You see, my dreams were being held captive by a variety of captors: sleeping in, comfortable relationships, inability to endure temporary pain/discomfort, not being able to say no, the risk of rejection, fear of loss, and so many more familiar captors.

Like someone suffering from Stockholm Syndrome, I didn’t just tolerate my captors – I defended them. I justified them. It felt natural to sleep in. It felt reasonable to avoid the difficult path. It felt comfortable to spend time with the very habits and mindsets that were holding my dreams hostage.

The breakthrough came when I stopped identifying with my captors and started seeing them for what they were. The life I wanted wasn’t being denied by circumstances; it was being negotiated away, one comfortable decision at a time.

The moment I stopped sympathizing with what was holding me back, my dreams stopped looking improbable and started looking inevitable.

Each day, our dreams are steadily dying day-by-day unless we take precise actions. Time is not on our side. In fact, some of the ‘hostages’ are already dead – our dreams that will never be realized due to our inability to act. As your dreams die off, the reality becomes more painful each day. I suck at freeing these things.

It’s time to identify the real captor. So, who is holding the dreams hostage? It’s you.

Waking up early to pursue your dream isn’t hard. Enduring a moment of pain or discomfort isn’t hard. Having your dream die is hard. Don’t fool yourself and mortgage your future.

The post Your Dreams Are Being Held Hostage… By You appeared first on DavidAngotti.com.

The abbreviated timeframe that the Grand Slam of Ultramarathon requires – 90 days from start to finish to complete the four, separate 100-mile runs through the mountains – is not reasonable. But, I knew the deal when I signed up… That didn’t change the fact, in the days before the race, I was questioning my life choices. I didn’t want to do the final race. In fact, I was depressed about it.

Despite dreading the race, the people pacing and crewing me were a highlight. Jason Shehane, who I had previously run the Leadville 100 two times and Desert Rats with, along with my friend Chris Wheeler, John Harrison (son), and Catherine (spouse).

I was thankful to get a fairly good night’s sleep leading into race morning. On race morning, I ate some oatmeal and bacon, drank some cold brew, and did a Maurten Bicarb. I knew that if I could get some calories in along with protecting the gut that I would be in better shape later that day. I was anxious, but I always am when I have to run 100 miles.

Jason wasn’t new to this and as fully aware that he was about to have a really long day crewing and pacing and decided to get some sleep while the rest of us headed over to the start line for a 5:00 am start. At the start, I looked around for Tarrance, Phil, or Matt (other Grand Slammers), but didn’t see any of them. It wasn’t long after I lined up, before the race started.

The first 3 miles were rolling hills, but then it got steep and fast. To make matters worse, someone stirred up a HUGE yellow jackets nest while we were on the steep section and there was nowhere to go. Being trapped between drop-offs and people in the Congo line meant I would take over 15 stings before escaping.

One of my teammates would have kidney issues due to this, but thankfully my side effects were limited to pain, swelling, and an increased pulse from the sheer amount of stings and poison. Before long, we made it to the top of that first steep climb. It had been the equivalent climb to a 5K that starts at the bottom of the Grand Canyon and finishes at the top. That climb combined with the yellow jackets and thin mountain air, had left me out of breath. We still had 93+ miles to go and I could see the beautiful Wasatch Mountain range in front of me. That is where I would be spending the next 24+ hours running on steep trails.

From here the trail continued uphill at a reasonable gradient for about a mile and then hit a downhill gradient that would last for a few miles and the views were fantastic! The sun had risen, the pain from the stings was subsiding, and thing were looking good. At 16.6 miles there was a great aid station (Bountiful) and I had a drop bag. I replenished supplies and then tackled the next four or so miles of technical trails.

Then, before I knew it, I was at the Sessions Lift (20.9 mile) aid station. I knew from reviewing the times and course ahead of time, this next section was going to be tough – really tough. Straight out of the aid station, we had a long, steep climb that wouldn’t stop. There was no relief at the top though-I was fully exposed to the noon sun and running up and down along the ridge line. The vegetation looked dried out and that’s how my mouth felt. I would have to start rationing my water before I descended into the Big Mountain Pass aid station with my crew due to the heat. Finally, I could hear and see that aid station far below me. What a relief.

The Big Mountain Pass aid station was my first big milestone. Not only would I get to see my crew for the first time, I would also get a pacer (Jason) here. We took 10-15 minutes to regroup. I was behind on nutrition and hydration and had the beginnings of major blisters. While the temptation is to rush through a stop like this, a few minutes now can save hours or major pain later.

During that section with Jason, he knew exactly what to say. He pushed me to keep rehydrating and eat continuously. Hilariously, at one point we got separated as a runner that looked like me had passed him. We ran a mile or two separated, but then reconnected. The combination of being past peak afternoon heat and having the company of Jason was reinvigorating and this section passed quickly. I was excited to get back to the crew at Lamb’s Underpass (47.5 miles) where I would pick up Chris, but it was a bit depressing to realize the easiest half still wasn’t even done and the sun was already nearing sunset…

Chris would pace me out of Lamb’s Underpass and he was amazing. He knew what to say at the right time. He entertained both my hallucinations as well as my crazy thoughts of the moment. We were making steady progress, but the relentless hills and the high altitude were taking a toll. It was getting difficult to hold down calories and I was operating in a deficient state.

Coming out of that aid station, I began throwing up violently. All of the calories and liquids I had tried to put down had escaped my gut. Now, I knew I was behind on nourishment and would have to dig deep to keep going. Even though I could still taste vomit in my mouth, I forced another Maurtens gel down and then another. Without calories I would fail.

From here, Chris and I had a significant climb out of that aid station and back into the pitch black. This next section would last hours and try our patience. My gut wasn’t cooperating so I was either on the verge of vomiting or throwing up. Slam another gel. The course was beautiful – it was pitch black and we were weaving through the mountains with countless stars above us. I was broken, but there was not an option other than forward!

At Brighton Lodge, I made a conscious choice to not go inside. This ski lodge is known as one of the best aid stations in all of ultrarunning complete with real bathrooms, hot foods, and even beds to lie down on. I didn’t want to tempt myself with comfort. Instead, I sat down in the parking lot and addressed my feet. The blisters were bad, the worst I have ever had. I also tried to force myself to take on calories even though I had thrown up a few times on the previous section – the remaining 30 mountain miles were going to place high demands on the body and fuel was required even if my body wanted to reject it.

