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Contents

Introduction

Average 70kg Dickhead

It is Not the Critic Who Counts

The Fight in the Dog

Walking Down

Eating an Elephant

The Elusive Sandy Beret

Turns Out I Sucked at Triathlon

Leap and the Net Will Appear

RAK on!

Feed Your Future

Stay Humble but be Certain You Can Achieve Your Goals

Don’t Leave Any Rounds in the Magazine

Give and Take Second Chances but Think Carefully about Third

Stop Moving the Goddamn Goal Posts!

Recalibrating the Suck Meter – the Tale of Devaluing Two Supercars

Leaderships, Accolades, and Money

The Only Competition is You Yesterday

Don’t Leave Things Unsaid, and Never, Ever Take Yourself Too Seriously

Conclusion

Introduction

The first point that I would like to make before we get started relates to the very ethos of this book, and that is this book is imperfect. As you read you will no doubt find typos, spelling and grammatical errors for which, while they are certainly not intentional, I make no apologies. For the American audience, the book has been written using English spelling protocols, so there aren’t as many spelling mistakes as you might think you’re picking up! One of the key principles I want to convey in this book is to take action and get started, and the process of meticulously revising and refining this manuscript would have been the antithesis of that principle. This book serves as an elaboration of some of my Instagram posts that seemed to capture the imagination of some and through their comments and messages I was humbled to learn that I had helped to motivate and inspire them to keep moving forward in life. I truly hope that at least one of the topics discussed herein resonates with you and inspires you to take a current endeavor to the next level or overcome the mental barriers to start something new. We only get one crack at this life, so make it count! Let’s get started.

Average 70kg Dickhead

The term average 70kg dickhead stems from a conversation that I had in my early twenties with my flat mate at the time. We were both keen triathletes and had just returned from a training session at the gym where there had been a humungous rock-ape type bloke lifting ridiculous weights and screaming for the whole world to hear as he did so. The subsequent discussion that my friend and I were having centred around whether being able to lift that amount of weight in the gym necessarily translated into any practical application, specifically fighting. I put this query to my friend and he had replied with “surely if he can lift those weights in the gym he could pick up and throw your average 70kg dickhead”. The term resonated with me as it is precisely as I have always, and continue to, see myself – an average 70kg dickhead.

I confess that many of the experiences that I have had over my life have been far from average, and some of the things that I may have accomplished in my professional career have been slightly right of centre on the bell curve. That said, when it boils down to me specifically I am average, weigh roughly 70kg, and as my wife loves to remind me, am indeed very capable of being a bit of a dickhead. I was born into an average middle-class Australian family to an army dad and a speech therapist mum. I have one brother and we had a cat growing up. Average. I was average throughout my schooling and owing to my dad’s army postings went to 8 different schools, getting expelled from one. I eventually got through grade 12 with Cs in physics and math, and grades good enough to get me into university to do something but nowhere near good enough to apply for medical school at the time. I was average at sport for most of my youth, swimming and playing cricket at a regional level in my primary school years. In my later years of high school I took a keen interest in middle-distance running and this was the first time I really devoted myself towards setting goals, and I found myself popping my head up above average by ranking in the top 10 in my State for 1500m in my senior year. Aside from that I had an average amount of friends at school but was never the cool kid. I had girlfriends, but never the hottest girls in the school.

Overall I had a very average upbringing. Don’t get me wrong, I certainly wasn’t below average or disadvantaged in my upbringing, mine is not an inspirational story of overcoming overwhelming adversity or rising up against huge odds. My family unit was stable, we weren’t rich but we had more than enough to get by. I always had a roof over my head, and I never went hungry, quite the opposite – until I started running I was a slightly fat kid. What I’m getting at here is that the physical and mental tools that were at my disposal at the beginning of my life were the exact same set that the majority of society gets allocated, nothing more, nothing less.

In the 25 years since I left school with average grades I have managed to become a doctor, join the Australian Army and pass Special Forces selection, get decorated for my conduct in action on Special Operations in Afghanistan, complete specialist medical training, represent Australian Special Forces medical on an international level, complete an MBA, co-own a business with multi-million dollar revenues, buy a Lamborghini and a Ferrari, found an ambitious startup company building a prototype sports car with a view to limited production, and get an executive job running a state-wide medical capability. I’ve fallen in a bit of a post-traumatic heap after my time with the army and managed not only to climb back out of my rut, but to somehow become a better person because of it. Along the way I married a fantastic woman and we had three awesome kids.

I’m as surprised as anyone about some of the events in my life over the past 25 years, and on reflection I can see that there’s a healthy mix of nature, nurture, amazing role models, and more than a fair share of lady luck and good timing to my story. This book is a series of ramblings regurgitated from my mind in an attempt to explain how an average 70kg dickhead somehow managed to occasionally squirm his way to above average results. It is not designed to be a memoir of any kind, and follows no particular order, it is simply a series of chapters relating to motivational factors in my life to date and lessons learned along the way.

It is Not the Critic Who Counts

Many readers will recognise the title of this chapter as the opening words from the legendary speech widely known as The Man in the Arena delivered by Theodore Roosevelt to a large audience in Paris in the year 1910. If you’re unaware of this speech you should look it up, in my opinion it is the most inspirational passage that has ever been uttered and it has fueled my motivation towards many goals in my life.

Failure to see the truth behind this opening line: It is not the critic that counts is at the core of why many of us in this life never hit our goals, and why some of us never even set goals in the first instance. It is human nature to be influenced by what others think of us, especially those close to us, and sadly it is also human nature for a lot of people to want to drag down the tall poppies among us. I guess this tendency stems from an inherent insecurity that many have that is worsened by watching others rise above the level of performance that they are at. These people don’t have the aptitude or drive to strive towards a goal themselves, so to retain their own sense of self-worth it is crucial for them to do their best to dissuade others from pursuing self-improvement that would lead them to betterment. That way everyone stays at their shitty level and they can feel equal, and not inferior. The way that these people achieve this objective is through criticism of your goals and aspirations. Let me provide an example.

