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I passed a print shop earlier today. They had two things written in big lettering on the front of their store:

1. We print anything
2. We always deliver on time

There’s no need for fancy imagery or flowery explanations when you what your customers want and you can deliver.

But it’s the best we have until we find out there’s a better way.

Once we realise that, we can approach our work—and planning—with a little more calm and perspective.

Today’s plan likely won’t last. And that’s OK.

I finally got round to finishing Shoe Dog, the memoir by Nike founder, Phil Knight.

Since watching Air earlier this year—a great film about how Nike created the Air Jordan brand—I knew I wanted to read Shoe Dog.

Knight recounts the journey chronologically from an idea he pitched in his Stanford Business School class in 1962, to selling imported Onitsuka runners out the back of his car, to building the first line of Nike’s, and finally to the company’s IPO in 1980.

It’s a wild ride and a story of remarkable grit, creativity, and consistency on the part of the founding team.

I was shocked to learn that Knight spent the first 8 years also working a “normal job” because the company always had cash flow issues and could’ve failed at any moment.

I chucked at how Knight’s original name for their first pair of in-house shoes was Dimension Six; thankfully one of his employees suggested Nike.

And I marvelled at how a student was paid $35 to produce the Nike swoosh logo that is now on every other pair of shoes we see in the street.

It’s a realistic and humble insight into the real journey behind building a business. It’s also a tonne of fun.

If you’re waking up with an alarm, you’re not getting enough sleep.

It seems obvious once you think about it.

Instead of seeing it as a call to wake up, why not treat it as a signal to wrap up a little earlier the night before?

Every city has a personality.

New York is young, ambitious, carefree, and wants to “do all the things” because they’re afraid of missing out.

London is a little older, a little more settled, but it tries to hang on to the vibrancy of New York.

Paris is classy and relaxed. It cares about culture, but isn’t afraid to break a few rules.

Edinburgh is moody and refined. It’s middle-aged in a tweed jacket sipping whiskey in a leather armchair. Neat, of course.

Sydney is the effortlessly-cool surfer with sun-stained hair. They’re always happy. It’s hard to be sad with that much sun.

Melbourne is opinionated, sport-obsessed, and a supporter of all things cultural.

Every city has a personality.

Which did I get wrong? Which do you see differently? Which cities do you immediately have a personality for? Share them with me!

Maru and I started a tradition a few years ago: whenever we’re on holiday by the ocean, we’ll make sure to go for a swim on the day we fly out.

It doesn’t matter if it’s raining or if we need to get up before sunrise. Carrying wet togs home don’t factor in either. We always get our dose of salt water.

We’re heading back to London today, and during this morning’s swim I realised that traditions are established through conscious effort. They require thought, work, and care to become a thing.

Sure, we can luck or stumble our way into a cherished tradition, but when I think about all the little details of the traditions across our two families, the best traditions are deliberate.

I’ve had to set up multiple new computers—personal and professional—in the last few years. The most recent being last week. Each time I do so, I marvel at how easy the process has become now because of the Cloud.

Less than ten years ago, it was a mighty pain. All my photos and documents were stored locally on my university laptop, and most of my software was installed via a CD and associated software key.

Compare that to today where almost everything is either in the Cloud or accessible via a browser. With access to my password manager, I’m up and running within 30 mins.

This change didn’t happen overnight, nor was it a straightforward transformation. It was painstaking set of deliberate optimisations by many organisations over many years to make this experience easy as possible.The slow prod of progress to make our lives a little more seamless. I’m grateful.

The Rugby World Cup has arrived! It kicked off tonight with the New Zealand All Blacks facing France in the Stade de France in Paris.

I’m writing this post at half time from a noisy cocktail bar in Rhodes. France is up 9-8.

I remember writing about the previous Rugby World Cup in 2019. It made me smile to think about how this daily blog is now seeing its second round of every-four-years global sporting events.

These events bring the world together like few others, and they’re milestones that mark the passing of time in their own special way. We marvel at the skill, remember the moments of brilliance, and celebrate (or commiserate) with our friends and family.

For the next month and a bit… go the All Blacks!

I ordered a bottle of San Pellegrino sparkling water in Rhodes, Greece.

The label claimed Italian heritage, but Singaporean import information, as well as Australian recycling instructions, and something else in Greek.

I chuckled and imagined a San Pellegrino branding executive telling their label designer to go off in a bunch of directions without thinking about the whole.

I enjoy noticing these oddities and trying to piece together why they happened.

The experience of swimming in a bay filled with rocks and sea urchins is made infinitely more enjoyable with a pair of goggles and water shoes.

Being able to see what’s below the surface and place your feet anywhere without risk of an injury gives the swimmer peace of mind to explore without fear.

These two small things have an outsized impact on the overall experience.

What other small things make other experiences infinitely more enjoyable?

Trial and error is not an end point. It’s a loop.

We try, we err, we make note of what needs to change, and we repeat the process. Over and again.

Formula 1 is a tough sport to break into. There are only 20 drivers in the world who make it onto the “grid” each year.

With 2-3 of those being sons of billionaires who have paid their way in, and with some drivers staying in the sport for over 20 years, even winning junior championships, like Formula 2, doesn’t guarantee you a place the top flight. In fact, most aspiring racers invest hundreds of thousands of dollars and spend most of their teens away from home, only to miss out on their dream to race in Formula 1.

Why all this backstory? Well, I’ve been following the junior career of Liam Lawson for the past 2 years. He’s a Kiwi, and is currently New Zealand’s best shot at having one of our own on the Formula 1 grid.

He has done everything right through the junior categories; a blend of consistency, good results, and luck. And until recently he was the reserve driver for Red Bull racing, available to race if one of their drivers was unable to.

Last month Australian driver, Daniel Ricciardo, broke his hand in a crash during practice, and Lawson got his call up. Lawson has now completed two races in Formula 1, and held his own with a respectable 13th and 11th place finishes.

With few expectations on him to perform, success was (1) not making fatal mistakes, (2) being more-or-less on the pace compared with other drivers. And he’s done both of those things.

There is a good chance that via his stint as an injury replacement, he’s made a great case for a permanent seat in 2024.

With the odds of making it to Formula 1 being so slim, I’m thrilled with how Lawson has performed, and I’ve got my fingers and toes crossed that we get Kiwi on the grid next year.

Keep asking questions until people stop having answers.

At that point, you’ve likely found the edge.

Keeping probing around that edge, and like the cartographers of old, you’ll start to map the outline of a new land.

You’ll find the problem yet to be solved, the broken process where things fall apart, or the team culture that needs a reset.

The middle is known. The edge is full of opportunity.

Imagine what the world would look like if the global cumulative effort put into coming up with excuses was put into doing the work.

Excuses are like comfort food. They satisfy in the short term, but we know they’re the wrong fuel for the journey ahead.

My local park has a run club every Wednesday evening.

I’m not a member, but I often seem them doing their thing when I’m on my way back from touch rugby. They run a small circuit, so I often see the same people pass me multiple times as I make my way through the park.

The few vocal people in the group make me smile. They are keeping with the pace, but have also got the energy to shout encouraging phrases at the rest of the group.

“You’ve got this!”

“Nice work, Alan!”

“Keep it up!”

When a team is out of breath, tired, and struggling, sometimes all it takes is one person to muster the energy to throw out some positive energy.

From the smiles I saw on the faces of the other runners, it sure works.