Why I run

I was proud to run another half marathon over the weekend: the Royal Parks Half in London.

Seeing the city I love from the viewpoint of running the streets on a race day is wonderful: no cars, no trucks, no buses.

Instead, the roads are filled with people pushing themselves mentally and physically, and crowds of people — parents, children, friends, and strangers cheering you on.

How I got into running

As I ran around I thought to myself about my journey as a runner.

How did I go from avoiding running at all costs, to running a marathon?

I never used to like running.

At school I hated running.

I would always set off too fast and wear myself out.

I’d try to do anything possible to get out of running: volunteer to be a timekeeper, pretend to be a little unwell, or switch to another sport entirely!

As school finished, I started to change my attitude to running. I learned to pace myself, I started to measure my progress with apps and then my watch, and I embraced the sense of achievement when completing a run.

I became increasingly addicted to measuring my progress. For better or for worse, once I got an Apple Watch, I simply had to complete my Fitness Rings. Running became a great way to keep my streak going and give me a sense of achievement week-in, week-out.

I then came across Parkrun, a series of wonderful volunteer-led runs that happen every Saturday in parks across the U.K. and around the world.

I started to realise: the more I ran, the faster I became. And the faster I ran, the better I felt.

What I have learned from running

There are so many aspects of running that I find to be applicable to other parts of life.

Measurement leads to improvement

When you measure something it helps you understand it better, which forms a basis to improve it.

Just do it

The first draft (or run) is always rubbish. No one starts out as a pro. But to become a pro, you must start. Whatever it is you want to achieve, you have to just start.

Consistency is key

Once you start something, you are rarely any good at it for a while. You must keep going. You must repeat. You will still fail many times, but you pick yourself up and you go again. Consistency is boring, but crucial for running, fitness, any most positive changes in life.

Unexpected rewards for effort

Running longer distances has enabled me to run faster. Often improving in one area can lead to unexpected improvements in other areas.

Don’t compare with others

I don’t run to be faster than anyone else. I find it can help to run with other people for encouragement, and healthy competition. But I am always running my own race: to do the best I can. If I do that then I will always be proud.

Make it easy to

The joy of creation

Lately I have been conflicted in where I spend my time.

I love creating things. But I also love building a team, leading, marketing, and selling.

There have been patches of time where I have done very little creation, and in those periods I realise I quickly become demoralised.

I find joy in creation.

For as long as I can remember, I have been in awe of the idea that anyone can grab a computer, connect it to the internet, and build something. And that someone else on the other side of the world can then utilise and benefit from that thing.

Anyone can create something of value, and you don't need to ask anyone else for permission.

Creating vs publishing

I don't just like creating, I like publishing.

Don't get me wrong, publishing can induce immense fear.

But I get a kick out of directly creating something and then putting it live.

Getting feedback is addictive — whether it's seeing usage, receiving comments, or simply knowing "it's out there".

I sense that the act of creating is never complete, but publishing (or shipping) is a marker to say: I've completed the first step.

"Publishing" can mean anything here — deploying to production, putting a blog post live, hitting send on a Tweet or Thread, or even just writing an idea down and sharing it with your team.

The critical benefit of "publishing" is that you not only get to call your work "done" for now, you get to receive at least a little feedback: did anyone care?

Speed vs perfection

There's a study I read a while back in the book Art and Fear that summarises the dichotomy of aiming for perfection:

The ceramics teacher announced on opening day that he was dividing the class into two groups. All those on the left side of the studio, he said, would be graded solely on the quantity of work they produced, all those on the right solely on its quality.

His procedure was simple: on the final day of class he would bring in his bathroom scales and weigh the work of the “quantity” group: fifty pound of pots rated an “A”, forty pounds a “B”, and so on. Those being graded on “quality”, however, needed to produce only one pot – albeit a perfect one – to get an “A”.

Well, came grading time and a curious fact emerged: the works of highest quality were all produced by the group being graded for quantity. It seems that while the “quantity” group was busily churning out piles of work – and learning from their mistakes – the “quality” group had sat theorizing about perfection, and in the end had little more to show for their efforts than grandiose theories and a pile of dead clay.

Ever since I read this, it changed my views on perfection.

"Quick and scrappy" is often viewed as "not the proper way". The proper way is to do X and Y and Z in a specific order.

In reality,

Where do you find inspiration to write?

Every so often, I feel at a loss when trying to figure out what to write about.

I frequently feel uninspired and lacking in ideas, so I will go weeks, possibly months without writing.