The second section that Jason paced me for was absolutely soul-crushing. It was continual climbing and at a point the body just wanted to give out. On that climb, Coach Scott (in Europe) gave Jason a call to let me know that if I was going to finish with the lowest Grand Slam time, I needed to push harder. This was a bit frustrating since I was giving it everything I had.

The only thing slower pace-wise than the huge climb out of Brighton was the technical decent on the other side. The downhill sections were so steep, you had to slow down to 20+ minute pace use trekking poles to prevent falling off the mountain or wiping out. Once we got to some runnable sections, I started pushing the pace to the extent possible and I am still proud of those efforts. I emptied my buck and more on some of those sections.

The race rules don’t allow under 18 years old to pace other than the last eight or so miles. By this point, John Harrison was ready to go! I picked him up at ‘Top of the Wall’ and then we continued through some weird winding canyon trails that were kind of overgrown. The best way to describe this initial section was cow pasture (with cows!) meets the desert. After a few miles, we past an aid station and then exited the fields onto a gravel road. This section would take me the majority of the way back in.

The gravel road would have a long steady climb to it as we worked our way parallel to a beautiful lake. Since I had little knowledge of the course, I didn’t know where it would end and was concerned about wrong turns – I didn’t want to do anything that would add any extra steps at this point!

Finally, after 100 miles, the finish line was in sight! I picked up the pace a bit and finished at 13-minute pace, which felt like I was sprinting. As I crossed the finish line, the announcer recognized me as the first Grand Slammer to finish in 2025 and the winner (lowest overall time) of 2025. The emotion I felt the strongest was relief. I was relieved that it was done. Relief that I could quit running on my blistered feet that were in a TON of pain. Relieved that I had not fallen short of my expectations for myself.

I was the first finisher of the 2025 Grand Slam of Ultramarathoners and had the lowest overall time for the four races of the entire group competing, which is the equivalent of winning the Grand Slam overall. It was done. It’s time to head home.

Already, on the car ride back to the house, I started thinking about the next race. What would I do now?

No finish lines.

The post Wasatch 100: No Finish Lines appeared first on DavidAngotti.com.

The starting line was abuzz with excitement as the clock approached 4:00 am. Every individual gathered for this race had earned their spot and had been training for nearly a year or even longer. You don’t casually stroll up to the starting line of one of the most challenging 100-mile races. Unlike my 50-mile race here in Leadville a few years ago, I didn’t experience imposter syndrome. At the beginning of this monumental race, I felt a strong sense of belonging and had no doubt that I would complete it. I was fully aware that this would be one of the most physically demanding feats of my entire life.

As the clock crept closer to the start time, Ken Chlouber, the founder of the Leadville Trail 100 said with conviction, “You’re better than you think you are. You can do more than you think you can.” He followed that up with, “Dig deep into that inexhaustible well of grit, guts and determination. If all else fails, remember this one word – LEADVILLE.” This is classic Ken. It doesn’t seem as powerful in black and white text as it did hearing this incredible man with a storied past say it. 

Around this time, amid the confusion of 800 people lining up in the dark, my coach (Scott Jordan) found me. Since he knew that I had a tendency to start to fast, he suggested we run together the first few miles. Before long, the national anthem was being sung and then seemingly without much warning Ken fired his shotgun and we were literally off to the races.

My pulse is normally ridiculously low, but not right now. My heart is racing like I can’t remember as the pack of runners begins to steadily move out of downtown Leadville away from Harrison Avenue on Sixth Street. It doesn’t take long to get to the first hill – with nearly 18,000 feet of elevation gain expected over the course, there certainly would not be a shortage of hills!

Before long, we were on dirt trails and the pavement and crowds of Leadville seemed a world away. At a brief five miles outside of Leadville, we were approaching the Sugarloaf Dam end of the beautiful Turquoise Lake. This high-elevation lake is where the mountains of the Continental Divide drain into the Arkansas River Basin, which then empties water into Turquoise Lake. It is named due to the nearby turquoise-colored mineral deposits – the reminder that we are near mining is never far off. At this point, I hit a bit of a traffic jam on the single-track section. That’s OK though – I used the time to run at a steady pace and enjoy the first bit of dawn. It takes a while, but the congo line of runners picks their way all the way around the lake, which is a 6 or so mile section.

Just as the sun was peeking above the mountains, I exited the trail on the west end of the lake and hit the pavement headed up to the May Queen Aid Station at around 2 hours and 15 minutes into the race. The words of my coach echoed in my ear – never more than a minute at these aid stations or it adds up. I was in-and-out within about 30 seconds with my liquids topped off and ready to go!

As soon as I headed away from the aid station, I hit the Colorado Trail. This technical, uphill section is filled with loose gravel, boulders, and roots. The traffic jam was mostly gone now, and it was time to keep the pace up – this was the first challenging section. I moved through this section pretty quickly, but patience is paramount – this isn’t a half-marathon or marathon. When the trail got too technical or was really steep, I would stop and power-hike a bit. After a while, I make a right on Hagerman Pass Road – the gradient here is doable to run so I do. Looking back below me I see some beautiful views of Turquoise Lake below me and this wide gravel road makes for easy running after The Colorado Trail. I can see high-tension powerlines in the distance, which can only mean one thing – we are about to make a decent climb up to Sugarloaf Pass – the top of the infamous Powerline. I’ll have to climb Powerline at some point, but that will be much later in the race. Now, I get to descend it. 

On this section, I run into another Boundless Coach and friend Brad. We run the descent together both focused on getting to Outward Bound in a reasonable time. The descent is both steep and uneven – the trail is filled with rocks, erosion, and ditches. I want to make good time, but do not want to destroy my quads this early. Steady. Although I slide a few times, I am thankful that I don’t wipeout. I see two or three people take pretty nast spills as we descent the approximately 1,500’ to a paved road. I am thankful that Outward Bound (next aid station) is near and can’t wait to see my family and friends after nearly 4 ½ hours on the trail. I’m nearly a mountainous trail marathon in, but I’m just getting started. 

Running into Outward Bound, I see my son (John Harrison) and one of my pacers (John S.) waiting for me. They go crazy when they see me, and it gives my spirits a big lift. I run across the field and pass the official checkpoint and they lead me to my crew. Keeping in the mentality of Nascar Pit Crew, they have me back out in the course in a minute or so.

