I’m a firm believer in the power of true fans and that authenticity is the way to create them.

There are the obvious benefits to true fans. We gain evangelists, we produce revenue, and let’s not discount the fact that it just plain feels good.

There’s a secondary level of benefits when it comes to gaining true fans that’s less acknowledged: True fans make you want to be a better person.

True fans keep your drive alive.

True fans keep you in check.

They have your back when you falter, but because of them you don’t want to falter.

In the GRIT physical challenge Mike and I take part in, there’s a trainer. His name is CJ. During the challenge each member of GRIT becomes a true fan of CJ.

Not just because we’re a sick bunch of masochists and we somehow love the hell he puts us through, but also for his encouragement, his faith in us, and the fact that he expresses these things with 100% authenticity.

A lesser person would, upon acquiring true fans, get smug with an inflated ego and start slacking off – thereby losing those fans in a heartbeat.

GRIT members know that CJ is not one of those people. His reaction is the opposite – to work harder and lead by example.

When we have true fans we’re driven not just to be great, but also by the fact that we know letting those fans down is simply not a possibility for us. We won’t do it, because that’s not who we are.

If we want true fans, we must first be true ourselves. Give first, authentically and without expectation. And then be grateful, because every true fan pushes us to be our best self.

​As an incorrigible planner, I’ve wasted a lot of time and effort in the past by stubbornly sticking to a plan. After all, it was the plan.

Through trial and error, a whole lot of error, I’ve learned that a plan is good, but by no means set in stone. The situation may (will) change and so the strategy going forward will have to as well. I cannot let the plan serve as blinders.

Mike has always been good at this. We once found ourselves stranded at an airport in Italy. Sudden snow grounded all flights. There were thousands of distraught passengers in the airport, while airline representatives slowly retreated from the frustrated crowd. There was nothing they could do.

I would have waited in that airport for days. Because the plan was to take a flight from that airport. I could see no other option than to remain there until the planes were once again flying and we could pick up where we’d stalled.

That would have been a really stupid idea.

See how the plan was blinding me? Keeping me from strategizing to the situation?

Eventually Mike convinced me that there was no point in remaining there. We took a bus to a train to another train to another train, from Milan to Vienna to Prague.

It was a hellish trip in cramped quarters. At one point we shared a compartment with a man who reeked of booze and body odor. Not just garden-variety body odor. It was nuanced. Notes of armpit… a hint of feet.

Despite the discomfort, it was movement in the right direction. We got where we needed to go instead of remaining stagnant at the airport, waiting on outside forces to make our plans happen.

When I get mired in thinking I need to stick to the plan, or waiting on someone else to complete their part of the puzzle, I remind myself of that trip and regain control.

A plan is a great guideline, but situations change, and it’s important to be able to strategize so that the plan can change accordingly. Otherwise, I might miss out on the greater goal, all because I’m still stuck waiting at the airport.