Nobody gives you power, you just take it.

You take it by being responsible and trustworthy and of good character.

You take it by developing your talents and using them in service to others.

You take power by solving problems and helping other people in a significant way.

You take it by stepping up – for you and for others.

Nobody gives you power, you just take it.

You can't call "no fair"

Doing difficult things teaches you something.  In Baja for example, you can’t say “this is too hard” and give up.  You are 80 miles from the nearest town, and if you stay there you will die.

In life, you can’t call “no fair”.  If you do, you are blaming others and making an excuse.

You don’t have to call “no fair” anyway.  Life is not fair – for anyone.  You have to play the hand you were dealt.  After age 18, you are responsible for what happens.  

We are all lucky to live in this age.  It is no fair. 

It’s skewed heavily in your favor.

Who is in charge of your life?

I’ll give you a hint.  Nobody else.

“As one goes through life one learns that if you don’t paddle your own canoe, you don’t move.” – Katherine Hepburn

Develop your strengths

In school, we have to pass each class.  Most people will do well in some and struggle in others.  We may learn a lesson that is not a good one to learn – that we aren’t a good student because we have weaknesses, and that we should spend our time fixing them.

But we should not spend our lives trying to fix our weaknesses, but rather develop our strengths.  We should get jobs where our strength is valued and grow our talents, and let others fill in for our weaknesses.

Often when someone has very strong talents, they can be quite inept at other things.  That’s ok.  

Better to develop your strengths than to try to fix your weaknesses in vain forever.

Of course, if our weaknesses are ones that are holding us back, then we should shore them up enough so they don’t hurt us.

What are your strengths?  Have you been focusing on them?

(This advice is for individuals.  Businesses will rise to the height of their key weaknesses such as sales, marketing, operations, finance, etc. so fixing weaknesses in businesses is important.)

Imagination – part 2

If someone sees you sitting still in your office staring at nothing, you could be dozing or you could be using a tool that will transform your business or life in a profound way; your imagination.

Imagination takes us out of what is and into a realm of what could be.  It is the preview of coming attractions.  It is the first tool to use on a creative journey.  

Using your imagination to try out different scenarios takes a lot less time and is less expensive than actually trying each alternative.  It can leapfrog you results way ahead of where you are now.  It can be fun, and stimulating.  

“To imagine the unimaginable is the highest use of the imagination.” – Cynthia Ozick

Using your imagination makes new things possible for you.  Because if you don’t think a thing first, you cannot do it.  All action is preceded by thought, and thinking things that don’t exist yet or haven’t happened yet is to imagine.

How would you rate your use of your own imagination in your life?

What problems do you need to solve?  What adventures could call? 

What should you imagine now?

Imagination

To bring about something in your life that is not there yet, you need to use your imagination first.  Just this initial act takes courage and belief that you can manifest something that is invisible.  If you don’t believe it’s possible, you won’t spend time thinking about it.

Imagination can be stimulated by stories or seeing what others have done, showing you it’s possible.  This is why I like to live in a world where others are doing better or different than me.

“The world is but a canvas to our imaginations.” Henry David Thoreau

What can you imagine that you can do, be or have?

Life will never be the quite the same.

Victor and Tony arrived at mile 1100.  As Marie and I got in for the last 170 miles, the team checked the car out.  No new problems, but the paper towel/duct tape/zip tie cacoon was fraying and coming apart.  Todd wrapped a washcloth around it and zip-tied it again.  We were off.  It had to last.

First, there were 40 miles of sand whoops – up and down and up and down went our little race car, and I tried not to push it and break the suspension.  

Francisco Arredondo, last year’s winner had broken his hub.  I heard they fixed it after waiting 2 1/2 hours for help but then broke the car again.  We were in fourth place out of 12 in our class, but third was two hours ahead; unless they had a problem, we weren’t catching them.  It made it easy not to worry about them.  We stuck to our plan – don’t race – just finish.  