Leaving the aid station, I ran across a literal pasture – it is imperative to keep focused or a twisted ankle could end the day early. This is a bit of a challenge as I am trying to enjoy the scenery of Mount Elbert and Mount Massive – two of Colorado’s highest peaks – which tower around me. After running across the field, there is a paved section followed by a jeep road. This is a relatively easy, slightly uphill section of around 6 miles. I reach the next aid station (Half Pipe – almost 30 miles in) approximately one hour later and top off my bottles. 

I have run this next section (up Mount Elbert) before and know its about to get real. Half Pipe to Twin Lakes is a gnarly section of trail filled with single-track through the woods and quite a few decent climbs. The key here is to keep a decent pace and keep your legs fresh for Hope Pass. The sun is beating down on me for this entire nine-mile section and it will end up taking me about two hours. I am pretty disappointed that a listed aid station (Mount Elbert) is missing and there is no where to refill my water bottles – I deal with it though. Finally, the climbs are over and it is time for the quad-crushing descent into Twin Lakes. As I run into Twin Lakes, I realize my time is pretty good 7.5 hours and through with almost 40 miles of tough terrain. All-in-all I’ll take it!

In Twin Lakes, I took a bit longer at the aid station to make sure I had everything I needed – thankfully I did – without the essential items that I was checking I would likely have DNF’d. I made sure I had my trekking poles, headlamp (didn’t think I would need it, it was only 11:30 am after all!), rain gear, plenty of nutrition, extra water, and a water filter.

Leaving the Twin Lakes aid station, there is an easy run across a meadow. However, even though it is easy now, I clearly remember advice from many people who had to top out on this next section – the 25 +/- miles over Hope Pass to Winfield and back to Twin Lakes is enough to make grown men cry. This section is filled with challenging terrain and you are fully exposed to the elements. Even if you don’t give up on this section, you can easily ‘time out.’ In fact, this would happen to multiple friends and teammates before Hope Pass was done for us.

After crossing the meadow, you come to a cold, mountain river. There is a rope guideline across the river, which is there for safety reasons. It is fairly easy to navigate the river with the guideline, but impossible to keep your feet dry – that’s ok though – the snow-melt, cold water feels great and refreshing on my tore up feet.

With the famous pass looming above me, it’s time to start climbing. This is a good time to mention that when you are climbing a 3,400’ vertical pass, no one is actually running. Sure, you may run a hundred level or easy gradient yards here or there, but don’t get the idea that we are just charging up the side of the mountain – that is humanly impossible. Even David Goggins, Lance Armstrong, and the winner of the race have to respect the sheer size of this mountain. 

As I power-hike up the mountain, nausea starts to hit me. I feel like I’m moving way too slow and wonder why I am doing this. Even though I am regularly vomiting, I am thankful that my vomit doesn’t have blood in it like some other people I am seeing. This trail is absolutely brutal and I see more than one medically disqualified person on the way up – later I would find out there were several heart attacks and many medical disqualifications on the way up to Hope Pass. I was slow, very slow, but continued to make progress up. My legs screamed and I couldn’t hold down nutrition – at all. The heat was literally zapping my chances of finishing and I could feel the power leaving me. 

It felt like an eternity, but eventually I reach the treeline (around 12,000’) and know I am getting close to the Hopeless Aid station. The treeline seems like another planet where the air is too cold and thin for anything to grow. Here in the middle of nowhere is an aid station – how?! Llamas! In my opinion, this is quintessential Leadville. You have completed a huge challenge and both a treat and another challenge await. I refill my hydration and take a handful of M+Ms, which I try to eat. For athletes, it is imperative to take minimal time at Hopeless – you aren’t officially checked in yet – that happens almost a thousand feet up the mountain from here at the actual pass! I start climbing again and promptly throw up the M+Ms. 

Finally, I make it to the actual Hope Pass time check-in (cutoff based on this point) at an altitude of almost 13,000 above sea level. The view is heavenly. There are towering mountains all around me and I’m on top of one of them! These six challenging miles took me almost three hours so there isn’t time to enjoy the view – rather, it’s time to get down to Winfield (halfway point in this race). 

The descent to Winfield is no joke! I had done this section before, but knew enough to know that I need to be careful to avoid wiping out. While descending, I enjoyed the views of boulder fields, wildflowers, single-track trail, and mountains. The way down was not easy on the quad, but I would take it all day long over the brutal uphill sections I had just completed. At the bottom of Sheep Gulch Trail you hit the Continental Divide Trail, which takes you into Winfield. After all this, I was now halfway.

In Winfield, I don’t waste much time. Having done both sides of Hope Pass before, I know the climb I am about to do is actually much more difficult than the ‘front-side’ of Hope. Even though it is shorter, it is steeper. I try to eat, but the recurring stomach issues (nausea, vomiting) are still happening – I know this lack of nutrition is going to be a problem, but decide to keep pushing anyway. 

I retrace my steps and start back up Hope Pass. This steep gradient combined with fatigue, lack of fuel in my body, and the altitude, literally sucks the aire and life out of me. I try to look encouraging and happy as a few friends stumbling down the mountain towards Winfield pass. However, it was deflating to watch them – I know they won’t make it in time for the Winfield cutoff and there race and big goal is about to slip through their fingers.

I’m trying to make steady progress, but my legs quit working right. Thankfully, they weren’t full-on paralyzed and I could still take a step or two, but the mountain in front of me seemed insurmountable and my legs literally felt like lead. Surely, I had not come 54 miles to only come this far?! The heat was stifling and the vomiting wasn’t helping either. 

At the most perfect possible moment, my running coach passed me (I hadn’t really seen him since early in the race). He instructed me to sit near a stream for five minutes and drink some Hoist (similar to Gatorade) and choke some gels down. Although he indicated I needed to hurry and should set a five-minute timer, he said that without adding nutrients I would never make it. 

My throat was dry, but I followed Coach’s instructions and swallowed several gels. Next, I dipped my water bottle in the alpine stream and drank some of the best water I have ever tasted in my life before mixing up Hoist and refilling all of my bottles. In what felt like 10 seconds, the five-minute timer went off. I struggled to my feet and started to slowly, but steadily climb. The mountain peak felt elusive and impossible to achieve. However, eventually the progress began to pay off and I could see how far I had come. This was encouraging. Even above treeline, this climb felt like it would never end. 

I had never intended on being up here this long! I had made it to Hope Pass a second time though. In the distance, the sun was beginning to set. I knew I must hurry! It was about 7:15 pm and I had to be out of Twin Lakes (far from the top of this mountain) in less than three hours or my race was done. With my headlamp on and sunlight waning, I jogged down the trail, across the river, and eventually through the meadow to where CJ and John Harrison were waiting. I was 62.5 miles into the race and from this point forward the rules allowed me to have a pacer!

