Here it is…my update so far. How’s your progress coming along?

Here’s our annual family Thanksgiving video, I hope each of you are having a fantastic day.

Happy Thanksgiving, from the Raz Family!

A symphony. Specifically a conductor of a symphony.

I didn’t think it’d pique my interest, but two minutes turned into five into ten turned into the 23 minute lesson which I’ve thought about quite a few times this evening.

It’s a great lesson. Entertaining. Thought provoking. Educational. Inspirational. Convicting. I think in each of us there are these various styles of leadership that rest within, but for some certain styles are more natural. This was such a unique glance at leadership, and it underscores to me the importance of the principle taught within the mini-lecture, but also how critical leadership is in every environment.

23 minutes. Yeah, it’s a long video for the Web. But, really, it’s a fantastic leadership lesson, and one I never thought I’d hear from a conductor of a symphony. Enjoy.

When I was growing up, in middle school, I wanted a skateboard. Not just a kinda-wanna, I mean I REALLY wanted one. Badly. All my buddies had them, the cool kids were always out in sidewalks of Jones Middle School doing tricks, finding a half pipe somewhere to ride on. I remember reading boarding magazine after magazine, following Tony Hawk and his rise to skateboarding stardom, and all the while I’d circle VERY VISIBLY the exact wheels, binders, ribs, and board that I wanted throughout the magazines as I read (it had to be a custom creation, it was a very specific set up), just in case my parents were trying to figure out what I wanted for my birthday or for Christmas and stumbled upon one of my many magazines and thumbed through it. It was just like the scene out of “A Christmas Story” when that little kid wants a BB gun for the holidays–a borderline obsession.

But, unlike “A Christmas Story” after year went by and the skateboard never came. In fact, my parents wouldn’t let me buy one either and this was one of the “you’ll buy that over my dead body” topics.

Same situation as the motorcycle coveting that happened years later (so I bought one secretly in college with a roommate of mine, who actually proceeded to wreck the thing literally five minutes after we were handed the keys. Sorry Thom, I know you won’t live that one down, but it was a good way to christen it and you helped validate all the fears my parents had over a period of many years about motorcycle ownership within a matter of micro seconds of getting on that thing).

Tonight, my youngest daughter Zoe, opened up her final b-day gift from the weekend. It arrived today from my parents, and I’ll admit I was more than a little surprised when she popped that thing open and out appeared…

…a Tutu?

…Hairbands?

…a Personal Organizer?

…Veggie Tale videos?

No, instead she opened up a box about two feet long–and I could see the sparkle in her eye as she picked it up, and when her little hands were ripping apart the box and her voice was quivering with excitement it was with a duality of emotions when I watched her pull out…

A very rad Hannah Montana skateboard. The very thing she’s been talking about for the last year.

Just like I wanted growing up (though I’m not sure having Hannah Montana on my board would’ve been okay). While I was so happy for her and it was so much fun to see her delight, and this might sound a bit strange, but there was a bit of me that was quite melancholy about it. Certainly I wasn’t envious, I don’t dwell and live in the past (and certainly couldn’t get hung up over not having a skateboard as a kid, only to see mine get one), but perhaps it was the reality that the roles change over time. And I’d become more like them, and they had become more like me.

I was opposed (but, clearly overridden ) to Zoe getting the skateboard. Probably all the things that went through my parents mind went through mine. So tonight’s memory was a surprising reminder of the roles and environment that changes over time. It was also a simple, even silly perhaps, perspective about the ways we can be molded by others and our risk envelope is pushed; my desire for Zoe not to have a skateboard was not fully a principled one (if it were she really wouldn’t have gotten one), but instead it was more a preference (that, beginning with my wife, didn’t agree with).

So, Zoe, enjoy that skateboard. I’m glad I got pushed a bit to let you have the joy (and probably a few scrapes and bruises) that only a skateboard can provide. And, I’ll enjoy watching you enjoy it–in fact, when you’re not watching, I might secretly take it out for a few joy rides around the neighborhood half-pipe. Who said it’s too old to relive your childhood, even if it’s your children that help to bring you back?