Other cars in our class were out of the race.  Champion Kristen Matlock, who passed me at mile 20, had broken down, got it fixed and several hours later broke down again.  She was way back but she was moving now.  Tanner told me by text from home that she was catching up and “on the move”.  I babied the car while trying to make miles as fast and smoothly as I could.  I didn’t want to break anything now!

The last section, normally fairly fast, was chewed up far worse than in pre-running.  Marie and I were getting bounced around.  Our necks hurt and our kidneys.  Yes, kidneys, from being strapped tight to a bouncing car for 16 hours.  My sleep deprivation was kicking.  We had started the race 33 hours ago and were awake 6 hours before that.  I actually woke up at midnight before the race and my mind started going and I didn’t sleep much after that.  I had one hour of sleep in the chase truck in the last 48 hours.  

We cut the darkness and forged ahead.  Suddenly we’d see deep ruts with the unmistakable texture of silt.  Silt is the worst condition in Baja.  It’s best described as ultralight dust that acts like water – it yields and “splashes” up into the air..  It can be feet deep.  It swallows even trophy trucks.  If the silt is up to your belly pan it takes the weight off your wheels and you are stuck.  

Going around it is the best option, but often it’s not an option.  I have no time to turn and avoid it, there are no optional routes.  Step on the gas and get as much momentum as you can going in.  The silt leaps into the air blinding us, over the roof, filling every cubic inch of space around and in the car (there is no windshield).  Can’t see a thing – even your own high-powered lights in front.  It’s against your instinct to keep the gas pedal down when you can’t see – but that is exactly what you have to do.  The ruts keep you on course like a slot car.

We made it. Over and over again, as did Todd, Kevin, Tony and Victor at other locations on the course.

There is an epic section called “the Waterfall” on the course.  There is no water involved.  It’s a steep downhill with 4-foot rock ledge drop-offs in it.  When you are on it you know there are about 20 miles to go to the finish.  I kept telling Marie about it and thought it had begun twice when it hadn’t.  it was dark and things look different at night.  But finally, we were on it.  It was unmistakable.

Halfway down, lights bobbed up and down the horizon in front of us.  Was it Kristen Matlock catching up behind us?  I stopped babying the car so much and drove more aggressively to stay ahead.  I have to say, both Marie and I were excited to be “racing” now.  In six more miles, I popped out onto the city road that led into the center of LaPaz.  Flagmen signaled it was safe to come out of the dirt onto the road without looking left and checking for traffic.

It was a 60 mph speed zone but there was local traffic and going 60 was a risk.  I tried.  A few miles to go and there was one big problem – I didn’t know where I was going!  I had not pre-run the last four miles of pavement into the finish. 

Early in the race, at mile 50 I lost my GPS line on the screen.  It turns out the whole course was not loaded into our GPS.  So I drove by memory and the course marker signs for 140 miles. At mile 200 the team took the chip out of the pre-run car and put it into the race car.  But we didn’t have time to go into the menus and change the color of the race line – it defaulted to a black line.  That’s fine when you are in the middle of nowhere – follow the black line.  But in a city, all the streets appeared on the screen and they were black too!  I could not tell by the GPS where the course was!

We sped down the main road looking for a sign, any indication of where to go.  Ahead were cones.  Go left?  Right?  At the last minute as we approached at 55 mph, two policemen looked up and ran to move two cones.  I guessed that race traffic was to go through them.  I darted by looking for the next indication, knowing a race vehicle was on our butt.

Two blocks later I see a flagman – I turn left, then right through a fence.  They had a little dirt track section for drama set up before the finish line for the fans, and I spewed as much dust into the air as I could for effect.  Last turn, checkered flags ahead.  We rolled up onto the podium, lit up in the night. 

Success!

The rest of our team was there waiting and cheering.  We had done it.  Finished the Baja 1000! 1226 miles on four wheels in our first attempt!  Fourth out of 12.  35 hours.  They interviewed us on the podium.  It was a moment we’ll never forget.  