I was beyond excited about the pacers and adding to the excitement was that this break in Twin Lakes (inbound) was the only one of the whole race that we had planned for 10 minutes. After almost 150,000 steps, I sat down in a chair for the first time that day. Without either asking or expecting, John and CJ began massaging me, Catherine washed my feet and changed my shoes, and John Harrison fed me. 

This is a great time to talk about the importance of a sacrificial crew. My crew did not know when I would make it back, but waited patiently without complaining. They didn’t know that I would be nauseous and had just thrown up nearly two dozen times, but they had a plethora of calorie choices available. They anticipated every need and not only had the item there, but also had it ready to go and packed in my next pack. In order to have everything, they hauled gear, a cooler, and multiple duffel bags all around Colorado. 

We ended up taking closer to 15 minutes, but I was able to get a third of a hamburger down along with some pineapple and some Hoist. Even though this took way longer than I was hoping, I had made it. At this point in the race, a good portion of runners have already been awarded a DNF (Did Not Finish) status due to medical disqualification, timing out, or quitting due to some legitimate reason. I’m still rocking and rolling! I know that statistically and on paper I have made it through the hardest part of the race. The key to finishing the 100 miles at this point is a combination of steady progress and humility. There are still almost 40 miles to go and lots of uphill – finishing is far from certain. 

John Stock, a friend of mine and pacer, had an insane energy level. This energy was contagious and exactly what I needed as we trotted out of Twin Lakes ahead of the cutoff time. We take the steep initial trail out of Twin Lakes followed by a long (read miles) steady gradient out of Twin Lakes up Mount Elbert. During the climb, he was a mule for me (allowed by race rules) selflessly carrying my hydration pack and nutrition essentials. Most importantly, he was a constant voice of encouragement and affirmation. His wisdom to know when to point out a dropoff, say something wacky to make me laugh, ponder the meaning of the universe, or just cruise along in silence was exactly what I needed. 

Eventually, we popped out of the woods at the Mount Elbert aid station, which they had finally set up (it was missing earlier). In the darkness, the temperatures were cool and we kept cruising. We made pretty good time and got to Half Pipe (71 miles) before too long. We both topped off on nutrition and liquids and kept moving. The name of the game is don’t stop moving and John was perfect at this! 

A few miles down the trail from Half Pipe is an unofficial aid station. As we were running into this spot, I felt like I was hallucinating. In front of me was CJ, but I was hearing my last name called loudly at me from somewhere else. “ANGOTTI, ANGOTTI, OVER HERE!” When I looked to my right, I saw my good friends Steve S. and Ryan D. standing there. Even though I doubt it showed on my face, this was so exciting to me. These good friends had flown in to keep me going. No way I was going to let them and my family down! John and I pushed quickly out of there and headed to Outward Bound – it felt like an eternity since I had seen everyone here on my way out yesterday morning. 

Although it was the middle of the night, I was getting pretty stoked. I had traded out John S for CJ and he was going to pace me over to May Queen. I knew already that I was going to finish, but intellectually I was trying to approach this section with humility. It was the last section that could break me – the last big climb. 

A few miles after CJ and I headed out of Outward Bound (inbound), we were at the base of the daunting last climb. I remembered a webinar where an insanely talented runner recounted how this climb 80 miles in broke him. Thanks to his webinar wisdom and having seen it a few times in the day now, I knew exactly what I was dealing with – a soul-breaking climb.

The path to the last major summit (Sugarloaf Pass) is not easy and will gain about 1,500 feet. In the dark, CJ and I could see vomit all over the trail from runners that had either pushed through or been DNF casualties. Up ahead, the summit we could see was not actually the top – one of the psychological challenges with this climb is there are four false summits on Powerline. I don’t remember much on this section to be honest other than we pushed as hard as we could. My body felt broken, but I knew we were going to make it. 

At one point, CJ asked what I wanted to talk about. My answer? I told him to just talk and keep me entertained, but between the lack of oxygen, fatigue, and my sore throat (been breathing dust in well over 24 hours) that I couldn’t talk. He handled it like a champ and he and I bonded as he told me stories about his Dad (now deceased) and filled the silence. We even experienced a hallucination-like area of the mountain (called Space Station) at the peak of Powerline – I’ll never forget that climb together.

After Space Station, we started our descent. I remember gazing at sky filled with stars and feeling incredibly alive and grateful. What a feeling! There were even several shooting stars and I was grateful to have such a good friend with me for this experience. 

The Colorado Trail, which seemed both runnable and technical on the way out, felt like walking on banana peels on the way in. Without trekking poles and CJ pointing treacherous spots out, I would have definitely wiped out. I felt like my brain wasn’t working right, and like my legs were wobbly. Later, my friend Ryan would state that I looked as if I had slammed a fifth of Tequila as I staggered in from this Colorado Trail section. I’m sure CJ felt like he was watching out for a drunk friend as my coordination was simply gone. This section ended at the last official aid station – May Queen inbound.

I switched pacers here and John S helped encourage me and paced me around Turquoise Lake. For the second time in one non-stop race, I got to see the sunrise. As the sun came up, I felt more awake and generally aware – I stopped slipping as much and I was concentrating on making it around the lake to where my son was ready to pace me. Finally, we got to Sugarloaf Dam where Ryan, Steve, Catherine, CJ, and John H (son) were waiting for me.   

John Harrison and I start down the trail – I know this is the last leg of an important journey and I am so glad he is there. He says exactly the right thing and the right time many times. He keeps me motivated and shows wisdom pacing me that is  well beyond his fourteen years.

As we make one of the final turns, my son was asking me a question, but I can’t speak. My throat is too raw from breathing in trail dust for almost 100 miles of running – thankfully the finish line was nearly certain and getting near. 

As we exited the trail onto pavement, I could see my pacers (John Stock and CJ Stam), Catherine, and my good friends Steve and Ryan start cheering. Per the race rules, my crew and friends could finish the last mile with me.

As we crested a hill, the finish line was in sight, but about half a mile away. Although I felt like I was running fast, I knew intellectually and my Garmin watch confirmed that I was actually moving at a slow jog. It was the fastest I could possibly move. Before long, I crossed the finish line.

Then, Merilee (race founder), hung a medal around my neck and let me know that I can stop running.

