24/07/2026
“Don’t bite off more than you can chew.”
F**k that. Genuinely.
That phrase has kept more people small than any recession ever has. It sounds like wisdom and it functions like a leash.
Every meaningful thing I’ve done, I was underqualified for on the day I committed to it. The gym. The first competition. The house in Spain I put a deposit on before I’d run it past my wife. The 250km race across the desert that I entered having never run a marathon in my life.
None of that was reckless. It was just committed before I was ready, which is the only order it ever actually happens in. You don’t get ready and then commit. You commit, and the readiness turns up because it has to.
And the risk everyone’s terrified of is almost never as bad as they’ve built it up to be. Worst case, you take too big a bite, you choke a bit, you spit some out. You are still miles ahead of the version of you who sat there nibbling for another two years.
Nibbling has a cost. Nobody ever puts a number on it, but it’s the biggest one on the list.
If you want a bite big enough to move something, it’s £250 a month and you can cancel any time you like. Price, guarantee and everything inside it is all laid out, no DM-me-for-details game.
Link’s in my bio.