I used to hear someone constantly repeat this expression of “slowing down to the speed of wisdom.” I’m not sure why I disliked that saying so much, but I did. Maybe it was the way it was said (with a tad–a heaping and overfloweth tad–of self-righteousness), perhaps it just sounds so consultant-speake, and, quite likely, I don’t like slowing down TOO much (though there is, of course, great wisdom and insight that’s generated when you just stop and think; it’s all about balance).

Actually, as I write, I realize it isn’t the latter–it’s the first thing that irritated me. So there’s wisdom in slowing down. But this entry is about speeding up. Not just keeping up, but moving ahead.

There’s a great video on YouTube that speaks so visibly to the speed of technology, and it’s transformative effect on how we interact and connect. It’s not that the takeaway is that you should be on MySpace (though apps similar, like Facebook, are  really powerful connection tools). I think there’s something inherent in this that relates to market leadership that requires a Web 2.0 level of communication, connectivity, and speed.

And it’s not about slapping an iPhone application up for your business, or creating a Facebook page–though those both might be good idea. It’s more systemic than that, a more transformative change and cadence that’s rippled throughout our environment, in a way that some people don’t even realize. This has nothing to do with hard work, but the connectivity and speed at which people can work–together, and apart, and how that can create in you a new level of leadership position. There’s a great quote whose author I can’t remember, but it probably dates back five years ago (pre Facebook evolution)–so it’s more applicable today than ever before.

“It’s no longer the big who eat the small, but the fast who eat the slow.”

Today I’m reposting a video from a year ago as we prepare for a really exceptional event in Seattle NEXT WEEK! 

June 26th and 27th (though the 70′s celebration band/bash starts on Thursday night the 25th, as well as some great workshops earlier that afternoon) we’re going to be celebrating Univera’s 10th year anniversary, learning from the best of the best in business building which includes some great keynotes from Paul Zane Pilzer, Neil Offen (Prez of DSA), and Tim Sales. 

There’s personal development with Taylor Hartman and others, a deep reach into our culture where we’ll talk about the great work being done by Serve First and other volunteerism projects, some evening comedic relief with Michael Junior, and a lot of fabulous workshops. 

This entire event is focused on…getting all of us the next level.

Professionally (get to the next rank!), physically (run or walk the 5k, eat healthier!), and culturally (let’s increase contributions to the children needing nourishment, and give more time!). 

So in honor of next weeks event, and all the merits in coming to Seattle, I’m reposting a video that I made last year which is a plug for all the great reasons to come to Convention to experience the amazing city of Seattle. 

Keep in mind SOME of the content is outdated. For example, the dates themselves.

And the theme, though you can still “Dream, Achieve, Live” if you want to. 

But, there are even more benefits to the program we’re putting on this year for you and your business, and all the virtues of coming to Seattle are still alive and well. So, come and enjoy–and I look forward to celebrating with you soon.

I think one of the challenges in being a leader (in many capacities: work, home, volunteerism, friends) is to know how hard, and when, to push. It’s a skill that’s developed over time, and through some trial and error. I’ve had plenty of both. 

Yesterday was Royce’s last soccer game of the season. She’s naturally gifted in soccer. I’m not saying she talented enough to be an Olympic athlete (Erica, hold our summer plans for 2020) and while she’s really good, what she really has is some exceptional potential. So it got me thinking about the role of leadership and coach because yesterday’s game served as a microcosm of learning for me.

So last night it was a frustrating game to watch as a parent. Mostly, because she was playing poorly. And it wasn’t that she was having an off night, she just wasn’t playing hard. And that’s what bothered me.

So the dialogue in my head, and ultimately with Royce, went pretty much like this:

First quarter. Okay, Royce, she’s a sweet kid but she’s not playing well tonight. Yes, she just wants to to have fun–that’s cool, right? Last game. Just try to stay quiet and leave her alone. She’ll get in her groove. If she does anything good, just cheer her on (not much cheering). Alright, even if she doesn’t do anything good, cheer her on (cheering commenced). Be patient, Dad. Chill out. Shut up. 