But there’s a great source of material I haven’t turned to enough: questions.

Whenever I speak at an event, or meet another founder, or really, anyone, I’m usually thrown a question of some sort.

I’ve started to note these questions down, as they’re the perfect starting point for topics to write about.

I’ve found that writing answers to questions I’ve been asked has three valuable advantages:

1. Writing addresses my frustration

If I had more time, I’d have written a shorter letter. — Blaise Pascal

When I’m asked a question, typically I must think on my feet.

Occasionally, that works OK. But sometimes, about 2 minutes after I’ve answered the question, I’ll realise I had something better to say on the topic.

There’s no rewind, or “edit” button for live conversation.

It can be incredibly frustrating!

By retrospectively writing an answer to questions I’m asked, I can address my frustration by giving a better answer.

2. Writing helps form better answers

I find writing to be a fantastic way to clarify my thoughts.

It forces me to consider something on a deeper level. The act of writing can crystallise a topic for me.

It’s correlated to the way I like to learn: if I must teach someone about something, it will absolutely force me to learn more about that thing.

I’ve often found that teaching others is the best way to teach myself, but it always feels like cheating!

3. Writing multiplies my impact

I’d like to think another benefit of turning these questions into written articles shared here, is that I can be more helpful to you, the reader of this blog.

When I have a chat with a friend, or when I am fortunate enough to speak at an event, I often think “gosh I wish that was recorded, the conversation could have been very helpful for more people.”

A wonderful thing about writing is it tends to last a lot longer than audio or video. It’s easier to find via search, and can more easily be edited to bring it up to date.

Some questions I have written answers to

Some questions I need to write answers to

Why are you building an email marketing tool, when it’s one of the most crowded markets you could possibly enter?
What’s driving you after so many years to keep doing GoSquared?
How have your values influenced your decisions and lifestyle recently?
What advice do you have for someone starting out on their own startup journey?

Do you have a question for me? Please

The crippling fear of hitting “publish”

“I am always doing that which I cannot do, in order that I may learn how to do it.” — Pablo Picasso

I’ve been feeling it increasingly — I’ll put a tweet together, a short article, maybe even a visual piece of work. I’ll be feeling pretty good about it, and then the time comes to hit “publish”…

That’s when the fear creeps in. What if this is rubbish? Is this going to offend someone? Will it be misunderstood? Will people judge me for it?

It’s been enough to make me undo all my work and not hit publish on countless occasions.

I know I’m not alone on this — even the best feel it to some degree whenever they’re about to publish their work.

I keep trying to tell myself, though: don’t let it stop you.

Usually, the worst thing that happens is no one cares. Everyone looks the other way and gets on with their lives.

No one cares as much about you and your work as you do.

With that in mind, I urge you (and my future self) to overcome that fear next time by hitting publish. It’s the fastest, most effective way to learn, iterate, and improve.

Jump in at the deep end

I was in central London doing some last minute shopping today, and I debated getting the Tube back with all my bags, or being lazy and jumping in an Uber.

It's been a knackering week, so I opted for the Uber.

But I'm so glad I made this choice – I ended up having an extensive chat with the driver who had moved here from India to become an IT consultant.

He's a freelancer so is keen to get more work, hence why he's driving for Uber on the side. Naturally, we got onto the subject of building a personal "brand" – or at least, finding ways to get people to notice you.

We were talking about starting a blog and how he's not written in a long time. I could hear him finding reasons to hold off on writing – he wasn't ready.

But I hear this all the time – "I'm not ready". When will you be ready? How will you ever be ready?

You will never be ready unless you start.

So I started pushing him to just write. Just Do It!

You have to just start, with the knowledge your first attempt will probably suck.

Then he told me a story that really resonated with me: he explained how when he lived in India he desperately wanted to learn to swim.

The pool was deep at the deep end – 16 feet deep! Because it had a diving board.

He would walk around and walk around and become increasingly nervous, just staring at the depths of the water.

He'd stand back and watch as others swam up and down, growing more and more frustrated.

Until one day he jumped in (at the shallow end), and just started to try.

He kept trying and gradually swimming further and further from the edges until he could fully swim.

This simple story just emphasises so much of what holds us back from doing new things – fear. And that fear leads us to push back the idea of even starting.

You can’t learn to swim unless you jump in and try.

Whatever you're hoping to start in the new year – don't wait. Just start. Jump in.

Photo by Artem Verbo on Unsplash.

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