"I don't feel like it right now"

If you wait to do what you should or must to make your future better until you “feel like it” or are “in the mood” or “inspired right now”, you’ll likely not make much progress.

Self-discipline is a master quality of high achievers, and self-disciplined people do what they must even when they don’t feel like it.  They get to work, and what they find is by getting going on it even when they don’t feel like doing it, soon enough, they get into it and FEEL like doing it because they ARE doing it.

How about you?

"Dust to Glory"

(Continued…)

As the sun rose over the mountains, Tanner raced away from Javier who had just saved the race again by installing a new headlight.  We wouldn’t have to worry about the electrical system burning up.  In all the excitement, was it 90 seconds Tanner had to make up, or two or three minutes? Whatever it was, he had only 40 miles to do it.  285x had a fresh rider, and Tanner was battle worn from running 410 miles by now.

No matter, he tapped into all he and the bike had, each foot of unforgiving terrain presenting him a new definition of what the limit was.  He saw blood in the form of dust in the distance ahead.  He caught the dust and tried to remain stealthy, so as not to alert the rider ahead of his presence until it was absolutely necessary.  A good rider on an 8 foot wide road can weave and block a pass if he knows someone is behind him. Tanner looked at the course ahead and picked his moment, and roared by.  But 200 yards later, the next crisis began.

There was a 3-way fork.  Straight clearly had a green wrong way sign, typically used on the course.  The left had a green wrong way sign that was knocked down and facing up, and the right had no sign.  Tanner went right.  285x followed him.  He raced ahead four miles and saw no orange course marker signs.  Oh no.  Another fork, unmarked.  He picked right.  He thought if he was going the wrong way, the faster he went the faster he’d find out.  Another 1/4 mile and a barbed wire fence was across the road.  He locked both brakes and spun around.  As he started back, he passed 285x skidding to a stop.  He went back the 1/4 mile and took the left fork.  It went to the same place as the right fork.  He stopped, and 285x stopped alongside him.  He turned to go back to the 3-way intersection.  On the way he passed 318x who followed them both down the wrong way.

At the 3-way, this time he picked left – the way with the downed wrong way sign.  It took him 200 yards to realize it was not right – there were no tracks like on the race course.  He stopped. 285x saw him from the intersection, knew it wasn’t right, and turned down the middle – the last option with the wrong way sign that was up.  Both riders knew it was the only way it could be. Now 285x was in front yet again.

Why would there be a wrong way sign at the correct way?  Two reasons.  Some mischievous locals change signs to mess with vehicles and watch what happens.  Or, sadly, a leader who knows he’s ahead could stop and change the signs so he can’t be followed easily and extend his lead.  We think it was the latter for reasons to be explained another time.

Sure enough, Tanner started seeing orange course markers.  Somebody had changed the signs. He had to catch 285x again.  As he pulled closer, a speed zone sign came up.  A speed zone is a speed limit through houses or a ranch.  It was 37 mph, and if you violate it you get penalized.  Neither rider wanted to get penalized and lose the race that way. Tanner was 200 feet behind.  In the speed zone there were some 90 degree turns that 285x slowed down below 37 mph to make. Tanner swept these turns wide so he didn’t need to slow down, and he caught up with his front wheel next to the leader’s back wheel.  In this way they proceeded, awkwardly, like two opposing soldiers in close quarters unable to attack each other.

Then 318x came speeding up, obviously violating the speed limit.  When he saw the two bikes ahead going slow he realized it and fell in behind them, three bikes now nearly side by side. Suddenly, 285x took off.  Did the speed zone end?  Tanner did not see a sign that it had and didn’t want to lose on penalties.  We had decided in advance to ride a very clean race.  He let him go and stayed at 37 mph for another TWO miles!  Not seeing any signs, he decided the speed zone must be over, and let it rip. He was now way behind – again.

Digging deep, he raced through the hills at 100% – the bleeding edge.  Would he make a mistake and end it all?  He caught up AGAIN.  The course dropped down to a new superhighway that was under construction and unpaved.  This was about 3 miles where you could find out how fast your bike would go. Both riders unleashed every horse out of their Honda 450x motors. They accelerated to speeds that blow your motocross helmet back.  Motocross helmets have an open face and a big visor you can tip down to keep the sun, or dirt blasted from another rider’s wheel, out of your face.  At 100 mph it’s a sail, and it’s all you can do to keep your head forward.

