Motivation | Peter Fletcher

Why do you train?

March 9, 2014 by Peter Fletcher

We train to experience – not avoid – our breaking point. Image: Chris Hunkeler http://www.flickr.com/photos/chrishunkeler/8049103309/

I ran with Lee Baston and her group of long-distance running friends this morning.

A 4:57am message told me that Lee’s day was not going to plan – her alarm hadn’t gone off.

But some quick thinking and a few shortcuts had her back on track as she joined her group for a 32 km run from UWA to Mount Henry and back.

I joined the group as they crossed the halfway mark.

We sat on a comfortable 5:50/km pace as we crossed Mount Henry bridge and started the return leg of the run. There was plenty of chatter and it seemed the group was in good spirit.

Then, at the 28 km mark, Lee hit the wall.

Hard.

She stopped. “My feet are hot. They’re on fire,” she lamented.

I waited.

“You go, Pete. Don’t wait for me. Just go!” she ordered.

I ignored her.

Lee bent over and started to unlace her shoes. It’s an unusual thing for a runner to take their shoes off. That’s what you do after a run, not with 4 k’s to go.

“My feet are on fire,” she told me again as she started to walk, now bare feet.

Then, as if something a switch flicked inside her, she once again bent over. This time it was to pull on her runners. She muttered something I couldn’t make out as she tightened the laces.

Then she started to run.

As we climbed the Narrows Bridge I offered Lee a date. Dates are superfood for athletes. They never go off and provide instant relief for a runner who’s running out of fuel.

Lee devoured one, then another, then another.

18 minutes later we crossed the finish line. Lee had run 32 k’s just as she’d planned.

It’s moments like these in training that define the athlete. You see, we train to experience – not avoid – our breaking point. For if we avoid pain and fear in training, we’re ill-equipped to handle what’s thrown at us when things don’t go to plan during the game.

But when we experience our breaking point fully we also experience what it feels like to overcome. We experience that pain, when transcended, becomes personal victory.

How digging myself a hole has stopped me from running

March 8, 2014 by Peter Fletcher

Distractions can come from something as simple as a hole in the ground. Image: Kelly Sikkema http://www.flickr.com/photos/95072945@N05/10158714405/

I’m going for a run in the morning. It’s my first long run for 3 weeks. It’ll be around 16 k’s.

Both my running and chin-up challenges are off the rails. First I suffered a calf injury. That took a couple of weeks to get through. Then I got distracted by two presentations that I’d never done before. It took a lot of time to get the story line right. The investment in time was worth it but the cost of that investment was a setback in my fitness.

There’s something else that’s distracted me. That something is the bore in our front yard. About 3 weeks ago it stopped working. I turned it on one morning then, ‘pop’, a fuse blew. And it wasn’t an ordinary flick-the-RCD-back-on kind of blow. This one was ‘down to earth.’ That’s an electricians way of saying that there’s a live wire shorting to ground.

It’s dangerous.

After some digging and testing the electrician told me that the problem was where the old bore wiring joined onto the new. Find that join, they said, and you’ll find your problem.

I started digging.

I dug and I dug and I dug some more until hole the size of the Grand Canyon appeared in my front lawn. Not only was there a hole but there were also mounds of dirt and mounds of once beautiful lawn that now sat waiting until I could find the problem and fill in the hole.

Finally, I found the join. I was happy. Soon I’d have the sparkies back, they’d fix the problem, I’d fill in the hole and my lawn could start growing again.

But things don’t always go according to plan.

About 7 years ago I had the old bore decommissioned and a new bore installed. We were doing some other work on the house at the time and I had a Bobcat driver on the property. I told him I wanted to fill in the old well.

Quick to seize on an opportunity to save himself some money in tip fees he said, “No worries. We’ll just throw this rubble down the hole then fill it in with sand.”

“Won’t it subside?” I asked.

“Nah mate. I do it all the time,” he explained.

I was convinced, but was fooled too easily.

Within a month a round depression had started to take shape on the newly planted lawn. It was the shape of the old well.

“That’s ok,” I thought. “I’ll put some topdressing on it and it’ll be fine.”