The next day, after a very necessary night’s sleep, we went out for breakfast.  It took 12 hours and included coffee, water, tequila, beer, great seafood, fish tacos, and exciting stories shared.  

Audacious ideas can be crazy.  Not everything I’ve done has worked out.  But if you work smart together, communicate, plan and execute, crazy ideas can be crazy good.

Goal achieved.  Memories made. 

Life will never be quite the same.

"Baja Fab" (Fabrication)

All great adventures start as audacious.  A little crazy.  Maybe a lot crazy. 

Sometimes they prove to actually be crazy.  Unrealistic.  Stupid.  Bad ideas.  Other times….

We had assembled a team of Contractor Nation friends to do this.  The longest point-to-point race on earth.  Marie and I were in the car for a 110-mile leg to mile 1000.  We were all tired.  Ragged even.    But more miles were behind us than we had to go, and an optimism grew in us for finishing.

We went through a tiny town of San Javier where a Spanish Mission church, hundreds of years old was the center of the town.  The only road through town was paved with round cobblestones from the nearby riverbed.  Charming.  But the trophy trucks had torn it up as they made a turn and the round stones were strewn across the street.  A shame, but the people there seemed to be excited the race came through their tiny town and not worried about their romantic street that was torn up.  

We crossed the same riverbed six times; it was as captive as we were in the confines of a canyon.  The course got straight and fast as we sped toward the gas pit at mile 1000.  

When we arrived and were being fueled, some guys did a walk around of our car.  They told me a CV joint boot was ripped open in the back and grease had been flung over the engine.  I thanked them and pulled 200 feet ahead to our chase truck. 

Fans were gathered there in the town of Constitucion.  When we preran we gave stickers out here.  People took days off work just to catch a glimpse of any race vehicle prerunning.  They recognized me from our movies.  Victor had an 8-year-old kid sit in the car for the thrill of his year, as his father took pictures.  

I told Rodrigo, one of our crew, about the torn boot.  In the back where the spinning axle comes out of the rear end, there is a universal joint.  As the wheel goes up and down and spins the joint needs grease so it doesn’t self-destruct.  Now dirt and abrasive silt was getting in and grease was getting out because the rubber boot was torn open.  Could we make it to the finish this way?  226 miles to go.

Rod and another Mexican buggy team spoke about it as they looked it over.  They hatched a plan.  I couldn’t understand Spanish so I watched.  First, they produced a tub of grease.  Rod scooped three big handfuls and smeared it inside the torn boot.  Victor and Tony strapped in inside the car and waited.

Then they took blue paper shop towels, like heavy paper towels and wrapped them around the boot.  I was thinking “there is no way this will work…what the heck are they doing?”.  Then they took duct tape and wrapped strips around the shop towels.  My doubts persisted.  Then they took zip ties and ran them around the duct tape.  It was a cocoon to hold the grease in and keep grit out.  Would it get us to the finish?  We’d find out.

Victor an Tony got the signal – go!  The rest of the team drove to mile 1100 to meet them again in about three hours.  Marie and I ate and got ready for our longest leg of the race – the 170 miles into the finish.

We were grateful for the help from the other team, hoping there was a chance it would work.  I had my doubts.

The next stop had the course coming out to a road after a sand whoop section (rolling waves formed in the sand) that was over 20 miles long.  There were many chase teams there, waiting as darkness settled in.

One more leg – a long one….

Miles behind us…

We waited for Todd and Kevin at mile 890.  The motorcycles started 9 hours before us.  I knew we’d catch up to Ironmen who were struggling at some point.  One came into his truck right in front of us.  It was Darrin Rideout (what a name for a motorcycle rider!).  He was from Ottawa.  46 years old.  His wrist was sprained and black and blue.  His knee was black and blue too.  His lip was swollen and had been bleeding.  