Side by side they hit the highest speeds these specially geared desert racing machines would go. Tanner tucked in tighter than 285x and crept ahead – he was in the lead with the town of Ensenada and the finish line ahead, where I waited, anxious, thinking and praying for my son.  I knew it was a high speed section, because it was the same section I had going out at the start – but I wasn’t racing for the finish.  A crash at these speeds could be catastrophic.

There was a highway bridge under construction.  At the edge of the concrete bridge to the unfinished dirt highway transition, there was a curb of dirt.  At 100 mph things come up very fast.  Tanner saw it, and so did 285x only one second behind.  Who would have the courage and skill to survive it without slowing down much?  285x slowed.  A bump like this, 10″ high, would kick the rear wheel up and throw the rider over the handlebars.  Spectators lined the course in this dangerous point to watch.

Tanner used his motocross instincts.  He pushed down into the bump with his legs, goosed the throttle wide open, and pulled up on the handlebars as hard as he could, keeping his butt as far off the seat as possible so when the rear end came up it didn’t eject him.  He sailed six feet off the ground for 120 feet in what was surely a moment of awe for the spectators. He pulled a gap on 285x.

As the road narrowed into town, Tanner thought there may be a 60 mph speed zone as there was on most roads in the course.  You would not be able to see an 8″ x 10″ speed zone sign at 100 mph. In all this mayhem he had to make a decision.  Not wanting to get penalized, he slowed to 60 mph. 285x sped by! There was his answer, there was no speed zone. Again, he was behind!

He wished the race were 50 miles longer.  He raced to catch him again.  Now they were in town. They had a few turns on concrete roads, drop down into the riverbed for a mile, pop up onto the street again, and three turns on streets to the finish.  Tanner decided not to try to make another pass until they got into the dirt riverbed.  Knobby tires are not made for concrete and the braking is very bad.  The streets were damp with morning dew and turning was treacherous.  He stayed on 285x’s fender, blasting through town.

“Miracle Mile”

They took a right turn off the street and dropped into the riverbed. Both riders summoned all the horses yet again.  Tanner knew he could rely on his skills on dirt.  He went to make a pass on the left.  The leader anticipated it and closed the door.  Tanner went around to the right, but there was a left turn coming up.  No matter.  He shifted up to fifth and showing more courage than his competitor, passed him on the outside.  Here comes the turn…80 mph…he downshifted to fourth and flat tracked the bike around the turn at high speed, shifted up to fifth and gave it all the bike would go.  The riverbed is in the middle of town, with city bridges overhead.  Spectators lined the sides and cheered from the bridges, now seeing a real race to the finish.  

Promoters built a long (safe) jump with a blow up Red Bull arch over it in the riverbed for drama. Tanner hit it at maximum speed, sailing perhaps 130 feet.  He held the throttle wide open.  Under a few more bridges, and ahead was the ramp up out of the riverbed.  He slowed for the 90 degree left turn at the top but not too much to allow 285x an opening, he blew the turn…curb…he jumped the curb while turning, now on a totally different surface, a wet concrete city street.  One block, right, two long blocks, high speed with throngs of fans lining the streets.  One more turn…

I waited at the finish, my eyes fixed; knowing the last turn was like ice.  The 285x team was there like we were – all five other riders and the crew, standing next to us.  Who will come around first? Would he slide out?  A bike came around the turn and stalled when surprised by the slippery conditions. Fans ran out of the crowd and push started the bike.  He raced to the finish.  It wasn’t Tanner…or 285x.

A minute later another bike rounds the corner.  I recognized his body.  It was Tanner!  I screamed and shook in joy!  Tanner raced the half block up to the finish, cameras and microphones waiting.  

285X rounded the corner and slid out on the slippery pavement and crashed in the street.  He got his bike picked up and came in, 60 seconds behind us!

Tanner pulled up onto the stage…a picture of the 214x on the jumbotron.  A finish line girl gave Tanner a medal and he put it around my neck.  Another around his.  My head tapped his helmet as I hugged my son.  

We had won, the Baja 1000!

Heart

(Continued…)

Tanner turned into the dirt with 285x 90 seconds behind him.  I jumped in Chase truck 2 and headed for the finish line.  Tanner was scheduled to stop at a pit for fuel two miles in.  A pit service called “Baja Pits” sets up along the course to fuel vehicles every 50 miles or so.  Our bike can only go about 75 miles on a tank of gas.  They put a sign out along the course for you to see, but sometimes these trophy truck pits set up all over the place can camouflage the Baja pits.  I missed a pit once and we had to fuel at the truck instead.  