It wasn’t.

A few months later the depression was back. Once again, I did the patch job but in no time the depression was back.

I had to do something.

I called the landscaper.

“Ollie, I want you to come out and lay a patch of concrete over this bore so that it stops sinking,” I demanded.

He did and the problem was fixed – until the bore stopped.

To get to the problem join I had to break through the concrete slab that Ollie had laid.

As luck would have it, Ollie wasn’t the world’s greatest concreter. Even with the tools I had available – I’m no big tool guy – I was able to smash through the concrete patch with relative ease.

But something odd happened.

As each piece broke an ever larger hole started to appear. Soon it was more than a hole – it was a cavern in the size of a bore hole and well over a metre deep.

Now, not only did I have the holes I’d dug to expose the electrical conduit, I also had a hole where the soil had subsided beneath Ollie’s concrete cap.

The Bobcat driver had turned out to tell a lie as big as the hole he’d been filling at the time.

Today, I poured 120 kilograms of concrete on top of the Bobcatter’s rubble. That’s going to act as a plug just like Ollie’s did. But the difference is that this plug is over a metre below the surface with only rubble below it.

Tomorrow I’m going to fill the hole up with good quality fill sand topped off with some nice loam that the lawn will love.

So if I’ve lost a missed a few k’s and a few chin-ups, that’s my excuse and I’m sticking to it.

Did you wring everything out of today?

February 20, 2014 by Peter Fletcher

Will tomorrow make you happy with exhaustion? Image: Phil and Pam http://www.flickr.com/photos/philandpam/169485895

Did you squeeze everything out of today?

Did you make that extra call or write that final word? Did you do every rep that you possibly could?

Tonight, will you fall into bed exhausted and spent?

If you won’t, what’s your resolve for tomorrow? Is it to just get through to the weekend? Or is it to dig a little deeper and to extract more, do more, learn more and contribute more?

Instead of resolving to do better this year or next how about just doing better tomorrow? Before your eyes close tonight plan to make tomorrow a day that you’ll be proud of, a day that will contribute to your big goals, a day where your discipline and commitment to your processes will shine through.

Do that now and smile through the exhaustion tomorrow.

The question that defined my career

February 17, 2014 by Peter Fletcher

A simple question about a car defined my career. Image: Sicnag http://www.flickr.com/photos/42220226@N07/

At 21 I craved freedom and a better than decent living. I was already bored with nine-to-five and the predictable income that came with it.

I wanted more. Real estate would help me get it.

My third interview was with Brown James and Associates in Kalgoorlie. Graham Brown and David James were the rising stars of the property market in the Goldfields.

Their offices dripped with the accoutrements of success. Dark jarrah panelled desks matched the dark wood panelled office partitions.

It felt like Wall Street had landed in the desert.

The interview began. I was offered a coffee. None of this instant stuff mind. This was the real deal – percolated and made fresh.

I ordered a white with one. The secretary brought it in. I sipped, careful not to burn my lip or spill any on my clean white shirt.

“So Peter, where are you working now?” the big boss asked.

I responded coherently as I looked with fascination at how grey his hair was.

“He doesn’t seem that old but man he’s almost white,” I thought.

I sipped more coffee and tried to focus again.

The questions continued. Why are you leaving your current job? What are your goals? Where do you hope to be in 5 years?

With each question and each answer my confidence grew. That jarrah desk would soon be mine.

Inevitably they wanted to know how I’d deal with having no income for the first few months. I was as broke as a two bob watch but I handled their questions deftly. Paraphrasing Paul J. Meyer I explained that I knew what I wanted and that I was willing to do whatever it took to make it happen.

Nothing would stand in my way.

The bosses were impressed. They smiled and nodded approvingly.

I thought I had it in the bag. They could ask me no harder question – or so I thought.

“Of course you’ll need to take buyers out in your car,” said the moustachioed David James. “What are you driving?”

I was completely unprepared for the question. Being able to live on the smell of an oily rag was one thing but stumping up thousands to buy new wheels was another all together.

And there was no doubt I needed a new vehicle.