Following the race, multiple people were stunned that I had pushed through that back side of Hope Pass. My coach said,  “I saw Angotti ‘dead man crawling’ up from Winfield and sat him under a tree to eat n drink. He is like Lazarus and just rose up and flew in.” Another good friend texted, “Angotti rose like a phoenix from the ashes coming back up The backside of Hope!”

Why did I do this race? I have a fear of being ordinary. I want to be extraordinary.

Extraordinary. For me, for my children. That is my goal.

Extraordinary.

The post Leadville 100: The Race Across The Sky appeared first on DavidAngotti.com.

The email included a cherished photograph, which she mentioned was her most treasured worldly possession. The photograph has no actual monetary value – it is simply a photo of a young family enjoying one of our town’s attractions. The photo that Mary sent me is above.

It has been over forty years, but this is not a forgotten memory. This snapshot is much more than a photo – it is a portal to the happiest time of her life.

She was a young mother and new wife. Time has slipped away and she is now advanced in years. Her husband has passed away and her daughter is grown with children of her own. The memory is real, it is vivid.

She has this memory because of dream makers. Dream makers built an attraction, hosted her young family, and gave them an incredible time. She clings to this memory now.

This email exchange got me thinking – what am I doing to ensure dreams and memories are being made? It is easy to put heads in beds, but I must do more. I will be a dream maker. I will help as many people like Mary as possible.

When people vacation, they are escaping reality. The average person will work 30+ days at a job for every day of vacation they take each year. Why do people vacation? The dream of breaking out of the mold of the norm and experiencing the exceptional for a period of time.

Exceptional family time. Beautiful memories. Experiences that will stand out in their mind decades from now. Dream fulfilled. This is why people vacation.

I used to believe our industry provided exceptional lodging for travelers.  I was wrong. This is a lie. Our industry creates dreams. People aren’t renting homes from us – they are buying dreams.

Life passes quickly. Individually and collectively we have the ability to make the world a better place. Our companies assist in the creation of precious memories. As an industry, we have the ability to make dreams come true.

Don’t settle. Don’t just rent out properties. Be exceptional.

Don’t minimize your role. You are not a reservationist. You are not a marketer. You are not the property manager. Your job is to make dreams come true and create memories.

You are the dream maker!

The post Stop Selling Amenities. Be A Dream Maker! appeared first on DavidAngotti.com.

We immediately understood the aircraft systems impact was significant and included issues with steering, brakes, landing gear, and flaps. So that we could find an airport with emergency services and better understand the issue, my copilot and I aborted the landing and started climbing back to safe altitude.

With lightning in the distance and only a few hundred feet between us and the ground, I felt a tap on my shoulder. It was the governor. “What’s going on? Are we still going to be able to land?” Understanding that he was an aviator himself, I calmly responded – “Do you want to die tonight?” He quickly indicated that he did not. I then told him to please sit down, make sure everyone else stays seated, and use his leadership to keep the people calm. He did exactly this.

When the entirely unexpected happens, the recipe for success can be elusive. However, during my time as a pilot and in business, I have found the following ingredients helpful:

1. Prioritization:
Yes, the Governor was paying for the flight. He is one of the most important people in the State of Tennessee. He deserves an answer. However, none of that takes priority over his and the other passengers safety. An unconscious, quick prioritization exercise made it apparent that a conversation with him could wait.

2. Teamwork:
With a high-profile client onboard delayed and changing destinations, we needed to update the State Troopers and his on-the-ground security/transportation. However, we had our hands full with a ton of checklists (see below) that had to be executed accurately. Instead of overloading ourselves and potentially missing a critical item, we leveraged Air Traffic Control – they have a direct line to law enforcement and they were able to appropriately elevate the situation quickly and without any effort.

3. Processes:
Landing without brakes and without flaps can be a big deal. You need a much longer runway and have to consider additional failures. What caused the total hydraulic failure (this means we had two separate, redundant hydraulic systems fail!) and what else might fail? The checklists, which are created by the aircraft engineers, aviation safety experts, and experienced pilots, help guide you through an established process to maximize the chance of success. Oftentimes, in business it is similar – make a process on the best day and apply it on the worst to increase the chances of a positive outcome.

4. Training/Expertise:
We can’t be good at everything in life, but our training will ultimately determine how we react in stressful, time sensitive situations. The life-and-death decisions that a pilot makes during an emergency should have been set up well long before. The aggregate of all training and experience in the classroom, simulator, and flying the line equate to quick recognition, diagnosis, and reaction when it is required.

5. Stacking – Avoid the Snowball
This ties closely to several of the other points above. The idea here is we have to start solving problems quickly to avoid a ‘stacking’ effect. For example, one problem we had right away was that we were close to the ground. Until we solved that problem, it was going to take a ton of concentration and could exponentially multiply other issues we were facing (i.e. flaps not retracting). On the other hand, once we had altitude and airspeed, the flaps weren’t a big deal. A wet runway (in Jackson) was a huge deal without breaks and emergency services, but as soon as we decided to divert to Nashville International that was no longer an issue. Do your best to ‘unstack’ ASAP when you are faced with an insurmountable problem. If you freeze up, additional items will quickly start to stack.

Thankfully, after Ned (my copilot) and I ran through the checklists, communicated the emergency with ATC, and navigated to Nashville International, the evening ended with no damage to the aircraft and everyone made it home safely. In addition, the Tennessee State Troopers and ATC had coordinated beautifully and the Governor’s transportation and security detail were standing by and ready for him.

Aviation does a great job of applying the above principles each day – if we do this in our business, positive results are nearly guaranteed.

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Leadville, Colorado is a gritty and determined mining town. At one time, the gold and silver lined hills surrounding this town boosted the population of this town to the point it was the second most populated town in the State of Colorado. People willing to risk everything threw caution to the wind in pursuit of a better life. A few struck gold and silver, but Inevitably the failures outnumbered the successes. Now, abandoned mines litter the hillside and the town’s population has dwindled to less than 3,000 people.

As interesting as Leadville’s past is, I wasn’t there to study history. In a moment of insanity, I had signed up for the most difficult 50-mile run in the United States. While quarantining during COVID-19, I had read a fascinating book about the near superhuman indigenous people group the Tarahumara Indians who ran in the Leadville race series. The book had described this race in detail and I instantly knew I had to do it.

