Dan Cullum

The flight time matters, but it’s all the other bits that can make a trip lengthy and tiring.

A 1-hour flight from London to Paris seems short, but the ride to the airport, the checking-in, the security, the waiting at the gate, the boarding process, the customs and immigration checks on the other side, and the trip to your hotel. All of it adds up.

Measuring our travels, our projects, our plans, or how long it takes to make a nice meal for friends by “flight time” alone is simply forgetting all the other bits.

My highschool football coach worked hard to develop a strong passing game in our team.

He’d often say, “The ball travels faster than the player.” And it’s a phrase that has stuck with me because it’s a great metaphor for how other teams should work too.

Even if you have people on the team that are individually brilliant, they can rarely take the ball past all eleven players on the other team and score a solo goal. They almost always need to rely on multiple of their team members. In fact, the most efficient and effective path to goal is passing, trusting, and collaborating.

The absence of the ball at our feet isn’t a failure if we’ve given the ball to another open player further up the field, and if we’re putting ourselves back in an open position to advance our team’s game.

And when the team get comfortable with the passing game, they can see immediately that the ball always travels faster than even the best players.

When making plans, how do we know if we’ve set the right level of ambition for ourselves and our teams?

A helpful exercise is to “double it”.

Put together the best plan you can, and then ask yourself these types of questions: How might we double our impact? How might we double our speed to get there? How might we double our audience? How might we double our conviction that we’re doing the right thing?

If a “double” result feels doable, then the level of ambition probably wasn’t right in the first place. But if the “double” exercise encourages us to stretch ourselves a little further, it’s serving its purpose to help us find our limits.

Generally speaking, us humans can only do one thing at a time.

So even if the to-do list is long and feels insurmountable, our responsibility is really to choose the one thing we ought to do first.

The list may never get smaller, but at any given moment, we’re at least doing our best to spend our time on the right thing.

Plug in a destination into your GPS and it’ll spit out an estimated time of arrival. This is the best case scenario. And rarely, if ever, do we get there early.

However, the weather, traffic incidents, congestion, or an unlucky run of traffic lights, can all delay us. They make the best case scenario look like a wishful guess.

If it takes us a few minutes longer to get somewhere, that rarely matters. But in other areas of our lives we should we wary of relying on best-case-scenario estimates. For example, professional projects usually take longer, are more costly, and more complicated than originally planned.

The idea for this post came from today’s particularly long drive; one that ended up being a lot longer than the estimate.

The vista is more beautiful when you’ve climbed the mountain rather than taken the cable car.

The victory is sweeter when you’ve sweat for it rather than having it handed to you on a plate.

The home-cooked meal is infused with love in a way that no restaurant can match.

The effort is part of the reward.

Today I was working from a desk at the office overlooking a small field. I saw a father and son practising baseball pitches.

I looked up from my work every now and then, and for about an hour the father played the role of catcher, received each pitch, and gave his son pointers on how to improve.

I smiled because it reminded me of the times I’d kick a rugby ball with my dad, where he’d have this way of effortlessly spiralling the rugby ball through the air by hitting it with the side of his foot. I would try to mimic it and make the ball sail just as smoothly.

It’s rarely about the activity. It’s almost always about the time spent together.

If we rote learn a set of prescriptions, we aren’t thinking for ourselves. Solved tasks will be easy, but any new terrain will feel overwhelming.

On the other hand, if we’re armed with a set of principles, we’ll have a way of thinking that is malleable to the moment and will help us traverse the unknown.

If the work we’re doing has no sceptics, it may be a signal that we’re not being ambitious enough.

When there are sceptics, it’s a healthy sign that you’re trying to push the boundaries.

We shouldn’t ignore the sceptic, nor get defensive at their feedback. Instead, we should use their doubts as inputs for when we double and triple check our plans.

I once stayed at a hotel where there was an issue with my room. I called the front desk, and they kindly offered to move me. When I entered the second room, I realised the art on the wall was exactly the same as the first room. Of course, every room probably had the same artwork.

