I don’t have a 7 year horizon. Yet.

Also inspired by Valeria Maltoni’s Learning Habit newsletter. Check it out.

I love the thinking behind a seven year horizon. It’s less than an arbitrary decade, but longer term than most. Compromise, and yet not.

In June, I was let go from LeadMD. They’re a tribe of fierce robots hell-bent on delivering results to customers. LeadMD was founded in 2009.

I started GBXM in 2009.

My friend Adnan runs CarThrottle.com. He started that in 2009 as well. (Gave me the ground floor opportunity in 2010, too, but I passed because GBXM.) He now has millions of subscribers and offices in London and New York.

GBXM never went anywhere.

More and more, I think the lesson learned is compromise has its place, but not when it comes to delivering value.

In any case, I’m in the process of rebooting GBXM. Again.

I don’t have a seven year plan. I don’t even have a three year plan.

It’s just the thing I feel like I need to do right now.

Where will I be in seven years? When GBXM turns 15?

I don’t know, but there’s only one way to find out.


The Bold & The Dutiful

I want to be bold. Confident. Resolute.

I want to do this my way. Again.

I want to disrupt. Again.

But which rules should be broken?

What advice willfully ignored?

Can it be done this time?

Word of mouth, advocacy, promotion.

That’s all I need, right?

A rally cry that resonates.

That inspires the tribe.

That spreads like wildfire.

Stop cherry picking best practices.

Double down, all-in on the one thing.

Put them first.

Help them win.

Celebrate their wins.

Soothe their losses.

Make them kings.



Breathe & stop. Keep your cool. (Bonus track)

I’ve developed a real bitterness toward working on cars in recent years.

It often feels like my vehicles fight me every step of the way. I wonder how much of that is my own damn fault? You know, self-fulfilling prophecy and whatnot.

Wednesday night, after P went to bed, I had to go back out to the driveway and replace filthy, 19-year old heater hoses on Fezzik. It’s not a hard job, but because these are always wedged between the back of the engine and the firewall, it’s almost always a pain in the ass.

Instead of bitching and moaning about it, I told myself to just slow down, breathe, and get it done.

I removed the hood and cruise control box for maximum headroom and comfort. (It was still 107°F/42°C out at 9PM.) I refused to get mad when I dropped that damned hose clamp bolt four times during reassembly.

Whattayaknow. Everything came apart and went back together without a hitch.

The culprit: small hole worn by OE hose clamp on 19-year old OE hose.

I’m gonna try this approach more often. With cars. With life in general.

Bonus: That feeling.

My house is around the corner to the left. Whew!

That feeling. When you’re retracing your steps to see if you sprung a leak after replacing those heater hoses and you find a trail of fresh fluid in the road and you know you didn’t see any other cars in the neighborhood on your test drive—and the trail goes to someone else’s driveway.