: That makes perfect sense. I love how you said that—you get to step outside yourself for a moment, to live through someone else’s joy.

MIKE: Exactly. And here’s the strange part—I’ve learned that we all have an impact on others that we may never realize.

This journey, as awful as it is, is like a very long, slow goodbye. And during that time, people tell you things they normally wouldn’t. You find out how much of a difference you made in their lives.

I tell people: I hope you never find out how much impact you’ve had. Because that usually means you’re saying goodbye.
It’s a strange but beautiful realization.

ALLIÉ: It really is. So, one final question: If you could go back and whisper one thing to your 30-year-old self—knowing what you know now—what would you say, and why?

MIKE: Two words: Be patient.

Some of us are wired to rush through life. But I’d tell myself to slow down. Don’t get too far ahead of yourself. Enjoy what’s right in front of you. The past is funny. We all wake up at 3 a.m. remembering something cringey from years ago, right?

ALLIÉ: Yes!

MIKE: But you can’t go back. And you can’t jump ahead. All you have is now. So be patient.

As a husband and father, I’d say the same: be patient with them. Be patient with yourself. Yes, tomorrow isn’t guaranteed, and yes, we have zero days to waste—but that doesn’t mean we should rush through life either.

It’s a bit counterintuitive, but that’s the balance—don’t waste time, but don’t speed past it either.

ALLIÉ: Exactly. Enjoy the now. We’re always asking, what’s next, but the truth is: what’s next is what’s now.

MIKE: Right? And maybe I’m just archaic, but it literally took a terminal diagnosis to adopt that mindset.

I’m sure there are people out there who already get it—who don’t need something like this to wake up to that truth. But for most of us, I think we get stuck looking backward or forward and forget to live right here.

ALLIÉ: It’s so strange, isn’t it? That we’re called human beings, but just being is the hardest thing to do.

MIKE: Totally. And not to go too far off-topic, but this journey has made me question everything.

Are you spiritual?

ALLIÉ: I am.

MIKE: I find myself constantly wondering--Is this it? Is there more? No one really knows. People have beliefs and hopes. But now I think about it all the time.

Living is amazing. So it’s hard to imagine something better. But who knows?

It’s a crazy mind game.

ALLIÉ: I think we’re all part of something bigger. Whatever it is, I try to stay curious—not scared. 

For the now we’ve shared here today, Mike… thank you. Thank you for your wisdom, your vulnerability, and your purpose. Thank you for helping us all become a bit more aware… now.

MIKE: Thank you for saying that. You never know if you’re wasting people’s time. So to hear that? It means everything.

ALLIÉ: Not wasting my time. Not wasting anyone’s time, Mike… Thank you so much. ∎​