Hotel room art is selected to be uneventful and un-opinionated. It’s purchased in bulk, and the prints are cheap, and cheaply framed. They not trying to win you over with their art. They’re doing the bare minimum.

Art is certainly not the same as hotel room art.

I completed my first ever half marathon yesterday. It had been a challenge I’ve slowly prepared for throughout 2024, and I’m elated that I finished it.

Reflecting back on the day, the experience was particularly special because of two things.

Firstly, Maru and our close friends, Tim and Ilona, came along to support me. They braved the cold, wind, and rain, and navigated the course to cheer me on at multiple spots along the way. They got soaked but it didn’t stop them bringing good vibes. Completing the race without their support wouldn’t have been the same.

Secondly, the race was at the Silverstone Grand Prix circuit. Long time readers will be aware of my love of Formula One, and getting to run my first half marathon on arguably the sport’s most iconic track was incredible. I was geeking out whilst running through particularly famous parts of the circuit; remembering famous overtakes or moments.

Looking forward, one of my health goals is to be capable of running a half marathon at the drop of a hat. So now that I’ve completed my first one, I’m aiming to do more and improve my time.

For a successful technology, reality must take precedence over public relations, for nature cannot be fooled.
— Richard Feynman

I’ve been thinking a lot about this Feynman quote. When building a product or service, it’s easy to spend more time thinking about the PR than the thing itself.

In the long run, how people first hear about and see the thing matters little. What matters is building something that is measurably useful and valuable.

UK cars need a yearly check-up called an MOT. You take your car to a garage and they check a myriad of things including the brakes, steering, lights, tyres, wheels, exhaust, seat belts, and fuel systems. Ubiquitous MOTs mean that you have peace of mind that everyone else’s car has met the same safety standards as yours.

It got me thinking: why are annual health check-ups recommended but not required? I get that missing a health check-up doesn’t endanger the lives of other people, but our health is so much more valuable than the cars we drive.

Despite not being a requirement, perhaps we should think about our annual health check-ups more like a health MOT.

I recently came across a letter written by the dancer, Martha Graham, to her friend Agnes deMille. It articulates so beautifully the healthy unrest creatives should have with their work.

She makes the point that our job is to keep making things, as clearly and directly as we can. And even if we don’t like what we’re creating, we need to continue, and stay open to the things that motivate us. That’s a powerful message.

I’m pasting Martha’s text below. It’s a great read.

“There is a vitality, a life force, a quickening that is translated through you into action, and there is only one of you in all time, this expression is unique, and if you block it, it will never exist through any other medium; and be lost. The world will not have it. It is not your business to determine how good it is, not how it compares with other expression. It is your business to keep it yours clearly and directly, to keep the channel open. You do not even have to believe in yourself or your work. You have to keep open and aware directly to the urges that motivate you. Keep the channel open. No artist is pleased. There is no satisfaction whatever at any time. There is only a queer, divine dissatisfaction, a blessed unrest that keeps us marching and makes us more alive than the others.”

It’s Thursday. A crisp, overcast, July afternoon in 2013. I’m kneeling on the rugby field alongside seventeen of my teammates, and training is about to end. Our coach gives us our final instructions before Saturday’s game, and signs off with a reminder to arrive with clean jerseys and clean boots.

Rugby is a messy sport. Mud, grass stains, and blood are part of the deal. So as a thirteen-year-old boy, I didn’t understand why we needed to turn up impeccably dressed.

Twenty years later, I get it.

Turning up in a clean jersey and boots communicates both self respect and respect to the opposition. It triggers something in the mind that says I’m here, I’m ready, and I’m striving for excellence in every part of my game.

As someone who no longer plays team sports, I miss that uniformity of expression in a sporting context. Where everyone on the team knows their role and what’s expected of them; even down to the smallest detail: clean boots.