The ‘Race Across The Sky’ as the Leadville race has been dubbed is a pain-inducing, ultra-marathon that follows mountain trails, dry creek beds, and winding roads over the summits of the Rocky Mountains. 10,200’ will be about the lowest elevation of the course – in fact, during the race it will gain an astounding 8,000’+ of elevation.

What am I doing up here? As I sit at the starting line, a bit of imposter syndrome sets in. I don’t belong here. I am surrounded by nearly 500 elite athletes and approximately 100 of them are sponsored or professional. It’s too late to check out – my family is here and my friends know I’m racing. However, if I’m honest, I’m scared I won’t finish… or worse. I’m not a professional. I’m a business owner, Dad, husband, Type I diabetic, and many other things, but I am not an elite athlete. I have trained religiously for over a year, but it turns out Nashville sits at less than 600′ above sea level and here I am two miles up.

Before I can talk myself out of racing, there is a ceremony followed by a loud shotgun blast marking the start of the race. The race begins at 6:00 am sharp just as the sun is peaking out from behind the surrounding mountains. The start of the race is an intense run up a snow tubing and ski hill named Dutch Henri Hill. As I feel people pushing behind me, I pick up the pace being careful not to trip on a boulder or step in a hole – I don’t need a twisted ankle to start out fifty miles. The crazy incline combined with the elevation has my lungs burning immediately. 

To give you an idea of how sadistic the race course is, the run up the hill does not count towards the overall mileage or time. Yup, that’s right – this sprint up a snow tubing hill is just for fun. The official start line is at the top of the hill. As I pass the official start of the race, I see another racer dry-heaving on the side of the course.

Now, that we are officially underway, I find my stride and rhythm. I’m pacing just fine and the training kicks in. The burning sensation from Dutch Henri hill subsides and the miles start to tick by. The long climbs are rewarded by stunning scenery that is breathtaking. As the feet keep churning, I realize I’m nearing the second aid station at mile 14 where I will get to see my wife and son for the first time (Printer Boy Outbound Station).

The elevation gradients during the race are straight-up insane. Running fifty miles at sea-level without steep gradients would be exponentially easier than this race. Leaving Printer Boy outbound, the halfway point came into focus and became my singular goal. However, the crazy uphill gradients I faced in this section included steep gradients with boulders all over the trail. Finally, while cresting a ridge, I could see the halfway point! Before long, I hit the turn-around point and then had the chance to see Catherine and John Harrison.

Upon reaching the course halfway point, I was feeling great and excited to be pacing well ahead of course cutoff times! Hopefully I wouldn’t need it, but having over two hours of time cushion meant course cutoffs were no longer a concern. At this point, I was pacing well ahead of my minimum goal and I knew my goal of finishing the race could only be stopped by an injury or lack of mental stamina.

Within a mile of leaving Stumptown, you are met with some steep climbs. You begin the arduous task of retracing the 25 miles you just ran. In the top right of the photo above, you can see a faint trail weaving down the mountains – this is the trail that ultimately has to be run, but has a bunch of ridges, streams, and boulders to cross on the way!

The first 25 miles had felt great! However, between 27 and 30 miles that great feeling was evaporating. By the time I passed the 30 miles mark, any semblance of fun was long-gone. I kept pushing knowing that the 36 mile station was relatively close and I would get to see my family there.

Coming in to the mile Printer Boy inbound aid station (36 miles) I see my wife and son. If they hadn’t been there, I’m not sure I would have finished. However, I wanted John Harrison to know it is important to chase big goals and finish what you start. I was happy to see them, but knew I couldn’t stop for long or I would not finish. They helped me refill my water bottles and I was off with lots of time to spare.

At approximately mile 38, I was in the middle of a beautiful climb with vivid colors all around and a blue sky overhead. However, the scenery is not so captivating while stomach is doing flip-flops and I’m concerned that the nearest restroom is miles away. Within a matter of minutes, I scurry to the trailside and upchuck the electrolytes I have been desperately trying to hold down. 

Even as I’m throwing up, I can’t help but stand in awe of the surrounding mountains – this truly is the most beautiful place I have ever thrown up.

Although it doesn’t help in the moment, I know my experience is not unique – I have passed lots of people in the same predicament. Managing nutrition is one of the biggest challenges for any ultra-endurance athlete, but the balance becomes even more delicate for a Type I diabetic.

Even an insanely talented Type I diabetic like Robin Arazon (VP and Head Instructor for Peloton) can have great difficulty managing the balance. My race ‘equipment’ includes an insulin pump, Dexcom CGM, blood glucose meter, and glucose tablets/gels. Early in the race my numbers had gone crazy and there were lots of finger sticks to ensure that delicate balance between hyperglycemia and hypoglycemia was properly balanced. The vomiting I just experienced greatly increased my chance of dehydration and could severely mess up my blood glucose numbers so I force myself to rehydrate and eat electrolyte chews hoping to hold them down.

Before the race, I would have thought that when I reached 38 out of 50 miles I would be almost done. In the moment I try to convince myself of this, but my emotions will have none of that. It may be less than a half-marathon from the finish line, but it feels like 1,000 miles away. I throw up again and wonder if my electrolytes are too out of balance to finish the race. I know how dangerous it can be to push too hard and wonder if I should quit. No one could blame me, right?

At this exact moment, a motivational speech I have heard so many times I have it memorized plays in my ear – “You didn’t come this far to only come this far.” I push forward. Oftentimes, the people who can push that last little bit separate from the rest of the pack. I remember the 95% rule and think about how that applies to so many areas of life.

The race has an elite planning committee and superstar volunteers and I benefit from this at each aid station. The volunteers anticipate your exact needs and get you in and out in a matter of minutes. This last aid station is no exception – the volunteers instinctively know the nutritional needs of runners and hand us exactly what we need. They handed me potato chips knowing that the salt was what I needed and the bland taste would be doable. They handed the guy I was running with a coke. Another person in dire need of fluids was pulled aside and encouraged to stop for a while.

Leaving the last aid station, each painful step brought me closer to the finish line and the final miles start to tick by. Honestly, most of these last miles are a bit of blurry. I do remember the intense feeling in my quads – they were burning so bad by this point I found myself preferring uphill over downhill. Mercifully, the gradients were manageable for the last ten miles or so.

The highlight of a 50-mile off-road run is definitely my son waiting for me near the finish line. I’m in pain, but seeing him and the finish line instantly re-energizes me. He high-fives me and falls in step with me. We descend a steep hill together and the euphoria of the moment is incredible. There is a red carpet in front of me and I cross the finish line with my arm around my son as an announcer calls my name of a loudspeaker.

