As our tires caught air at the track crossover, I glanced over at Michael Schumacher’s hands and marveled at the way he danced our KTM X-Bow around the corners. We were really moving. The barriers streamed by just inches away, and the turbocharger whooshed furiously behind our ears. I struggled mightily to keep my helmet from smacking the carbon-fiber backrest like a bobble-head doll. In the middle of it all, one thought kept galloping around my head: HOW AWESOME IS THIS??!!
So just how did I end up racing alongside seven-time Formula One World Champion Michael Schumacher in the finals of the Race of Champions?
Rewinding 72 hours found me in another fast seat, this time crammed in economy-class en route to the Bird’s Nest stadium in Beijing, where the 2009 Race of Champions (ROC) was being held. My friend Jim Hancock, who leads Team USA each year at ROC, had generously invited me along. Unique in the world of motorsports, ROC pairs drivers in head-to-head eliminations, usually with a passenger riding along. Accordingly, I packed my race helmet—black with chromed-out “metacool” and “IDEO” livery—in the off chance that I might co-pilot a star driver (David Coulthard? Andy Priaulx? Tom Kristensen?). The stuff boyhood dreams are made of, and I was going to be prepared.
With a dash of serendipity, a lot of luck, and a little persistence on my part, two days later I found myself strapped in alongside Michael in the final heat of the Race of Champions. During our race I was witness to one of the best drivers in history practicing his craft. As an experience, the best I can describe it is akin to being inside Wynton Marsalis’s trumpet during a Lincoln Center gig, or sitting atop Roger Federer’s racquet at Wimbeldon. A study of genius in action from the front row.
I can still recall every second of it. I literally felt the result of Michael’s endless hours of learning and practice. He possessed an almost supernatural ability to apply a minimum of control inputs to help the car run free and fast. I also saw the power of his total focus and relentless attention to detail: for those few minutes, everything concerned with winning mattered a whole lot, and everything else, not so much. In this video (our race starts around the 2:56:00 mark) you can see him ask the mechanic to check out our opponent’s ride, presumably to make sure that things were fair. On the way out to the racetrack he did a series of huge burnouts to make the rear tires stick better, and during the competition saved tenths of seconds by pounding the apexes with the X-Bow’s front wheels.
We lost. The wildly talented Mattias Ekström came in first. My abiding memory is from our cooldown lap, when Schumacher turned to me with a twinkle in his eye and shared a laugh at the site of Ekström doing a particularly gnarly smoky victory burnout.
Ironically, in our defeat came the most profound lesson I took from my race with Michael. As history shows, he’s a guy who liked to win. But across the 22 or so drivers in a F1 race, only one can stand atop the podium, so even the very best lose a lot of the time. Michael “only” won 29.6% of the F1 races he entered; in baseball terms he batted about three hundred. Not bad, but he certainly had plenty of time to think about how to be on top the next time. So like any great racer, he understands deeply how to be strong in the face of failure.
At the moment we came in second, all the hysterical screams reverberating across the Bird’s Nest abruptly went quiet (most of the Chinese spectators had come to see Michael win). Bummer. But he immediately leapt out of the car and went over to bear hug Ekström. In private, Michael must have been disappointed to lose, but he kept his head up and smiled, positively exothermic in his release of infectious energy. It was truly inspiring; his actions changed the tone in the entire stadium.
A life well-lived can look a lot like that scene from the Bird’s Nest. Whether we’re a child or in our later years, on any given day we all encounter setbacks. We all have personal trials and tribulations we have to work through. Everyone. What’s essential is to be able to resurface, take a breath, and summon the energy to keep on fighting the good fight. And if you can manage a smile along the way, even in the face of adversity, that positive energy might make it all a bit easier. Who knows, it could even help someone else make headway in their own fight.
Keep fighting, Michael.
If you’re seeking wisdom on the nature of entrepreneurship, look to art, literature, and popular culture. For example, in my experience the best guide to the nature of vision and leadership is that seminal fictional character Don Quixote. His story epitomizes how courage and clarity of vision can win the hearts and minds of others. And who hasn’t learned the brass tacks of power and influence by watching Tony Soprano in action?
If you’re open to it, there’s a wealth of inspiration and insight to be had out in the world, like this fabulous profile of entrepreneur and racer Dave Marcis:
Whether or not you’re interested in racing, if you want to know what it’s like to think like an entrepreneur, it’s well worth its seven minutes of run time.
I particularly love the segment that starts at the 3:28 mark, where Marcis talks about how running a small business on a shoestring budget taught him to be scrappier than scrappy. What caught my eye was this slogan hanging on the wall of his shop, pictured above:
“We have done so much, with so little, for so long, that we can now do anything
with nothing.”