In the car park out the back, right next to the big boss’s gleaming new Commodore, was my rusty 1971 XY Falcon. It had a column shift and vinyl bench seats that burned your bum in the summer sun.

I paused for what felt like an eternity.

Right there I had a choice and it would define me forever. I could make excuses about my lack of preparation and hope for an interview once I got my financial act together or I could step up to the plate and deliver right now.

I chose the latter.

“I’ve got an old bomb in the car park but if I get the job I’ll be going to Perth to get something nicer,” I explained.

“Sounds great,” said David. “When can you start?”

I was in.

But now I had a problem – a big one.

With nothing in the fridge and less in the bank, where was I going to get the coin to buy new wheels?

And if that wasn’t enough Rita and I were planning to get engaged. I had a ring to pay for, a sales reps registration course to fund, and I had to survive the next few months without a regular income.

To be continued.

How a conversation about a car led me into real estate

February 16, 2014 by Peter Fletcher

A conversation about a BMW changed the arc of my life. Image: FreddyHi http://www.flickr.com/photos/50917563@N08/

I was in year 11. As a boarder at the Esperance High School Hostel I’d make the long trip back home to the farm every couple of weeks.

On Monday morning, after a weekend at home, Mum and Dad would drive me the 160 kms back to Esperance so I could start another school week.

On one of those trips there was a newspaper in the car. It contained a full page ad for the then-new BMW 3-series.

I couldn’t stop reading and re-reading it. The car was a technological masterpiece.

It’s big claim to fame was an electronic engine management system that meant it would use little or no fuel when going downhill.

Whether or not it was true, I was hooked. I wanted one.

I said as much to Dad.

“One day I’ll have one of these,” I blurted out.

“No you won’t,” he retorted.

I said nothing.

That exchange stuck with me. It gnawed away inside me. I wanted to prove him wrong.

From that point forward I went looking for any opportunity to leverage my time. As a wool presser I busted my gut to get on contract where I was paid for every bail rather than on a day rate. Then, as an office worker in an engineering firm, I grabbed the chance to supplement my income working as a trades assistant at night and on the weekends.

But even these jobs didn’t give me what I was chasing. I was still working for someone.

One day I was kidding around in the workshop with one of the project managers when the big boss came past.

“You’re paid to work, not talk,” he snapped.

Right there and then I thought to myself that I needed to get a job where I was paid to talk, not work.

So I redoubled my search efforts. Soon I came across a motivational tape by Paul J. Myer from the Success Motivation Institute. Myer’s message was simple: “Whatever you vividly imagine, ardently desire and enthusiastically act upon must inevitably come to pass.”

The message struck a powerful chord. It spurred me to start applying for jobs where I was in charge of how much I would earn.

I wanted to be run my own show, to be the captain of my ship.

I applied for just three jobs.

The first would-be boss said I was too young, the next said I wouldn’t stick around but the third took a punt that I’d be able to sell real estate, despite that I was only 21 and all the other reps were 41.

A couple of weeks after I started, dad rang. He asked me why I thought I’d be able to sell real estate even though I’d never sold anything in my life before.

I said simply: “I will because I’ll make it happen.”

I did and I never looked back.

And yes, I did buy a BMW – a 325i Executive.

Is this not the most inspiring story of the Winter Olympics?

February 15, 2014 by Peter Fletcher

Lydia Lassila has provided the inspirational story of the Winter Olympics. Image: Christine Rondeau http://www.flickr.com/photos/crondeau/

I’m inspired by people who keep going in spite of adversity. People like Lydia Lassila who ruptured her ACL in 2005 then, despite doing it again in 2006, went on to win the World Cup in 2008/09 and an Olympic gold medal in 2010.

But if that isn’t reason enough to be inspired by her tenacity and courage what she did at this year’s Winter Olympics is.

In her final jump Lassila chose to attempt something no woman has ever achieved before – a quad twisting triple somersault. (That’s a full-twisting somersault, followed by a double-twisting somersault, followed by another single-twisting somersault.)

She could have played it safe. Instead she chose to leave an indelible mark on Olympic records.