I am not an elite athlete, but I do have discipline, perseverance, grit, and determination. It turns out, these things are enough. Before we even left the finish line, I found myself plotting ways to improve my finish time next year. However, within 30 minutes these thoughts had faded and I clocked out for a 12 hour nights sleep.

The post A Beautiful Place To Throw Up appeared first on DavidAngotti.com.

The last time I shopped here I had to put the ground beef back. Not this time. This 2002 fall afternoon had been challenging and this small win was exactly what I needed.

During flight school at Airline Training Academy, I worked six nights per week at Steak n’ Shake from 11 pm to 7 am as a server trying to make ends meet. Unfortunately, no matter what I did, there always seemed to be too much month at the end of the money. The reality is I was tired, broke, and years away from that changing.

When you’re a poor aviation student learning to fly during the day, serving tables all night at Steak n’ Shake, and studying every free moment, life is not easy. Some of the richer students I knew were busy binge drinking on the weekends. Not me, I was binge sleeping trying to make up for the missed nights. Life was tough, but I was learning valuable lessons.

In addition to serving tables, I worked a second job at an aircraft paint shop. I would hand sand the paint around the rivets that the orbital sanders could not reach. The hanger did not have air-conditioning and I’m pretty sure the paint dust I was breathing in wasn’t EPA or OSHA approved.

In exchange for the long hours in that hot hanger sanding away, I got free flight time. This was the same as hundred dollar bills for me. For an aspiring pilot, flight time is how you land jobs. I was trying to move forward.

The work paid off, but I also know I have been fortunate (see Lie #2 here). I was the second-youngest hire in history at NetJets flying the elite on a $20M private jet, founded and exited an education technology company by the age of 30, and grew and exited a multi-million-dollar travel brand by 36. It has been a wild ride and one I am thankful for.

Back when I was broke, I worried about money for my car payment, food, rent, and utilities. Fast-forward nearly twenty years – I swipe the credit card at the airport for a $14.97 breakfast without giving any thought to whether or not the transaction will clear. This is clearly a luxury.

I turn to my travel companion and say, “The credit card cleared, I’m blessed.” He thinks I’m joking, but I’m not.

There is money in the account. That worry has been removed. I am blessed.

The post The Credit Card Cleared. I’m Blessed. appeared first on DavidAngotti.com.

On a random 1987 summer day, I wanted to purchase some watermelon flavored Jolly Ranchers. However, at the ripe age of seven years, I had a cash flow issue preventing me from purchasing the heavenly candy creations. Unlike my friends, I did not receive an allowance. I could earn money, but I would not be given money. At the time, the lack of an allowance seemed to place me at a distinct disadvantage, but I would later realize it was actually the beginning of my entrepreneurial spirit.

Out of a ‘need’ for candy, an idea for my first business was quickly formed using available resources. It was not unlike a freak show at a circus – I would charge my friends to watch my brother eat dog food.

My brother Jonathan, who was two at the time, would be fairly compensated for his role in the business. I would purchase him two Blow-Pops and Jolly Rancher. Casey, our Cocker Spaniel, would donate a bowl of Purina Kibbles n’ Bits.

With minimal marketing, word quickly spread about a dog food eating show at my house. The 30 or so kids that lived nearby were interested, but I was running into difficulty converting a high level of interest into actual ticket sales.

At the age of seven, I had never heard of the psychological Sales Principle of Scarcity or fully understand how it worked, but I quickly made a decision to limit the show to ten tickets. From playing neighborhood games, I knew everyone hated to miss out on fun things and was motivated to falsely created a supply and demand curve. This guaranteed my venture’s success. After limiting the tickets, my friends ran home to get money to watch the show – I quickly sold out the ten seats.

The lucky few that had managed to procure a ticket before the event sold out filed into my parents’ garage and we shut the garage door excluding the rest of the neighborhood kids. My brother got on all fours and began to eat dog food like a dog. The crowd comprised of kids around my age roared with laughter and generally felt like this was a great value for the $0.25 admission price.

Then, an amazing thing happened. Jonathan started to look sick. Really sick. Projectile vomit sick. For a moment, I felt awful, but then I realized I had a secondary monetization opportunity. I told everyone that the show was over, but that for an additional quarter they could stay and watch my brother throw up. 100% of the audience felt this was a good value and my gross revenue on the venture doubled.

My brother kept eating and then spewed vomit all over the place. The audience cheered and felt like the show had generally exceeded their expectations. I was fearful that my brother would rat me out, so I agreed to double his pay if he agreed not to tell my parents.

Life was good. We had some good laughs as we skate boarded over to the Egg Ranch and stocked up on candy. Since my brother got twice the candy he was expecting, he was happy. The business was a success.

I was super-stoked. This was a business that could be monetized different ways. The problem? My best friend’s Mom ratted me out. Evidently, when Jimmy excitedly told his parents about the incredible show, there was some concern about my brother’s well-being.

An unknown factor came into play and the new business was gone. This early venture taught me much about business, psychology, risk, and what it means to have the entrepreneurial spirit.

The entrepreneurial spirit is a mindset. It is not being able to quote textbook definitions of economic concepts. Instead, it is a problem-solving attitude and approach that innovates, adapts, and solves problems. Outside factors are constantly being applied and new opportunities will be presented.

Be different. Be ready. Seize the moment.

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“I’m not racist, but I don’t really want to rent my home to Hispanics.”

How could they say this? The older man that said this is African American and knows first-hand what discrimination feels like. In my mind, he is a hero that lived through one of the toughest and darkest times in our country’s history and prevailed to be a successful black businessman against all odds. I had always thought of him as a great warrior in the fight against racism. His words couldn’t be true.

At this point, I wish I could tell you that I had the courage to stand up against the racism. That is not true. I am embarrassed to say that I sat there in shock and did not say a word.

In a recent study conducted at Brigham Young University, Howard J. Ross, the lead researcher, renowned author of Everyday Bias, and an economics professor at BYU said, “Human beings are consistently, routinely and profoundly biased.” He went on to say, “This is one of the most insidious things about bias. People may absorb these things without knowing them.”  

These are profound words. We likely do not realize our own biases. However, we police ourselves and ignorantly walk around assuming that we are not biased or racist. These biases are moral blind spots and are a reality whether or not we acknowledge them. Unless we confront this ugly truth, we will never make progress.

