As a kid in Brighton, England, I had no idea my life would take me to sunny SoCal and to work with some of the world's smartest and most innovative Founders.

And some days, I still can’t believe this is my work.

A few months ago, I was in a coaching session with a visibly frustrated founder.

He said, “My team just doesn’t get it; they keep arguing with me instead of listening.”

So I asked him, “When they challenge you, do you try to understand their point first, or do you immediately explain why they’re wrong?”

He paused. Smiled awkwardly. Then said, “Touché.”

That’s the moment it clicked for him, and honestly, for most leaders I work with, that the goal isn’t to win conversations, it’s to learn from them.

Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about loneliness. Not as some abstract social issue, but as something I’ve lived through and see many around me experiencing. 

Feeling lonely doesn’t make you weak. It makes you human. We evolved to be in communities.

When I pivoted careers, first from real estate into cycling coaching, and later from coaching athletes to coaching leaders, I made a choice that didn’t make sense on paper.

Being a founder is often romanticized with the bold visionary, the fast growth, the glory of building something from scratch. And while there are incredible highs, most people's perceptions of what it’s like are flat-out wrong.

IQ Gets You In the Room. EQ Gets You the Room.

Most people still think the smartest person in the room should lead.

They’re wrong.

Apologies aren’t about weakness. They are about strength.

When leaders apologize sincerely, they demonstrate self-awareness, humility, and accountability. Those qualities don’t diminish authority—they strengthen it.

There’s a quiet relief that washes over me every time I travel.

It’s not just about escaping the daily routine. It’s the deeper freedom that comes from not having to perform. The freedom to drop the mask I’ve learned to wear so well.

In my first career as a real estate entrepreneur, and later as a coach to elite athletes, I believed that the best way to support people was to roll up my sleeves and fix things.

I’m worried that being coached will make me soft….

I will lose my edge….

On a recent episode of Simon Sinek’s podcast, Steven Bartlett, successful entrepreneur and host of “Diary of a CEO,” was asked to share some of his most pivotal realizations. 

His story of life in a Nazi concentration camp and the effects it has on the inmate's psyche is both a reminder of the horrors that humans can be capable of and a remarkable lesson in leadership and our abilities to choose how we react, even in the most extreme environments. It’s also a great reminder to be grateful for all we have in life because it could be so much worse.

Here are my three key takeaways from Frankl’s work.

I believe we have to turn inward and face the truth…

It's Time to Update the American Dream

The original American Dream was a powerful call to action.

✓ Work hard.
✓ Buy a home.
✓ Climb the ladder.
✓ Retire in comfort.

It was designed for a different era. A time of frontiers, factories, and predictable paths. And back then, it served a purpose. It gave people hope. It created structure. It built the world's most powerful economy.

Here's the hard lesson I learned about rescuing people...

In my first career as a real estate entrepreneur, and then as a coach to elite athletes, I believed the best way to support people was to step in and fix things.

Let’s talk about something that doesn’t get discussed enough in the startup world: fulfillment.

Not funding rounds. Not flashy exits. Not the hustle porn headlines.

I mean the deeper stuff, the quiet, inner knowing that you’re living in alignment, doing work that matters, and becoming someone you actually like along the way.

As a founder or executive, you're accustomed to being in the spotlight. You set the vision, call the shots and shoulder immense responsibility…

Here's something I've learned from coaching hundreds of leaders: no matter how talented, driven, or visionary you are, you can't and shouldn't do it all alone.

As high achievers, we often wear our busyness like a badge of honor. Success, productivity, and meeting responsibilities take center stage while our well-being quietly falls to the bottom of the list. Sound familiar?