Dan's Daily

Maru and I got married two years ago, and life with her continues to be full of joy, love, fun, laughter, and adventure. I’m thrilled that on this anniversary, we’re finally on our (belated) honeymoon.

One concept Maru shared with me a while ago was the idea of a family birthday. In addition to celebrating our anniversary, it’s also “Happy 2nd Birthday” to our family. I thought it was a great concept, in particular one that will appeal to our future kids, making them a part of this special day too.

One thing my tennis coach keeps telling me is to watch how the pros prepare for every shot.

It how they read the game, their footwork, their placement of the racket—all of it ladders up to a clean, simple, and efficient preparation process.

I came as no surprise then that the more time I give myself to prepare for a shot, the better they get.

In tennis it’s easy to see the impact of ample preparation time—you get the benefit almost immediately.

However, I’m convinced that its benefits extend far beyond the tennis court.

Whiteboards make it easy to be wrong, and that’s a good thing.

When we’re solving a hard problem, it’s unlikely the first solution we come up with will be good enough. We need to churn out a number of ideas, sort the good from the bad, and then refine the few until we end up with a solid answer.

A whiteboard is an open canvas. It invites us to try, to experiment, to be bold, and most importantly, to be wrong. With a quick wipe, any bad idea is erased, and any new idea has space to emerge.

When I’m stuck, I quickly find myself seeking out a big blank whiteboard.

One big lesson from the first ten years of my career is that it’s always worth doing the hard work to make things simple and easy for others to understand.

Firstlyly, most people don’t—or are unwilling—to do the work. So if you do, it’s an instant differentiator.

Secondly, although it’s a skill that can be acquired, the work will always take time. Many people don’t factor that into their plans. They don’t allow time for the second or third draft, and they don’t leave space for their subconscious to work.

Finally, people notice when you’ve worked hard to make it easy for them to understand. It leads to increased trust and confidence in you and your team, and is a habit that pays dividends over and over.

I’m a massive fan of Tom Bihn bags. This year I will have had my Aeronaut 45 for 10 years and it looks pretty much the same as when I bought it. Not one zip has broken and not a single tear to be found.

Tom Bihn invest in quality materials and strong construction, and it shows in bags that will last many decades.

Whilst I’m on my honeymoon, I’m taking the slightly smaller Techonaut 30, which is a bit more carry-on friendly than the Aeronaut. It’s a dream with its thoughtfully designed main compartment and outside pockets. It’s easy to pack and to get to everything I need.

This blog isn’t big enough to have sponsors, so this is just a simple post calling out a company that does a few thing really really well. I love that.

Pessimism is easy. Anyone can come up with a risk, a downside, or a way things could go wrong.

Optimism, on the other hand, is hard. The optimist sticks their neck out for an idea. They try and imagine the best version of the future, even if that future looks far away or tough to achieve. And they work hard to convince others of their vision.

I think it is worth defaulting to optimism where we let ideas and possibilities flow. There’ll always either be time, or others, willing to offer a different perspective.

I much prefer writing these posts in the morning. However, I’m often busy and find myself getting to it at the end of the day.

It’s not just that I’m tired or think less clearly in the evening, but I approach reflection differently at the end of the day versus the beginning.

When writing early, I’m reflecting on yesterday. My subconscious has had time to process things while I sleep, and I’m trying to remember what I learned, what was interesting, and what was difficult.

When writing at the end of the day, I’m scrambling to reflect on the day without creating the appropriate space to do so.

Building writing into my morning schedule is something I’m trying to do more of in 2025.

I appreciated this video from Harvard professor, Dr. Arthur Brooks. He describes that happiness is a direction, not a destination. He goes on to say that one of the biggest mistakes people make is thinking that happiness is a feeling, and continually chasing that feeling.

We should instead see happiness more like a project that we can work on every day, where the big things that matter in life are: faith (a way of seeing the world, a philosophy, or a religion), family, friendships, and work that serves others.

That feels like a worth direction to travel in.

When writing daily, one is the minimum, but writing should be the instinctual reaction whenever a thought comes into the mind.

So maybe it’s one post, maybe it’s two, or maybe it’s five. The point is not to stop at one, but to be open to however many were the ideas across the brain in a single day.

I’ve been running to and from work for more than a year now, and I’m so pleased it’s become a habit. If I run into the office three days per week, I get about 22 kilometres of distance just from commuting, which gives me a great two-birds-with-one-stone feeling.

I like to be efficient, so every day I’m tempted to start my run without warming up. But I force myself to do 5 minutes of plyometric exercises before I begin. Plyometrics are exercises that “involve rapid and repeated stretching and contracting of the muscles,” and they’re great at getting your body prepared for the impact of road running.

I like to think that by keeping the routine the same, my body learns that a run is about to happen and readys itself for the physical stress to come. And although I can’t prove it, I believe that it significantly lowers the risk of injury.

I’ve never regretted packing light.

I’ve often regretted packing heavy.

If I’m missing something, I can always pick up a few extras.

But throwing things out whilst on the road is a no-no. So we end up lugging around things we don’t need.

Discipline before we set out to make our packs lighter and lighter and lighter pays dividends every day on the road.

Few piano players need all 88 keys. The lowest notes can be muddy and overpowering, and the highest can be too bright to be pleasant.

Especially when playing in a band, there are frequencies occupied by other instruments, so a good pianist can fill the gap in frequencies. For example, there is often little need to play down low when a bass guitar is already filling that frequency.

Just because all 88 keys are available, it takes great skill and experience to know the right frequency range to play in. I think it’s the same the role we play in trams. Just because we can operate at a certain frequency it doesn’t mean we have to.

I took a 4-5 week break from playing tennis, and when I went back for my first lesson post-break, I could barely hit a single clean shot. My coach was gracious, but I’m sure he was scratching his head.

I should’ve tried to get a few hitting sessions beforehand, but I didn’t and paid the price of a mediocre lesson—entirely my fault.

I realised that in most skills or endeavours, we tend to get rusty quickly. We lose muscle memory. We overthink upon our return.

But that’s OK. We need a break from time to time. But it pays to build in a bit of ramp-up time when we’re getting back into the game.

Maru and I got engaged in 2019, but due to the pandemic, we only got married in 2023. And because we chose to do a familymoon—which was one of the best decisions we’ve ever made—we didn’t go on a honeymoon.

Well, this year is our year! We’re finally going on our honeymoon and spending a bunch of time by the ocean in South East Asia.

In an effort to completely unplug, I’m going to be pausing my daily writing. However, the streak is important to me, so I’ve written a number of posts ahead of time and have scheduled them to go out whilst I’m away.

I’ve never done this before, and I’m excited to see how a break makes me feel about, and reflect on, this daily writing habit.

I once heard that restaurant food tastes better than home-cooked food simply because they use more salt and butter.

Apparently that’s a myth. The magic is that chefs season at every step in the cooking process, tasting as they go, and making sure that each component tastes good before it becomes part of the larger dish.

There’s a metaphor in here for how we approach any project. A whole bunch of salt and butter added at the end won’t magically make the dish better.