For most of my life, I thought I was bulletproof. In 1992, I won a karate tournament, and that feeling of invincibility stuck with me. I was six feet tall, I was fit, and I genuinely believed nothing could touch me. Exercise was my hammer, and every problem—especially every physical one—looked like a nail. But life has a way of teaching you that the order in which you do things matters a whole lot more than just doing them.

The Order I Got Wrong

In my 20s, exercise was my god. I worked out hard, I pushed myself, and it worked. I felt good. But somewhere after 25, I noticed a change. Every time I looked down, there it was—a little more around the waistline. My go-to solution was simple: exercise harder. But for the first time, it wasn't cutting it.

By my 30s, I wised up enough to know I needed to eat better. I kn ...