Had she not demanded of herself something so audacious the world could only have suspected that such a feat might be possible.

Not only did she show that it was possible but that true champions stretch themselves beyond their limits.

Lydia Lassila, you are an inspiration.

7 ways to handle rejection like a pro

February 8, 2014 by Peter Fletcher

A Lathlain sales rep shows how to deal with rejection like a pro. Image: Grange Realty Group

Paul Brookes is a fighter. He’s one of the regulars at Lindley’s Boxing Gym in Carlisle. There he pounds a bag until the floor around him is soaked with sweat.

Brookesy, as he’s known to his friends, is a nuggety, barrel chested man. In the gym he gives off the impression that he’s not one to be trifled with.

But Paul is also a real estate consultant. As a consultant, he’s likeable and friendly, and a polished communicator.

Put the two together and you have a competitive, determined property professional who doesn’t give in easily.

One of his good mates is also one of mine. Steve owns the Doghouse café in Lathlain. He makes the best hotdogs and doughnuts in the state and he too is a likeable guy. As the proprietor of a popular local fast food outlet it’s no surprise that Steve knows a lot of people, including a lot of agents.

They stop by at the Doghouse for a coffee and doughnut and pretty soon they’re talking about the property market.

So when Steve decided to list one of his rental properties for sale he had a dilemma. Who should he choose? Should it be his mate Paul, another agent he bought a property from, or yet another agent who had the most properties for sale in the area?

For Steve it was a tough decision. In the end he chose the agent he’d bought another property from.

I saw Paul at an auction just hours after he’d been delivered the news. Despite that it was a stinking hot day he never once let on that he’d been hit.

I turned up to the auction with Steve. Knowing what had happened I thought that things might have been tense between them.

But no, Paul greeted Steve professionally, shook his hand, then excused himself to help out with the auction day proceedings. It was a classy thing to do.

As an ex-agent I knew he was hurting. I could see in his eyes that he was feeling let down, dazed and confused. For agents, what happened to Paul makes you question if you’ve still got what it takes or if you can handle the rejection.

He could have ignored Steve and pretended he didn’t see him. He could’ve been snarky or sarcastic. Instead he was polite and professional and dignified.

In short he acted like a true pro.

Over the course of the next couple of months Paul stayed in touch with Steve. They drank beer together at the boxing gym Christmas function. He dropped into the Doghouse for coffee and a chat.

He wasn’t about to let the setback get to him.

Then a couple of days ago the other agent’s listing expired. Paul was back in the game.

Like a true pro he hadn’t let rejection cause him to react emotionally. He stuck to his processes and stayed committed to the relationship.

Next week his for sale sign will go up. I’m sure it won’t be too long before the sold sign follows.

What lessons can we learn from the way Paul handled rejection? Here are 7 lessons I take from his story?

Take responsibility for the setback. Blaming the client, the market or the competition is rarely helpful, especially if you want to grow from the experience.
Recognise that “no” is not the same as never. Often it simply means “not right now.” Paul Brookes recognised this and kept himself in the game until “no” became “yes.”
Acknowledge your feelings. There’s no point pretending that rejection doesn’t hurt – it does. Sometimes it’ll make you feel like a failure or that you’re worthless but with time and perspective these feelings will transform into valuable life lessons.
Acknowledge that you’re not going to achieve 100% of your goals. The current setback has delayed the success train not derailed it all together.
Recognise that any worthwhile undertaking exposes you to failure. Before Roger Bannister ran a sub-4 minute mile thousands of other runners had tried and failed. That didn’t make them failures, it made them runners who helped push the bar a little higher with each unsuccessful attempt. If you’re up to achieving big things in life you’re going to do a lot of failing.
Acknowledge your achievements. Unless you’ve been wrapped in cotton wool this won’t be your first setback. You’ll have had other obstacles that you’ve overcome. Take stock of these and recognise that you’ve had your wins.
Use the setback as a learning experience. Ask yourself what you could have done better? This can be difficult to do when you’re hurting but gets easier as time passes. Harness the pain you’re feeling as the motivation for self-improvement.

What are yours? Please share your tips for coping with rejection in the comments below.