I sat in Chase 2 wondering if Tanner would make his pit.  If he didn’t, we were done.  And would 285x pass him when he stopped at it?

Tanner did make his pit quickly, and he held the lead.  Then, another crisis.  The front headlight assembly, two 8″ round lights in a metal cage, started bouncing up and down, coming loose.  It got worse.  Tanner tried to take smooth lines, but it bounced more wildly as he progressed. Thoughts went through his mind – what to do?  He thought of stopping and ripping it off – the sky was beginning to get lighter now, but it was still dark and he needed light. He also knew that the race bike had a big stator to generate more power for the lights.  If you ran the bike without lights it would burn up the stator and the bike could stop.  

Metal parts broke off the frame and went flying.  285x was back there close.  The 17″ wide light assembly finally detached from the bike and dangled by the wire.  Tanner stopped, took his helmet, neck brace, pack and jacket off.  He had a “Tough Mudder” pullover on under his jacket. He took it off and used it to tie the lights back on the front of the bike.  285x went by.  Then a new bike, 318x (not in our class) went by. Tanner put his gear back on as fast as he could, and raced forward. 

It is often said in the sport that a rider who rides at 101% of his ability will crash a lot and his career will be short.  Tanner and I ride at 97%, and we survived to this point.  But this was the last leg of the Baja 1000.  It was time to go beyond 97%.  Tanner tapped all his skills, and power slid around dusty gravel turns in forth gear trying to catch up.  The problem now?  Dust.  318x was creating so much dust it was hard to see.  He’d mount a charge, only to have to let off and sometimes come to a near stop to be able to see.  

He mounted another charge, same result.  Another, and he was blinded by dust and the first rays of sun coming through it.  All of a sudden, bang, he was in a giant rut up a steep hill that he could not see.  He was stopped.  The rut was 18″ deep, filled with boulders.  He struggled to get out.  It took a full minute.  He remounted and continued his pursuit.

The next time 318x appeared ahead, he charged the dust again.  He broke through to get close enough where the dust coming off the wheels of the bike ahead was below his line of sight.  He stayed close, picked a moment, and flew by.  Now he could pursue 285x with a clear track until he got into his dust.  The sweatshirt holding the lights on was coming loose and the light was bouncing again.  Could he catch him?

Our plan was that Javier in Chase Truck 1 would meet Tanner at the last checkpoint at mile 782 just to check on Tanner.  We expected no problems and that Tanner would give Javier a thumbs up and keep going.  Javier waited.  

There are 95 virtual checkpoints “VCP’s” on the course.  A VCP is a 100 foot circle on a GPS map that you have to go through. You don’t see anything in the field, it’s just an electronic waypoint.  You have a transponder on the bike and they track your every move within two feet to assess penalties later. If you miss a VCP it means you went off course – most often to take a shortcut, and you’ll be assessed a 10 minute penalty.

There are seven physical checkpoints.  They are rows of orange cones that lead you into a place where you have to come to a full stop, they take your number and time, and you go.  The speed limit is 15 mph for the 200 feet before a physical checkpoint.  If you violate the speed limit, you are assessed a 30 minute penalty! If you miss a checkpoint, you are out of the race.

People around the checkpoint got excited.  They heard a bike coming.  Javier could not believe what he saw.  285x rolling into the checkpoint at 15 mph, with our 214x directly alongside him! Tanner had caught up!  After the checkpoint, Tanner rolled up to Javier with his sweatshirt around the dangling, broken, over-sized Baja light assembly. They had to change it – fast!  285x sped away on course.  90 seconds later, Tanner chased after him yet again.

Would he catch him with just 40 miles to go?

Continued tomorrow….

Night Moves 2

Continued…

I saw lights coming up behind me.  They told us when a trophy truck is approaching behind you to pull over on your own terms way ahead of time, and not wait for one to run you over.  I did and it roared by, filling the air with a dust curtain.  Your headlights on dust is a recipe for zero visibility. I kept moving forward into the night wondering if Tanner would get to our next rider change before me.  The course met the last section of the crossover road – there were tons of chase vehicles moving slow making so much dust it was hard to see.  Then it got foggy.  It went on forever.

