One of the advantages of spending years auditing organizations is that you develop a fairly good sense of how things are going to unfold.

As I laboured through the opening kilometres of the Course des Pompiers, I found myself again contemplating one of life's great unanswered questions: where exactly is the line between stubborn and stupid?

There are races where you chase a personal best, or meaning, or redemption. Sulphur Springs 2026 was firmly in the third category.

Back by popular demand, here's another list of lessons I would convey to my 20 year-old self.

Most runners spend months training and obsessing over fitness so they can successfully complete an endurance race. I’ve got a completely different system these days: I run endurance races to get back into shape.

The older I get, the more I realize how much stuff I got wrong over the years. If I could sit down with my 20-year old self, here is a brief list of lessons I would convey.

I crossed the finish line for the last time as the sun was coming up. Exhausted, cold, and drenched in sweat again, I stood at the finish for longer than necessary, partly because I was so proud to have endured, but also because I wasn’t entirely sure how many more similar mornings I had left in me.

Every January, I run a race to fend off the winter blues and atone for my errant December behaviour. For the past three years, this ritual took me to Red Rock Canyon in Nevada. This year, however, I decided to spend my money elsewhere and entered the Bermuda Triangle Challenge.

Every entrepreneur knows the feeling: you have an idea so brilliant, so revolutionary, so clearly destined to change the world, that you start to parent it. You name it. You design a logo. You whisper to it at night like it’s a newborn. And this is where things go horribly wrong.

Like many entrepreneurs, I often feel lonely, which is a weird confession coming from someone who can talk to a brick wall and have an engaging time. I’m not some tragic recluse brooding over spreadsheets in the dark.