Dan Cullum

There are some moments in sport, where no matter the outcome, everyone smiles.

Today was one of those days.

Argentina’s rugby team—Maru’s team, Los Pumas—bet the New Zealand All Blacks for the first time ever.

When a team defies history, precedent, and expectation, and accomplishes something for the first time, it’s a moment to be savoured. There is elation, pride, and relief that the hard work has finally paid off.

And to defeat a team with a 77% win rate since 1903, it’s a huge achievement!

Kudos to Los Pumas!

It’s happened multiple times in the past few months.

One video conferencing programme or another is breaking, pausing, cutting in and out, or just causing a headache.

Inevitably, someone says, “Shall we switch to Zoom?”

And when we’re on Zoom, it just works.

Or, perhaps more appropriately, it doesn’t break.

Sometimes we don’t need to jump higher, run faster, or be stronger than the rest to succeed.

We just need to be more reliable.

What’s your life philosophy in one sentence?

If you don’t have one, take a minute and think about what it could be.
(Spoiler alert: I don’t have one yet either).

If you do, let me know what it is 🙂

Since watching the Netflix sports documentary series ‘Drive to Survive’ earlier this year, I’ve been a Formula 1 fan.

This is weird because I haven’t closely followed a sport since leaving New Zealand almost 8 years ago. And I also because I spent years criticising Formula 1 for being a boring sport for rich dudes.

However, I now think there is something special about 20 drivers, travelling at 300kph, barely 10cm off the ground, hurtling into and around corners, and all being within tenths of a second of each other. It’s also the personalities, the technology, and the team work required to succeed, that won me over.

Whilst listening to a podcast today, I was stoked to discover that Ceri Evans, a New Zealand forensic psychiatrist well known for being the psychologist for the All Blacks, is also an instrumental force in the #1 Formula 1 team, Mercedes-AMG.

He has a mantra that has been adopted across the Mercedes-AMG organisation, “See it, Say it, Fix it”.

Everyone across the organisation is encouraged to speak up and point out the team’s shortcomings. This produces an environment of psychological safety which has been critical to Mercedes-AMG’s ability to confront failure and improve.

I love how simple the mantra is, and I’m excited to experiment with it in my own teams.

Following my post from the other day about Joe Biden’s electoral win, my subscriber count moved south.

I don’t intend for this blog to be divisive, but I’m not going to stop short of writing honest, unapologetic reflections.

Consistently refusing to take a position on a topic will eventually result in bland platitudes.

No one wants to read those. And if I ever get into that territory, let me know!

My learning for today: these posts won’t resonate with everyone, and that’s okay.

4 years ago, when I was on the Mississippi, I flew a drone each day to get shots for our short film. When I bought the drone, it came in a carry-on sized box, and cost about $1,500.

Today, I received a recommendation from Amazon for a foldable drone that films in 1080p HD for $50.

Sure, there are non-trivial differences between the two, but the 97% reduction in price blew my mind; especially considering the basic functionality—flying a drone and filming video—is the same.

It reminded me of the concept of the experience curve: with every doubling of cumulative production, the cost of production lowers by a predictable percentage.

If such massive change can occur in the cost of drone technology in 5 years, it gets me thinking about what we can expect to see over the next 5-10 years across other hardware devices.

The UK went into lockdown on Thursday. This is our second and is set to last for at least 1 month to contain the spread of the virus.

Yesterday, as we went for a cycle through central London, I realised winter will be different this year.

The streets were packed, people were wrapped, and many families sat together eating the to-go food they’d bought from local cafes and restaurants. There was a palpable determination to continue some semblance of normal life despite the lockdown.

This winter, we’re going to spend a lot of time outside, and life will go on.

I was thrilled to see Joe Biden elected as President of the United States today.

I rarely write about politics on this blog, but this is a moment to remember.

Over the past few months, it has felt like the foundations of democracy—in the US, and around the world—have been creaking.

However, this result is a repudiation of the racism, lies, and bigotry that have occupied the most powerful office in the world for the past 4 years.

This is a great day for democracy.

I’m yet to meet someone who regretted a walk on the beach.

Some things have almost zero downside, and an abundance of upside.

Where others add little value to our lives (e.g., doom scrolling at 3am watching election results on Twitter).

So why not fill our lives with more of the zero-regret stuff, and get rid of the rarely-ever-helpful stuff?

Maru is from Argentina.

I’m from New Zealand.

Argentina is filled with one way streets.

New Zealand is filled with roundabouts.

When I’m with Maru in Argentina, I marvel at how she has memorised the streets and avoids all the dead ends.

And when we’re in New Zealand, Maru is impressed at how everyone just seems to know how to get in and out of a multi-lane roundabout.

We’ve all got our own one way streets and roundabouts—things we’re comfortable with, and things that feel foreign to us. Regardless of our differences, there’s always something to learn—and appreciate—about the way that others work.

“Are your obligations real or imagined?”

I read this question in a James Clear email newsletter from last year. There’s a lot to unpack and explore with this one.

I woke up this morning and looked out at London.

The sun was piercing—the kind of morning light that makes you squint.

And the rain was pattering—the kind that makes you happy you’re inside.

When I was 5, my teacher said every time there was a sunshower, monkeys were getting married.

It’s stuck with me for 25 years.

Sometimes it’s simply the names we give to moments that help them live on.

My thoughts today are with my family, friends, and readers in the US.

There are a lot of nerves, and rightly so—this election will have huge consequences for the United States, and for the rest of the world.

You don’t need me spouting off an opinion here, but please know I’m thinking of you all, and hoping a positive and peaceful day for democracy will prevail.

I’m running an experiment this week by trying Mindful Chef’s ready meals for my lunches.

If I’m being honest—because I’m at risk of sounding overly first-world problemish here—I still want the healthy option of grilled salmon and vegetables, but not the mental switching cost that comes with preparing it.

Additionally, when I read the list of ingredients on a Mindful Chef’s meal, I know them all. There is no long list of chemicals or preservatives. This is important to me if I’m going to eat a ready meal.

Once I take into account the raw ingredient cost of the meal I’d be cooking anyway, I’m paying £1-2 ($2-3) for the cooking and delivery of the Mindful Chef meals.

The portion sizes are exactly where I need them (about 400-500 calories per meal), and the macronutrient ratios are scannable right into MyFitnessPal; where I track calories.

I’m hoping this experiment saves me time and mental bandwidth over the next week or two. I’ll report back when I’m done.

It’s been 6 months since I’ve started cutting my own hair. For those new to the blog, I wrote about the first time here.

My measure of success is: if I can avoid comments like, “What happened, dude?” I assume I’m doing okay.

As I cut my hair this morning, I had two reflections:

1. Building muscle memory is hard when there is a 4-6 week break between practice sessions. When we want to learn—and learn fast—we need frequent, deliberate practice.
2. The hard part about cutting your own hair ends up not being the cutting itself, but the clean up. Interestingly, my focus whilst cutting has now shifted from the cutting to trying my best to avoid a lengthy sweep-up.

I think 2) is a helpful metaphor for our work and projects. We’re used to focusing on the task at hand, but it’s easy to forget about the mess we may be making now, that we’ll have to clean up down the road.