I emerged at the pit, got fuel, and 100 feet farther who do I see?  Chad – our second driver.  I turned my head and was relieved to see Tanner!  He made it!  The plan we for me to go 60 miles more. Chad checked the bike over, we changed the air filter, and I was gone.  Tanner jumped in chase truck two and headed to the next rider change spot.

We fueled again and Tanner jumped on.  We found out via radio that #266x was out of the race – their bike had a mechanical failure.  We were in third place now.  There is a system where you can text a race number to and it tells you where the racer is and how fast they are going.  But in the south we had no service to text.  We communicated by satellite phone back to team base who was monitoring the internet, and my wife Wendy stayed up all night and gave helpful updates when we had service.

Now we were headed north back towards Ensenada.  Tanner had a 41 mile leg of whoops.  Not just any whoops.  Three foot deep whoops – never ending for 35 miles.  If you are a dirt bike rider, this is your Kilimanjaro.  It was very tough.  Chad got me to the next rider change area and I only waited ten minutes and Tanner came in.  I got on and sped away for a 24 mile section of – that’s right, never ending sand whoops.  Whoops are waves in the sand created by wheel action. Very tough. They seemed to never end. I handed the bike off to Tanner for a 60 mile section and he disappeared into the desert night once again.

We waited at a road crossing for him to emerge.  A headlight came through the whoops.  Was it him?  The bike popped out onto the road in front of us.  It was 285x, the leader.  The next light came.  Was it Tanner?  It was 202x, 12 minutes behind 285x.  How far back was Tanner?  We were 45 minutes behind when we had to change the front brake at mile 480.  Here comes another light. It was him – 7 minutes behind 202x and 19 minutes behind the leader!

I hugged Tanner and sped off.  I passed 202x just before the pit.  Now we were in second.  I got gas at the next pit and turned off the road up a rock face called “Goat Trail”.  More whoops at high elevation.  It was cold now, 48 degrees at 4 am.  I sped passed Kurt Caselli’s marker, the leader in this race in 2013 who hit a horse and died.

After 60 miles I came out to the road, but it wasn’t the road crossing I saw during pre-running.  I was confused for a moment.  Did they change the course at the last minute or was I lost? I swiveled my head and saw my team.  Chase truck 1 had caught up and both trucks were there. Tanner had his helmet on ready to go.  Who was across the road pitting?  285x!  We tried to be quiet to not alert the 285X team who was 60 feet away, that we were their competition and on them now.  (They could have thought we were in another class.  It was still very dark at about 5 am.  We hurried and checked the bike over, and Tanner got on for his last leg – 80 miles into the finish into Ensenada.  Tanner sped away.  The 285x team realized it was us, and got their rider out of the pit 90 seconds after Tanner.

We were in first place.  That’s when the most epic battle of any race ever, began.

To Be Continued…

Night Moves

(Continued from yesterday)

As we saw a light approach, we said “surely this must be Tanner”.  It wasn’t.  Then a trophy truck came by at 80 mph – scary.  Then two more.  They must have passed Tanner.  When you see a trophy truck in action, you have no choice but to be in awe of what these 850 hp machines do out there, and you respect it.  When you are on a dirt bike and one comes roaring up behind you in the night, and you are on a road where you can’t just pull off anywhere, it’s dangerous and scary.  Last year a bike rider was hit by one.

We wondered what happened.  During pre-running we got caught at nightfall on a section where we rode to higher elevation and the temperature dropped quick – to 45 degrees, and we both had only jerseys on.  We got so cold we had to stop and jump around.  Tanner was shaking from the cold.  Did that happen to him now? Waiting, I had three layers on and was ready to jump on the bike – Tanner had a thin jersey out there. Did he have hypothermia?

Finally…a light approaches – it was him!  Nearly five hours since we saw him last.  Something was wrong. Picture this – he had his jersey on, a hydration pack, neck brace and helmet, but no sleeves on his jersey!  I thought he crashed in the cactus and ripped his sleeve off – but both of them??

202x went by.  (Any bike with three digits starting with 2 is in our class). 40 miles earlier Tanner hit a rock and the front wheel bounced off and hit another rock and broke the front brake caliper off – it dangled from the brake line getting tangled up in the wheel.  He tried to tie it up – but with what?  He tried to get string out of an agave plant, but it was very tough and he didn’t have tools.  What did he do? That’s right, no choice – tear his jersey sleeves off and tie the caliper to the top of the fork out of the way of the wheel.  He nursed it back 30 miles to us with no front brake at 1/3 race speed.