Breaktime: “Hey Royce, love you sweetie. Good job, atta girl, keep it up. Hustle. I’m watching!” 

Second quarter. No improvement. In fact she’s getting sloppier. And it’s not that she’s a bad player, or having an off night. In fact, she’s really talented. She’s just NOT hustling. She’s NOT focused. She’s not in the game, just running around aimlessly…Okay, Dad, maybe slow down a minute here. We ARE talking about seven year olds! But still, I countered myself, she needs to learn discipline, and hustle–to give it her all, that it’s not okay during game time to play like a wimp or halfway. Okay, I figured, now it’s time for a pep talk when she comes on the sidelines. I’m going to address it. Let’s keep it positive, let’s try to spin it nicely and encourage her, you know, we don’t want to quell the fire and enthusiasm. Don’t want to hurt her feelings and all, I mean, let’s be politically correct–what if you told your kid the truth and the protective services showed up and carted you off? Let’s keep it poz…

Breaktime: “Royce, you’re doing really well (that was not true and I shouldn’t have said it) but let’s try to up the volume a bit, okay? Just give it your all. Follow the ball. Hustle. 100%” 

Third quarter. Nothing. Zero. She’s still dancing around the field, goofing a bit, wandering around, kicking the ball but not following it, playing really timid. And I am now beyond frustrated. But then I think, okay Dad, you’re a big time type A/high achiever type. Maybe you just need to run a few laps and work some energy off you? But, no, there’s something to this…She’s GOT to learn through practice the magic of success, which is founded in hard work and tenacity. If she doesn’t learn now through these examples, just WHEN will she learn? This can be fun, I’m all for fun, but how good is she really going to feel at the end of the game if she “funnily” danced about the field but didn’t play her heart out? How about in other areas of life when she doesn’t apply herself? This is when the behaviors are set. It’s my obligation to say something. 

Breaktime: “Royce, I need you to look me in the eye and answer a question to me…Are you giving it your all out on that soccer field? Are you REALLY giving 100%? No? Okay, I didn’t think so. Royce, it doesn’t look that way to me either. Remember when we talk about wanting to be great at something? Here’s what great looks like: it looks like hustle, 100%, sprinting after the ball, following the ball after you kick it, being focused and not goofing around. I love you, but right now I need to be a straight talker with you–you’re not playing well–but it’s all in your head. You can do it, but it’s your decision, and you’ve got to want it. Do you want it? Really, do you want it? Okay, look at me and tell me you’re going to do this, I don’t care about scoring goals, I just want to see you leave it ALL out on the field. You should finish exhausted. Do your best. Just do your best. C’mon Royce!” 

Fourth quarter: Magic happened. It was like a new day, and totally new game, and a new Royce. I’ve never seen her exert that level of effort, I could see her focus in her eyes and she was all over the field. Aggressive, a great passer. Sprinted endlessly from one side of the field to the other. Tenacious. The level of pride that I felt was indescribable, but not for me–instead, it was for her (okay, a little bit of fatherly pride as well).

After the game ended, we did the tunnel and the kids ran through. The coach pulled her aside and told her “great fourth quarter finish, Royce!”. And I looked at her, and asked, “how do you feel?” with a smile on my face? And she answered back, while unsuccessfully fighting tears, “I feel so proud, I did it–I finished strong. I feel so good about myself.” 

This is, at the core, one of the challenges and gifts of leadership.

In this instance, it took me three times to get it right–but fortunately there were four quarters to the game. I tried to not say anything. Sometimes that might be the right thing to do. Certainly, it’s the easier one.

Then I tried to espouse the suggestions within the context of some bunk–like I tried to find something positive to say and then wrapped the feedback within this little morsel of meaningless praise, and in doing this what I really did was a disservice by complimenting something that wasn’t good, and I diluted the candid feedback that could make her great (side note: I think it’s always important to try to find a few things someone does or did right, but you can’t make something up either). 

