Read time: 3 min.

A month ago, my nephew and I went on a hike in the Ardennes.

We picked the trail off an app. Difficulty level: ‘’hard’’.

We looked at each other.

How hard can it be?

We went anyway. Completely unprepared. Wrong shoes, wrong clothes, no real plan. And when we got there, it had been snowing. A few centimeters covering the entire trail.

We started walking.

What happened next

About halfway through, we realized we weren't moving fast enough. The full route wasn't going to happen. The sun was going down in two hours and we were nowhere near completing the circle we'd planned.

So we improvised. Took shortcuts. Figured it out as we went.

We made it back to the car just in time. Cold, tired, slightly underdressed for the occasion.

And we had the best time.

That's the thing about just starting something. You don't get the adventure without the chaos. You don't get the story without the wrong shoes and the snow and the sun going down faster than expected.

You just get home safe and slightly bored.

Delusional optimism

There's a mindset I've carried my whole life that I've never really had a name for until recently.

It goes like this: how hard can it be?

Not reckless. Not blind. Just a quiet refusal to talk yourself out of things before you've even tried them. A default assumption that you'll figure it out along the way.

Most people do the opposite. They see something they want to try and immediately start building the case against it. They don't have the right skills yet. They need more preparation. They should probably do a course first. They're not ready.

And so they never start.

What they don't realize is that the preparation they're waiting for only comes from doing the thing. The skills only show up once you're in it. The readiness never arrives on its own.

The only two outcomes

Here's what I've noticed after years of just diving in.

There are only ever two things that can happen.

The first: you try it and nail it. Turns out it wasn't as hard as it looked. Turns out you were more capable than you thought. And all that time you spent hesitating was just fear dressed up as logic.

The second: you try it and fail. You get humbled. You realize you had no idea what you were doing.

But here's the thing about the second outcome. The moment you start, you enter the feedback loop. You're learning now. You're improving now. Every mistake is information that moves you forward.

Neither of those outcomes is available to you if you never begin.

The only way to guarantee failure is to not try at all.

What this mindset has actually brought me

When I look back at the things I'm most proud of, almost none of them started with a plan.

The YouTube channel. The brands. The book I’m writing. None of it began with me feeling ready. All of it began with some version of how hard can it be, let me find out.

Sometimes I nailed it faster than expected. Sometimes I failed, adjusted, tried again, failed differently, and eventually figured it out.

Both paths led somewhere meaningful.

The version of me that waited until he was ready is still waiting.

The question worth asking

There's something you've been putting off. Something you want to try but haven't started because you don't feel prepared enough, experienced enough, ready enough.

You're probably not ready.

Start anyway.

The trail might have snow on it. The sun might go down faster than you planned. You might have to improvise and take shortcuts and get back to the car with five minutes to spare.

But you'll have a story in your backpack that the person who stayed home will never have.

Much love,

— Martijn

P.S. Book update: still heads down on it. 1107 people on the waitlist. Getting closer every week.