Javier went into action.  He took the front brake assembly off the pre-run bike we had in the van and put it on the race bike (you can’t change bikes in this race). The locals, race fans whom we made friends with were eager to help in any way. More trophy trucks and quads and bikes went by.

In 15 minutes Javier had it fixed. I took off into the black on a section I had never seen before because we did not pre-run it. I was worried about trophy trucks – they were coming through now.

We lost about 2 1/2 hours, and we were in fourth place. In front of us – 266x (6 man team), 285x (6 man team), and 202x (3 man team).  It was 10 pm and we were at mile 470 of an 822 mile race.

Next problem – There are two paved roads on the Baja peninsula going south – Rt. 1 along the Pacific coast, and Rt. 5 along the Sea of Cortez coast.  They don’t touch each other, and the race course goes down the Rt. 1 side and up the Rt. 5 side.  Most teams would switch riders at the bottom, and the first rider would ride in a truck back 7 hours to the finish to meet their teammates. But we were a two man team and we each had to ride on each side of the course as we planned to take 6 turns each.  Each leg was planned exactly – for its terrain and length.

So we had two chase trucks – our second driver/mechanic, Chad, was waiting on Rt. 5 for us all day. Our plan was to get Tanner there via a dirt crossover road on the extra bike we had in truck one. So Tanner had this five hour ordeal on a 122 mile tough section, rolls in with no sleeves, has to jump in truck one, drive up the paved road fifteen minutes, unload the spare bike, and speed 45 minutes to meet truck two before I got there – with no front brake (the most important one).

Truck one would also go on the crossover road, but there are rocks and it would have to go slow, and never make it there before me with Tanner.  A bike could go four times the speed of the truck. But the pre-run bike now had no front brake. Could he get to chase truck two and the rider change spot before I did?

Cont. tomorrow…

"To Finish First, You First Must Finish"

This week I will depart from our normal format, and tell you about what happened at the Baja 1000 race – the longest and most difficult dirt bike race in the world – 822 miles non-stop.  This is the short version of our story.

What started as a quest to finish the longest most grueling race in the world, turned into a 25 hour chase to win it.  We woke up at 4 am to get ready.  I started the race at 6:35 am, the sixth bike out of ten in our class, and ran the first 80 miles without any mistakes. I was happy with a very strong start.  I turned the bike over to Tanner in Santo Tomas, in third place.  He ran the next 120 miles really fast, and emerged in Santa Maria in second place.  He passed five bikes and two quads, but only one bike was in our class. The lead team in our class, #266, had 6 riders on the team, and they had won last year.

I ran my second leg, and in a tight technical wash section got passed by a guy who I had passed earlier.  I took him back in the sand whoops and never saw him again.  I turned the bike over to Tanner in El Rosario at mile 250.  Going strong, it’s hot out now.

Our GPS was not working, and we were relying on sketchy course marker signs and a worn trail, but there are many intersections of worn roads, and trails and the course takes you up rocks faces, loose rocks, goat trails, and through the tumbleweeds, brush and trees.  In places you can only make 20 mph, and other places the bike is tapped out in fifth gear at 98 mph and you are tucked in from the wind.

When Tanner energed we changed out the GPS, I got on, and ran a section I was dreading – long loose rocks.  All to plan – so far.  We changed the rear wheel, air filter, and mounted the two giant round lights in front and I watched Tanner stop at the nearby pit for fuel and disappear down a 100 mph sand road.  He had a tough 122 miles to go, with rocks, silt and cactus. He had just a jersey on – no jacket. It would get dark and cold on his run – I said a prayer.

Big problem – the chase truck was low on fuel.  The last gas station in El Rosario had a line a mile long – all chase vehicles – and we couldn’t stop or we would miss our rider change.  Now we were in the middle of nowhere in trouble. There were no more gas stations south.  Javier, our driver and mechanic got on the radio speaking Spanish talking to some guys with local knowledge. We found a stand “Gasolina” painted on a board.  We stopped – nobody there.  We found a local and Javier talked to him.  At the next trailer a lady was selling gas out of jugs.  Any price – problem solved. On to meet Tanner.  

We waited at mile 470 for him in the night.  We waited, and waited.  The locals camped along the course with about 8 campfires going.  We had our van with the headlights on illuminating the 214X sign he would look for. It was four hours.  We expected him any moment.  No Tanner.  A new competitor came by 285x.  We knew something was wrong.  If 285x was unable to pass either of us for 400 miles, how did he get by Tanner?