OK, what does this have to do with vacation rentals? Our biases as individual people groups and a collective industry are resulting in discrimination (intentional and unintentional) against people that are different than ourselves.

Wil Reynolds, a friend of mine and successful businessman, is African American. Our company has been a client of his digital advertising agency. I can personally attest that Wil’s character and integrity are impeccable – even when it was not easy. I know this man and can confidently tell you that he and his family are ideal renters.

Wil recently wrote an article about how he was discriminated against while trying to book an airbnb. The headline of his post grabbed my attention and sums up a huge issue we are facing as an industry:

No matter how much success you have you’re still a scary black man to some people.

If you work in the vacation rental industry, do yourself a favor and read the article. This stuff is real and not three degrees of separation removed. One degree. It happened to someone I know and respect. The host literally agreed to rent to Wil’s wife (she’s white) and not to him.

I believe the situations above, which are more common than you may realize, highlight the need for automatic bookings and approval in the vacation rental industry. However, many property managers are vehemently opposed to this idea.

These property owners and managers believe that without the manual ‘vetting’ and approving of guests, that they will lose control of their units. Due to what they believe is an impeccable ability to sniff out a ‘problem guest,’ they cannot stand the idea of a review system or machine learning model qualifying the guest.

There is a major flaw with this theory. That gut feeling we get when we evaluate a guest – is it accurate? Is it based on our bias? More importantly, is it even possible to know?

In employment law, there is a legal doctrine known as Disparate Impact Discrimination. The basic idea is that discrimination can unintentionally occur. A policy that at face-value appears to be neutral can accidentally discriminate against a protected people class.

For example, if your company uses a certain test to qualify applicants and minority applicants are disproportionately impacted, that is Disparate Impact Discrimination. The court system will not care that the intent of the test was to qualify applicants. Instead, it will focus on the unintentional discrimination.

What in the world does Disparate Impact Discrimination have to do with vacation rentals?

Simple. Some of us still choose to manually approve each guest after ‘vetting’ or ‘qualifying’ the guest. When we do this, we may unintentionally discriminate against a guest. I am not a lawyer, but I do believe racism (including unintentional) will prove to be a legal and PR issue for our industry in the near term.

We must put our heads together and ensure that both unintentional and intentional racism and discrimination are fiercely opposed within our industry.

The post An Old Problem For A Young Industry appeared first on DavidAngotti.com.

To experience huge success, put in 1% more effort. This small incremental change will produce exponential results!

Our culture loves the idea of finisher medals, trophies for Little League losers, and awarding improvement. That’s fine for Little League tournaments, but extremely dangerous for a business.

While the idea of only giving something a little more effort to achieve results is quite appealing, it is a bold-faced lie. Don’t believe it. The problem is you aren’t competing with yourself. You are competing with the free market and the best companies in the world. 

Measuring your performance against your own past performance makes the assumption that you are operating in a closed ecosystem and only competing with yourself. In reality, the free market is brutal and there are other companies that are likely outperforming you by a gigantic margin.

A slightly better version of yourself is only a good thing if you are already the best or striving to become the best with many incremental changes.

However, if you slightly tweak the false statement above, it is foundational and 100% true. The following is absolutely true:

To experience huge failure, underperform your best competition by 1%. This small failure will produce catastrophic results.

This news is depressing. Here we were thinking that with just a tiny bit of effort, one small and incremental change was the secret to our success. The lie is appealing. But, if you actually apply real life use cases, it is clearly a lie.

100% + 1% ≠Success

• A presidential primary candidate is in last place out of eight candidates and is only garnering 1% of the available votes – a 1% incremental improvement will only produce a total of 1.01% of the vote. This small improvement will ensure a handy loss come Super Tuesday.
• A travel startup is operating at an unsustainable cash burn rate of $2M per month and will exhaust their recent Series C funding round in sixty days. A 1% improvement in the unsustainable budget will result in them going out of business 5 hours later – not exactly an ideal result.
• A 42 year-old man has saved nothing for retirement, but decides to do 1% better. He is now saving $30 per month (1% of his income). He won’t ever be able to retire.
• A Hilton Hotel is performing extremely poorly due to being over-priced by $50 per night compared to the equivalent Marriott Hotel. They lower prices by $0.50 (1% improvement from previous over-priced position) and continue to lose 100% of bookings to Marriott.
• A father of two kids works every weekend and wants to be a better dad. He commits to do 1% better and now he spends time with his family one weekend every two years. His family still feels neglected and this isn’t any better.

If we apply a little bit of logic, we can see what we actually need to do. Consider a swimming pool filled with algae – a 1% increase in chlorine will have zero impact. In fact, the only way to regain control of your pool and enjoy summer days with crystal clear waters is a big change.

To eliminate the algae, you may need to “shock” your pool with 5-10 pounds of chlorine. This is more than double the amount of chlorine that is already in the water. Oftentimes, if the pool is completely out of control, you may have to shock it more than once.

I love the term shock. If our personal lives or business is struggling, it is not unlike a pool filled with algae – we need to shock it. A small 1% change will produce lackluster (or no) results.

What area do you or your business need to improve in? How do you plan to up your game 100% and produce the shock that is necessary to produce positive results?

The news that this is going to take considerable effort is likely unwelcome. However, you can use it to your advantage. In the real world, the following statement is an absolute truth:

The individual or company that does 1% better than the most formidable competition will oftentimes achieve 100% of the benefit.

Examples of Winning By 1% & the Benefits

• A presidential candidate that wins the swing state by one vote is the president. The loser does not receive 49.999% of the power – they receive none.
• When the clock runs out, the Superbowl team with one more point is the world champion. The losing team is not a co-champion or receive a slightly smaller ring.
• If two identical houses are listed for sale, the one that is priced 1% lower than the other will sell first. None of the proceeds go to the runner-up.

If doing a tiny bit better isn’t good enough in the harsh reality of the free market, what do we do? I’m glad you asked.

1. Identify your supreme competition and most formidable opponents.
2. Determine the reasons for the most significant areas in which they are out-performing you.
3. Understand the metrics that equal 1% greater than their current position.
4. Evaluate if there is a time-sensitivity element where 101% is worthless on some future date.
5. Hustle and grind until your effort produces 101% in each area.

Now, hopefully we understand that singing Kumbaya with tiny biz changes won’t be enough. I challenge you to implement and succeed with the above formula!

The post Dangerous Business Lie: 1% More Effort Key To Success appeared first on DavidAngotti.com.