In late 2001 I had been introduced to the world of Army Special Forces through my best mate, who had joined the Australian Special Air Service Regiment (SASR) and was getting ready to deploy to Afghanistan on one of the early rotations of Australia’s involvement in the conflict. I had visited him for a holiday to catch up before he deployed and during the trip I had the chance to meet a few of his fellow operators and tour the base they worked out of. I was hooked. A lightbulb flicked on in my mind and I knew instantly that was the career for me. I was already on a trajectory toward being an army doctor, but I decided that from that day forth I would dedicate my very existence toward becoming an army Special Forces doctor. It was a perfect fit in my mind, a way to blend medicine with a physically demanding role, as well as a healthy dose of professional satisfaction and excitement on the side. I dedicated the next six years of my life towards bettering myself with the objective of completing the grueling SASR selection course. I completed my medical schooling, all the while pack marching hundreds of kilometers month-in, month-out, I studied languages, I scuba dived, I rock climbed, I shot handguns and rifles, anything to improve myself in areas that I felt might improve my chances of being suitable for Special Forces service. All the while I stayed quiet about my aspirations, and aside from a few key people in my life who I knew would support me, I didn’t tell a soul. Fast forward to 2007 and I had graduated from medical school, completed my compulsory medical internship and a further year of civilian hospital experience, and I was a few months into my posting to my first army unit. Despite having technically been in the army for six years by that stage, all of that time had been spent in civilian schooling and hospitals, so in effect I was only several months into proper military service. That first year “in uniform” was spent doing a series of basic induction courses to learn how to behave as an army officer, as well as apply my medical skill set in the army environment. For all intents and purposes I was a newbie, wet behind the ears. That was the context within which I attended my interview with my army career advisor that year. Now before we go on, I feel it’s important to see this interaction from his perspective. From his side of the table he would have seen me as a brand-new baby army doctor who was 30 seconds into his job and was yet to even complete the courses required to become employable in a full capacity in the role, let alone deployable. He didn’t know me from a bar of soap, and certainly would have had no idea that I had spent the previous six years sharpening myself physically and mentally for Special Forces selection. Back to my side of the table. As I entered that interview my initial impression of my career advisor was unimpressive. He was overweight, slumped in his chair, wearing his dress uniform poorly, and didn’t rise from his seat to greet me when I entered. He was however the person who could have a significant impact on my career, so I looked past my initial impression and pressed on with the start of the interview, trying to put my best foot forward. When asked what my intentions were for my career, I confidently informed him of my plan to do SASR selection and pursue a career with Special Forces. He had been eating his lunch while completing my interview and it was at this point, with a mouth full of food, that he looked up at me in amused disbelief as to what he was hearing and began to draw a deep breath to laugh in my face. In doing so he deeply inhaled a food particle from his mouth which sent him into an explosive coughing fit that caused him to turn red, and then purple, before finally clearing his airways enough to allow him to laugh directly to my face. He proceeded to crap all over my aspirations and let me know that I was sacrificing my opportunity to build a real career by chasing a pipe dream. I had never felt so humiliated in my life; I felt my face redden and my blood pressure rise. The blood vessels in my temples started to throb and I actually felt tears well in my eyes, it was a horrible experience. As you can imagine, the remainder of that interview was icy and unproductive. We ticked the remaining boxes to complete the process and I left the room feeling very angry and very, very small. After taking a few hours to calm down from the humiliation of the interview I decided that showing was better than telling and I strengthened my already robust resolve to pass SASR selection and live my dream of joining Special Forces. I took the negative energy from the interaction with that career advisor and used it to fuel my training from that day on, reliving that experience in my mind during my darker times of physical pain and exhaustion during training. I turned his condescension into rocket fuel for my motivation, if nothing else than to stick my success as far up his arse as possible. I’m not entirely sure how healthy using spite as motivation is, but at that stage it seemed to serve me well. I have subsequently seen spite referred to as a motivator in a couple of books, most notably in “How to be f*cking awesome” by Dan Meredith, which is a refreshing take on the motivational book theme and well worth a read in my opinion.

does

To quote another literary genius on the same topic I will borrow a couple of lines from Rudyard Kipling’s magnificent poem If. Once again, if you haven’t come across this one, do yourself a favour and Google it. In the first passage of that poem Kipling writes:

If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you, but make allowance for their doubting to

This couple of lines speaks to me on the topic of goals as well, but in a more inclusive way with regards to considering the opinion of others than just ignoring their criticism outright. When applied to the context of pursuing life goals, I relate Kipling’s words here to backing yourself 100% to be able to achieve the goal you have set, however to not be completely and immediately dismissive of the opinion of others. Take their opinions on board and consider them, especially if those people are close to you and will be impacted by the pursuit of your goal, and if there’s something productive to be gained from their opinion and doubt then use it, otherwise dismiss it after due consideration.

By far the best way to avoid criticism of your goals is to simply not broadcast them widely. Share them with those who need to know and only when they need to know them. Don’t be the guy or girl who is always running their mouth about how they are going to do this or that. For the most part these are the people who will ultimately never attempt to pursue said goals, and if they do they are setting themselves up for an epic fall if they have widely publicised their pursuits and then fail to achieve them. It’s best to hustle in silence and only pop up on the radar when absolutely necessary, and even then, let your actions do the talking rather than your words.