We waited in the inky black night, 4 1/2 hours, no Tanner.

To be continued…

Dust to Glory

The bell tolls for us. The Baja 1000.

Today, my son Tanner and I compete in the Baja 1000 – the longest non-stop cross country race in the world.  The course is laid out on the Baja peninsula in Mexico at 840 miles this year.  There are dirt bikes, dune buggies, ATV’s, etc. and 94 trophy trucks this year. We are in the Sportsman class.  You can have as many guys on your team as you want.  There are seven teams in our class, with an average of four or five riders per team.  Tanner and I are a team of two – purposely only us – father and son.  We are at a disadvantage because the other teams can do a 3 1/2 hour “sprint” and they are done as they hand the bike off to the next rider.

There are dirt roads, sand roads, some straight sections and some curvy ones, loose rock sections, up mountain roads with switchbacks, rain ruts and washes (dried riverbeds with soft sand and rocks) and sand whoop (up and down waves 3′ deep) sections including one that is 25 miles long! There are nasty cacti right alongside of the course waiting to punch needles in your arm at 50 mph.  There are boulders and rocks all over the place.  The dust from any vehicle is brutal.  Trying to pass is very difficult because the closer you get, the more dust you are in and you can’t see your line.  There are silt sections – like baby powder a foot deep that sucks you in and spews fine dust that blinds anyone behind you, and you if you stop – don’t stop or you will get stuck, disappear in dust, and maybe get run over.

We hope to average 43 miles per hour including gas stops, pits, and tight sections.  In some areas we may hit close to 100 miles per hour.  We are riding a Honda 450X modified for this race.

This is how it works.  At dawn they start letting bikes go every 30 seconds.  (The trophy trucks are let go three hours later.)  I’ll start and go 80 miles.  Where the course crosses a paved road, we meet the first chase truck and I get off and Tanner gets on.  He goes 120 miles to the next road crossing.  The chase truck gets me there before he does, and I go again.  We take 6 turns each in total.  There are gas pits every 50 miles.  

The course is loosely marked with signs, but you can’t rely on them – you have a GPS.  Some signs are knocked down, blown over, or run over.  The locals can mess with the racers and move the signs sometimes.  There are 7 actual checkpoints where you come to a full stop and they take your number and time.  If you miss one, you are disqualified. There are dozens of “virtual checkpoints” – a 100 foot invisible circle (waypoint) that you have to ride through.  They track you by GPS.  If you miss a VCP they dock your time (10 minutes).

The same bike has to start and finish.  If you crash and break the bike and can’t get to your chase truck and mechanic for repairs, you’re out.  If you get hurt, and can’t go on, if you can get your bike to your teammate, they have to finish by themselves.  If you can’t, you’re out and you will spend the night in the desert – no other racer will throw their race away to stop and help you unless you aren’t moving.

Halfway through the race it gets dark – you are riding by headlights at race speed in the rough terrain.  You have to follow your GPS.  850 hp trophy trucks come up on your butt; you have to pull over and let them by so you don’t get run over, (they can go up to 140 mph), wait for the dust to settle and keep going.

What matters in Baja, is what you do when you can’t do anymore.

We are ready.  Let’s go.

Competition makes you better

Q #1 – “Dad, let’s ride 840 miles non-stop in the desert.  What do you say?”

A #1 – “Yeah right…(laughs). You’re crazy!”

Q #2 – “Dad, there’s this race, the longest, toughest in the world, 840 miles in the desert this year non-stop, there’s other teams competing, and only half of them even finish.  Wanna do it?”

A #2 – “Let’s do it!”

The very existence of competition, other people in the game, makes you try things and increase your performance.

What game are you in and who are you competing against? 

Moderation is boring

We’ve all heard “all things in moderation”.  Sure, for most things, this sounds right.  But you should have some area of your life where you throw moderation out the window and go all out.

“To enjoy the flavor of life, take big bites. Moderation is for monks.” – Robert Heinlein

Prepare to win

What big goal are you chasing?  What would a person who accomplished that goal know?  Learn it now.

What would they do?  Do it now.  

What would their attitude be?  Take that attitude now.  

What equipment/systems would they have and use? Get them and use them now.  

What advisors would they learn from?  Find them and talk to them often starting now.

Are you prepared to accomplish the goal you say you want to accomplish?