This deceptively simple phrase captures the essence of entrepreneurship—that with enough persistence, optimism, and confidence, no challenge is too big. It reminded me of my favorite quote by Professor Howard Stevenson of Harvard Business School:
“Entrepreneurship is the pursuit of opportunity without regard to resources
currently controlled.”
When Dave Marcis talks about what he’s accomplished and how he’s done it, it becomes clear that his frame of mind was key to his success. Likewise, mindset is what enabled Elon Musk to go build rockets and cars, or Richard Turere to make peace with lions. It’s not about being in high tech, or living in Silicon Valley, or having access to a network of venture capitalists. It’s about what you tell yourself in your head: that you can build something new for the world, no matter what seems possible or reasonable.
Entrepreneurship is a mindset, one that allows you to do anything with nothing. When you decide to relentlessly pursue a dream no matter how little you’ve got, you’ve already taken the biggest step on that journey.
Like many people, I was deeply moved by the brave individuals who ignored their own safety to help victims just seconds after the recent Boston Marathon bomb blasts. How and why did they do such courageous things that day? The actions of Matt Patterson, Carlos Arredondo, Michael Chase and others in Boston speak to something deep at the heart of leadership.
What is leadership? Here’s my definition: it’s about making positive change happen which otherwise would not have happened. Action is key: when you make a difference by acting, you are leading. Knowing the right thing to do, or the right framework to use, gets you part of the way there—but that’s not leading, yet. To lead you must act on what you know and feel is right.
Now consider this brief video from 2003—each time I see it, I know I am witnessing true leadership at work:
The situation: young Natalie Gilbert is performing the Star-Spangled Banner before the start of a professional basketball game, and she stumbles. Just imagine the heartbreak of flubbing your lines in front of 20,000 strangers—at age 13. Thank goodness for the proactive kindness of Maurice “Mo” Cheeks, then the coach of the Portland Trail Blazers.
As I watch Mo Cheeks here, his actions conjure questions similar to those inspired by the Boston Marathon first responders: Of all the adults on the floor of the arena, why was he the only one to act? Why did he help without hesitation? And the big one: why did he risk his professional reputation on national television to aid a girl he didn’t know? Clearly carrying a tune is not his professional calling…
But leading is. Mo Cheeks helped Natalie because, much like those leaders in Boston, he prioritized the change needed in the world over how he might fare in the process of making it happen. He shows us that leadership demands that we act even if in doing so we jeopardize our own well-being. Because life is rarely perfect, to lead we must balance the imperfections of our present situation, abilities, and ideas against the premise of a future where we did not act. What if Cheeks hadn’t rushed to help? He certainly would have avoided embarrassment, but a young girl would have been left standing, alone. Through his leadership, Mo Cheeks not only helped another person, but lifted the spirits of everyone present—as well as all of us watching a decade later. The emotional swell of everyone singing along with Natalie is truly inspiring.
At the heart of leadership is a deceptively simple question: “Am I willing to risk my personal reputation, status, and safety for the good of others?” Sometimes in life it can feel foolhardy to rush in to try and make a difference, but doing so is rarely a foolish act. It’s an act of leadership.
(a version of this post appeared on my LinkedIn Influencers page)
“Everything can look like a failure in the middle. Persist, persevere, refocus, and things can turn around.”
Here’s a really interesting diagram created by my friend John Maeda, who is the President of RISD. It’s a portrait of leading, surviving being the leader of something, and then thriving and growing:
This diagram really speaks to me. It resonates with every experience I’ve had leading the process of bringing something new to the world. Related to this diagram, about eleven months ago I was in the “do it” phase of a big effort, and I wrote a post here about that experience titled “Climbing Mountains and Wells“. Here’s an excerpt:
When I look back upon the things I’ve embarked upon to create change in the world, one thing stands out: the journey always took much longer than projected. If that journey was something akin to climbing a big mountain, I spent more time navigating the approach to the base of the mountain than summiting the peak, if you will. I rarely if ever planned for this “flat” part of the trip. The mountain peak is so seductive, so sexy — it’s where you want to end up, so you focus on what it will take to scale the verticals. But as it turns out, it’s the long walk to the base of the mountain that’s the hardest part. It’s about perseverance more than strength.
Innovating something, be it a stand alone product or a massively interconnected system, involves many more days of getting to the peak than it does scaling the peak. This is because there are so many pitfalls along the way — so it always feels like you’re climbing something. Climbing a mountain face or a well, it feels the same: steep, slippery, and difficult. As it turns out, a lot of that climbing happens because you’ve stumbled into a crevasse or a well, and you have to find your way out before you can get back to your mission of walking to the mountain. It can’t be helped; if you’re innovating, by definition you’re venturing out through the dark unknown, so of course you’ll stumble and fall and have to pick yourself up.