I ran up to him to encourage him.  He couldn’t believe I was there.  My movies had inspired him to come race here, like so many others.  On race week, people know me by sight in Baja.  He perked up and I told him the next 40 miles was the worst part of the whole course.  Just take it one mile at a time and get through it.  Economize – the most speed for the least energy for the terrain he was on.  Once this is over, there’s lots of easier terrain coming.

He was visibly buoyed by my encouragement.  He wanted to take a picture with me.  I was inspired by him.  Seeing an Ironman in this race 890 miles in, spent, in horrible race conditions, and the will to keep going like that – it makes you feel like you’ve got no problems at all.  So inspiring.  

Another ironman went by.  Methodical and beat down.  “Go man. You got this!”

When Kevin and Todd got here, Kevin jumped out of the driver seat and I got in.  Todd stayed in the co-drivers seat.  These next 40 miles were horrible.  The worst part of Baja by far.  Terrain you wouldn’t want to walk.  Deep silt ruts, rocky river beds, and the rockiest choppiest steepest hill climbs with off-camber blind turns at the top – it was not for sissies.  It was to challenge souls.

When we got to Loreto, Todd, who had been in the car for seven hours, was happy to get out.  My kidneys were sore from bouncing and banging up and down and my neck was feeling it too.  Marie got in and we took off.  Two nasty steep hill climbs and 15 minutes later we popped out onto a scenic road with high switchbacks with incredible views of the mountains and Sea of Cortez.  Relief – for now.  God is good.

It was late in the day, and the sun turned and started heading for China.  Darkness was coming again.

Teamwork

When you want to accomplish a task with a team, you have to plan.  We pre ran the course and made our plan.  We adjusted, talked a lot, went over it many times, and had contingency plans if something went wrong.  We knew what our goal was, and what it was not.  We talked about not getting sucked into racing anyone in the excitement of the race, and to stick to our plan – just finish.

Todd and Kevin completely 100 miles and got the car to Victor and Tony.  They completely 100 miles and got the car back to Todd and Kevin.  Marie and I would wait 14 hours from the end of our first turn to the beginning of our second one. 

I was a Baja veteran and had to most experience racing.  Victor was a tour guide and knew the terrain well too.  Kevin, Todd and Marie had experience chasing, but not racing here.  Tony was new to Baja.  You have to use your teams strengths.  I had planned to drive the worst, roughest parts of the course.  

I usually race Ironman and I’m on a bike the whole time.  Being in the chase vehicles was interesting.  Get to the next location (fighting traffic through little towns where the main highway is the only paved road) and wait.  It’s not easy as the hours and days go by and you’re becoming sleep deprived.

You watch other race vehicles go by.  You see dust coming wondering if that’s your team coming.  No.  Nope.  YES!  It them!  Everyone is ready.   New driver and codriver are dressed and waiting.  Two chase team embers unhook the team in the car so they can get out.  Others clean the lights and check the tires and suspension.  New team gets in and get help hooking everything up.  When all looks good, we give the go signal and the driver, who can’t turn their head to see if anyone is coming, steps on the gas, and disappears into their own dust.

It’s pretty cool.

We’d change out drivers ten times, and co-drivers 12 times.  Just as planned.

I jumped in with Marie for the 70 miles before SanIgnacio – very deep and steep sand whoops followed by a very steep rocky hill climb.  This is where I fell into a cactus in the black night one year.  No worry about that now.  (Who is boss now Mr. Cactus!)  This time it was daytime and hot.  We got the car to a military checkpoint where we planned on switching. Todd and Kevin got in again.

An 11-year-old kid was selling coffee in front a lone abandoned building.  I gave him the few pesos and a five-dollar tip.  Timing is everything.

Todd and Kevin had 170 miles to go including a river crossing and some significant rocks to deal with.  We had outfitted our car with an extra-large 30-gallon gas tank so we had an advantage over many in our class.  Still, 170 miles was a lot.  If they missed the gas pit, we’d be in big trouble.

We started the race at 11:30 am.  It got dark.  Now it was light again.

Almost halfway there….