Finally, I relegated to the best approach of all. Be a straight talker. This is the approach I usually go for, but with my kids I felt relegated to this stepwise pattern for whatever reason. Compassion? Wanting to be nice and encouraging? Not sure. 

It’s hard to know when to use each approach, there are times when you just need to shut up and let it roll. And others when you just need to cheer and encourage, or perhaps try to find a few things people are doing well along with one thing they need to work on. But, finally, there are also those times when you just need to be a straight talker, and say “Hey, you’re not doing your best. Let’s see it.” So, it surprised me, be last night was one of those nights for a seven year old. Yet, it was really profound for me–because it was such a simple situation and I saw the results play out in such an interesting way. 

Great job Royce!

Going into the Univera Cruise a few weeks ago I was still working towards my physical goal for the year (and, technically, my target date is still end of June) but I’d moved into the mode of “well, I’ll try my best.” It was accompanied with a bit of a plan, like working out a few days a week and hitting some cardio. And trying to eat better, low glycemic foods. I was actually doing okay. But I wasn’t on track to hit my goal. 

I’m convinced a critical part of all our leadership, in any capacity, is both setting and accomplishing goals.

So midway through the Cruise the subject really unloaded on me as I was talking about setting in place your “next steps” for success on your goals to the rest of the attendees. Which, for me, specifically, had become somewhat lax related to my physical goal. So during the Cruise I became more convicted, and realized I needed to re-establish my plan. It was on the trip that I faced the hard facts–that if I didn’t do something significantly different then I was going to fail in achieving my objective.

My mistake was a simple and common one. I’d relegated a really important personal objective to simply “trying”, without the necessary support plan to ensure I both would and could get it done. 

So I came back and sat down the day after I got home, and I created a very specific plan between early May and June 26th–in fact, I went beyond that date, but I put together what I thought was the most aggressive plan that I could possibly achieve (while maintaining other responsibilities). It was very specific.

From eliminating all caffeine or wine during the week (even Green Tea, which I love but have relegated to the weekends in exchange for Roobios tea which has zero caffeine and is loaded w/ antioxidants) to eating the exact same breakfast daily (Bill Pearl protein/oatmeal combo–easy, filling, and healthy) to a virtual elimination of red meat from my diet (only once/week) among other specific plans. 

I applied the same rigor for my exercise goals, where I committed to a very specific cross-training regimen that includes Spin class on Monday’s, moderate-length runs on Tuesday through Thursday (along with lifting free weights two of these days) a rest day Friday, followed by a long run on Saturday’s and then Bikram yoga on Sunday’s. 

Even my supplementation (particularly Univera products) were isolated with how much in the AM/PM, what dosage, a titration schedule, etc. Incidentally, I’m not suggesting any of this should be your plan. In fact, I’m quite certain it shouldn’t. Instead, adopt or create something specific to you. 

By the time I was done with the plan, I KNEW that if I had a chance of achieving my goal going into Convention this was my best shot. The issue wasn’t whether it was a good plan in order to get me to my goal, as I drafted it up I KNEW it would work (at least eventually by end of summer if not by end of June) for my body type and personality. And that once I accomplished the plan I would then transition to a bit more balance, but still maintain the fundamentals. 

The question, then, became whether I was committed to following and adhering to the plan? 

Would I do what it takes? Did I really want it? And could I transform from “try” to a new mindset which was simply “no excuses, go and do it.”

The day after I wrote up the plan a funny thing happened.

I got quite sick.

It’s the most sick I’ve felt in a few years (for those of you that saw me during this time, I think I actually hid it quite well but I used a fair amount of help from Mr. Nyquil, in addition to Solanyx, Immunoburst, and Super Immune). Normally, I get over a cold or illness relatively quickly. But this was unique. This sickness, I think, was a test. It was a test to help me determine whether I’m really committed to this, and also served as a really important lesson about doing things even when you don’t feel like it. 

