You don’t have to have it all figured out to move forward. Just ask Mr. Bigglesworth.

My husband will tell you that one of the major differences between the two of us is that I’m a planner and he’s not. While I sweat every detail, he rolls with the punches and figures things out as he goes. We try to balance each other out – sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t. Sometimes we drive each other crazy. Planning is in my nature. I like to know when I get up in the morning what I’ll be doing that day. I like to have my schedule set, my meals mapped out, and my exercise completed by somebody else. It feels right to me (especially that last part.) But when it comes to the big stuff, sometimes you have to accept that there are too many unknowns to plan it all out. You can’t wait for everything to fall perfectly in line to pursue your goals – you’ll never get anywhere. That’s why I’m grateful that I ignored my own natural tendencies and left my last job three years ago with no plan. Even though I found a lot of success in my position, once I acknowledged that I had hit the proverbial glass ceiling I made the decision to get out pretty quickly. So that’s what I did. With no plan for the future. Did I mention that I had no plan? Because I cannot stress enough that I had no plan. I always knew I’d have a business one day, but I didn’t know what it would be. I planned on making a plan for that. I didn’t realize that, plan or no plan, when...

Success is overrated. Fail. Rinse. Repeat.

There’s something to be said for failure. Not the permanent kind, although I would argue that permanent failure exists only if you give up.  But the trying-something-I-haven’t-yet-mastered kind of failure…that’s the kind I’m speaking of. We all look up to someone in racing. Many of us think that if we just achieved their level of mastery and accomplishment, we’d be satisfied. We would have success. But that person, your person, has someone that they look up to as well. And I’ll bet someone looks up to you. Me, too. (It’s hard to believe, but my dog is significantly shorter than me. *Ba-Dum-CH!*) We strive to the next far-reaching level of success. And some of us may be satisfied when we get there. It may be enough. And that’s great. It really is. But for me? That’s not in my nature. I’m a competitive, driven person. I’ll always want to be better, and to achieve more. It can be unsatisfying at times, but at the same time I’m proud of where that has taken me so far. So I’ve learned that I need to fail. And do it as quickly and often as I can. It’s these failures, these attempts that we make over and over again, that lead us to accomplishment. When I do a branding or marketing campaign for a company, I fail at creating slogans. I fail at directing the graphics. I fail at writing website copy, crafting a marketing strategy and designing social media campaigns. I fail over and over again at countless things until I get it right. I bet you failed at everything in...

Create opportunities for people to miss out.

There is a level of scarcity attached to most things in life. There are only a certain number of hours in the day. There is only so much work you can do. There’s only so much space on a race car. When you think about things that you spend money on that aren’t life-sustaining necessities – concert tickets, pit passes, funky t-shirts, bacon tacos (arguably not life-sustaining) – you realize that many of these things are purchased because of FOMO. The fear of missing out. The fear of missing out isn’t just about competition or keeping up with the Joneses – it’s generally not about owning the same amazing things other people have. It’s about missing out on an experience or advantage that you could have benefited from. If this fear is present in your audience, you can sell. Whether it’s fans buying t-shirts or marketing partners buying appearances and advertising space, when people understand that there is scarcity around something they want, they are willing to pay more for it. And they do it faster to ensure that they get it before it runs out. The catch is: what you’re doing needs to be good. Better than average. The best, in fact, to your audience. It’s obvious that the better your work is, the higher prices you can charge and the faster your schedule books up. I’ve experienced this first-hand – recently, I’ve been surprised by clients offering to pay more than what I normally charge just to ensure that they get the spot on my schedule that they want. Think that would never happen in racing? Think...

On Speed.

In many ways, racers have the characteristics of a tribe. We have driver’s suits, crew uniforms and t-shirts that show we’re part of the group. We have our own unique language, coining terms like ‘up on the cushion’, ‘full noise’ and ‘wide open’. We show up at the same racetracks, by the hundreds – sometimes the thousands – for the same reason. Races are legendary – movies are made, songs are written and art is created to depict our racing. We’ll travel far and wide just for a few hours of action and turn around to tow home. We wake up groggy the next day, knowing that we’d do it all again if we had the opportunity. We share the same dreams, hopes and fears. We celebrate together in the best of times and mourn together in the worst. But, we seem to be missing something. By definition, a tribe can’t exist without a leader. Some days, we are lead by the best of us – the driver that runs the best, clean race. The team that reaches victory lane. But generally, we give that driver our respect and move on. We’re not lead by them. Our leader is speed. Speed is a living, breathing beast. It is mysterious – always reachable but never achievable. It is powerful and commands respect. In speed, we achieve glory. Speed pushes us to the brink of what’s safe, healthy and sane. It continuously demands our best – mechanically, mentally and physically. We innovate, trying to get more of it. Sometimes, we lose track of the edge and are swallowed by it. But...

You’ll never hand-whittle a winning car (or Fred Rahmer’s mustache). Just show up, and show up often.

I had an epic day yesterday, in which I got nothing on my to-do list crossed off. The epic-ness stemmed not from what I did, but from what I learned about the process of building something you love. Something that you’re proud of. You racers ought to be able to relate. You pour your heart and soul – and all the money, time and energy you can muster – into building your race team. The first time you race, the goal is just to get that car on the track and turn left as many times as you can without screwing up. Your goals change as you gain knowledge and experience – you go from wanting to finish a race to shooting for victory lane. Racers know especially well that no matter how much you accomplish, you always want more. Successful local drivers want to go on tour. Tour drivers want to win more races. Winning drivers want to win championships. Championship-winning drivers want to grow a mustache like Fred Rahmer’s. There’s always room to improve. But sometimes, you can get so caught up in achieving the highest possible goals that you stop yourself from doing anything. I’ve personally fallen into this trap. For months, I didn’t write anything here because I wanted everything I wrote to be perfect. I didn’t see anyone else putting out the type of content I wanted to write, so I didn’t either. No one learned anything about me and my goals. And I didn’t help anybody achieve theirs, either. If we’ve ever met, you know I’m pretty quiet – I’ve got to be...