What I like so much about John’s diagram is how it gives you a visceral feeling for what it feels like to “do it”, to create something new. You really do find yourself wondering “will I survive?” Per my thoughts from last year, being able to pick yourself up after a fall (being reborn) sure feels a lot easier when you know that everyone else goes through the same process, too.
Critically, it also shows the need to allow yourself time to reflect upon the change that’s been unleashed, and to learn from it. In the heat of the moment, it’s really tempting to “do it” and “survive” and then quickly loop back to “advance”. But that’s when big mistakes start getting made, where you harm your relationships with others, and where you burn yourself out. It’s critical to give yourself the time to stabilize and emerge refreshed, inspired, and ready to roll again.
Amazing diagram!
“You know, when you are in your 20s, you always believe that the race, that the championship is the only thing that matters. But then 20 years later, you say ‘Ooohhh, I remember when I was there with my mechanics, with my engineer, talking about the car, going out for a pizza…
So you realize what really (matters) was the effort that you put in daily in order to build something special. Because when the championship arrives, you cannot expect to meet happiness that day, otherwise you don’t get there. It’s the process.
You cannot talk about dedication, sacrifice or stuff like that. You just do what you have to do because you love to do it.”
This elegant talk by artist and designer Ron Finley was by far the highlight of my experience at TED last week. I find it inspiring on so many levels — here are a few:
I am inspired by the way Ron Finley went back to first principles to find a solution to the challenges he witnessed in his neighborhood, South Central. In his hometown, the obesity rate is ten times that of more affluent areas located only miles away. Goods and services are popping up to deal with the problems brought on by obesity, but they only really deal with the symptoms, and not the root cause. As Finley says in this talk, “Food is the problem and the solution”. Yes, indeed. Having now listened to this talk three times, I can’t help but admire the way he looked deeply at the challenge, and with a designer’s mind started to build solutions to enable people to change fundamental aspects of their behaviors which lead to illness and further poverty. Dreaming of and planting a Food Forest is nothing if not an act of inspiration.
I am inspired by the design of his talk itself. These days it’s relatively easy to mimic the “standard” format of a TED talk: lots of compelling images and words projected up behind the speaker, all there to push the narrative forward. But nailing a talk the way Finley does here is actually very difficult. Notice the way his photos and screen texts correspond exactly to whatever he’s trying to communicate at that moment. He avoids the use of inauthentic stock imagery, and the few words projected up on the screen correspond to only those select ideas he wants to have stick with you: PLANT SOME SHIT!
I am inspired by the way he is helping his neighbors to design their own lives. Especially the children. He talks about the importance of manufacturing your own reality, versus robotically accepting the path designed for you by others. As I listened to Finley speak in Long Beach, my mind immediately connected to this amazing statement written by my colleague Tim Brown a few years ago. Beyond immediate impact of helping people marooned in a food desert eat in ways that are building healthier bodies and minds, Finley is enabling those people to create intent in their lives, and act upon it. The act of designing and bringing something wonderful to life, be it a garden, a house, or one’s own self, is nothing but the continuous expression of mindful intent.
Above all, I am inspired by Ron Finley himself and his passion for action. As I’ve written before, my definition of leadership is very simple: it’s the act of making something happen which otherwise would not have happened. In my book, Ron Finley’s guerrilla, renegade, let’s-not-just-talk-let’s-do-something-now approach to gardening is the triple distilled essence of leadership, and that’s pretty damn inspiring.
A few days ago I came across this wonderful interview of Chris Bangle done by Hugo Becker in June 2012. I did a lot of research prepping for my Revs Program event with Chris, but I unfortunately never saw this one — I would have done a much better job had I been able to read it. It's really good.
Here's a wonderful passage where Chris talks about his current approach to designing things, and the thinking here has a direct connection to his amazing "the fox is pretty because the fox has a pretty tail" thoughts expressed at Stanford:
The other thing I have am trying to do –– and this I would ask your
readers to consider –– is to look at the world of design-creativity as
an endless stream with many contributors instead of a one-time
phenomenon coming from the pen of some famous-star-designer. The problem
with “the star designer” is that everybody else who is in the execution
process either does their job 100% right or 100% wrong ––like a
machine.
I’m trying to empower the people in my projects; to help them understand
they are all active participants in a seamless creative change process.
To make everyone be engaged and to somehow actually experience a
contributive participation…instead of me the designer saying: “Okay,
here’s the design, I’ve drawn it, now you take it and if you screw it up
God help you”.
I think this is a really powerful set of ideas. It's vitally important that people engaged in the process of designing stuff make some decisions about whether they want to empower or dis-empower the people around them as they make their way through that process.
Would love to hear what you think.
image: Chris Bangle Associates