It made me ask myself whether I really wanted this goal, and was I willing to sacrifice or fight through feeling lousy to adhere to the plan. When I didn’t FEEL like walking two blocks, was I really willing to do my ten mile run?  

And, I came to the conclusion, that I didn’t want to fail. That’s the bottom line. I could deal with delaying my achievement date for a few weeks or months (though I’m not conceding that just yet either), and I could deal with “doing my absolute BEST” and not achieving the objective. But that I couldn’t get comfortable with a “I’ll try pretty hard” effort. I realized, I really wanted to get this done. It’s not to say that each day wasn’t a pain to get through the workout, but after each one I felt a bit better. Not physically, but emotionally. I’d built up a bank account of performed accountability, even if just to myself and with small things, that built upon each other. 

Today was the first day in two weeks that I felt “back to normal.” But that’s not what got my psyched today. What got my psyched today is that I realized I accomplished one battle over the past two weeks, which was the battle of “I feel so badly I can’t motivate to do anything physically”, yet I did it anyways. 

And it was a great reminder about the importance of having a plan and committing to the plan from a very different context than I was used to. 

Because it’s this simple. 

If we all operate under the plan for our most important goals and dreams that “I’m going to give it a try” without a clear and actionable plan then we’re–at best–setting ourselves up to fall into success. And, at worst, we’re setting ourselves up for a frustrating failure. If I’d relegated workouts over the past two weeks to when I felt like it I wouldn’t have exercised once. But, because I set out and committed to the plan, it became an easier (not easy, just easier-ER) decision. It wasn’t about whether I felt like it–it was about whether I was committed and willing to make the decision and do what it took. The plan was laid out, all I had to do was follow it.

Al Keranen and Glenn "Big Daddy" Hubbard

…you missed it and you’re a Univera associates (or interested in making some extra money), here’s a replay. 

Normally, I reserve my blog for topics related to leadership, service, and wellness–mixed in with some personal stories. Yet so much of my life is Univera and the related activities spillover continually–and this is one of those. The following was a really fun announcement (Glen and Teresa were great thanks to you both) to make via a simulcast to well over to 1,000 Univera associates who watched LIVE from all over North America–and on a Friday night to boot. In addition, we had about 150 people attending the Executive Invitational this weekend who were also in the audience.

Watch live video from Univera’s channel on Justin.tv

“During my lifetime I have dedicated myself to the struggle of the African people. I have fought against white domination, and I have fought against black domination. I have cherished the ideal of a democratic and free society in which all persons live together in harmony and with equal opportunities. It is an ideal which I hope to live for and to achieve. But if needs be, it is an ideal for which I am prepared to die.”

-Nelson Mandela

On my mind tonight is the perspective of perseverance, passion, and perspective as it relates to our leadership and ourselves. 

I have a personal lesson learned about perseverance in the last ten days, but I need to let another week go by before writing about it–to see if the lesson learned has actually stuck. As I’ve gone through the last few days I have been uplifted by hearing of stories of challenge and perseverance and ones leadership. At times it’s really helpful to hear about people that you thought had it all–or appeared to–yet they still struggled. Alternatively, you hear about someone who has seemed to have  ”arrived”, but then go on to learn what they went through in order to get closer to their destination. 

Nelson Mandela was such a man. And you can read a brief backgrounder here. 

Here’s a person who spent 27 years in prison, among other trials and tribulations throughout his life. Think about the length of that, and if you literally had nearly three decades of your life taken from you. Or, for those that are younger, imagine being committed for another 20 years to imprisonment. A year would feel like an eternity (heck, some “tough days” feel like an eternity). I can’t imagine 27 stacked back-to-back years. 

So, today, there are two simple quotes from Nelson Mandela that inspire me with a lesson of leadership. One’s about purpose and passion, which is the quote that originated at the beginning of this blog entry. 

The other, which I’ll use to close, is about perspective amidst or in spite of difficulty. 

“The greatest glory in living lies not in never falling, but in rising every time we fall.”

-Nelson Mandela