While working with VCs, one thing I've observed that truly sharpens their edge is having a practice outside of work that forces patience and pattern recognition. One VC I collaborated with swore by long-distance running. At first, I thought it was just about fitness, but he explained how the discipline of pacing, enduring discomfort, and spotting small shifts in his body's rhythm mirrored the way he approached evaluating startups. He wasn't chasing instant results; he was training himself to recognize when to push, when to hold back, and how to see progress over years, not weeks. For me, that translated into how I now advise founders, helping them see that investors often value resilience and consistency more than a single flashy metric. The takeaway I share with startups is this: many VCs have some practice outside the office that builds patience and perspective. Whether it's running, chess, or even painting, those activities help them approach deals with a sharper eye for long-term potential rather than short-term hype.
One thing I've carried with me outside of work that's made me a sharper investor and entrepreneur is long-distance running. It started as a way to clear my head during some of the most stressful early days of building Nerdigital, but over time I realized the discipline of running mirrors the discipline of venture building. When you're out on a 10-mile run, there's no instant gratification. The first few miles can feel heavy, your mind starts negotiating with you to quit, and progress is invisible until you're deep into the journey. Startups are much the same. Founders often want quick wins, but the real breakthroughs come from pushing through those stretches when progress feels slow and every instinct tells you to stop. I remember working with a founder in the SaaS space who hit a plateau after their initial product-market fit. Investors were skeptical, revenue wasn't scaling, and morale was low. It reminded me of hitting "the wall" in a marathon. What I've learned from running is that the wall isn't the end—it's the moment your body is teaching you to find another gear. I encouraged them to stop chasing new features and instead double down on retention. Within months, their churn rate dropped dramatically, and suddenly the growth curve picked back up. That mindset—seeing setbacks as signals, not failures—is something I know I absorbed from hours spent on the road. Running also gives me perspective. When you're staring at KPIs, cap tables, and market trends all day, it's easy to get tunnel vision. But a run reminds me that patience compounds, small steps add up, and resilience often matters more than raw speed. Those are the same qualities I look for in founders I back: the ones who can grind through the middle miles when no one's cheering and the finish line isn't in sight. So for me, running isn't just exercise—it's training for the kind of patience, grit, and long-term thinking venture capital requires.
Distance cycling has shaped how I evaluate companies. Long rides force me to manage energy reserves, plan for changing terrain, and stay disciplined when fatigue sets in. Venture investing has the same rhythm. Early excitement is easy, but the real returns come from pacing commitments, conserving dry powder, and having the patience to push through stretches when markets cool. Cycling also sharpens pattern recognition. A slight change in cadence or road feel can warn of mechanical trouble before it becomes failure. In venture, similar early signals appear in customer behavior or founder dynamics. Training myself to notice subtle shifts outside of work makes me more attentive to the small details in portfolio companies that compound into big outcomes.
For me, aside from work, one thing I do consistently is long-distance running. It may seem like a totally unrelated concept to the venture capital world, but the similarities are striking. Long-distance running imparts the lessons of discipline, patience, and pushing through uncertainty, characteristics that investors and founders mirror on their journey. Each mile brings a surprise, so does every investment. I learned to manage my pace in running, conserve energy, and make sound decisions every moment under pressure; hence, my focus is on evaluating startups on a long-term basis instead of chasing short-term gains. That builds my ability to remain focused through setbacks, which is essential when supporting founders through turbulent market cycles. Running for mental endurance also allows me to step away and consider trends, strategies, and portfolio dynamics creatively.
Long-distance running has shaped the way I evaluate and support investments. The discipline of tracking progress mile by mile mirrors how I break down early-stage company growth into measurable checkpoints. In both cases, the key is pacing. Startups often want to accelerate too quickly, just as runners sometimes burn out by pushing too hard at the start. Training teaches me that endurance, consistency, and knowing when to conserve energy are what lead to sustainable performance. That perspective translates into how I work with founders. Instead of pressing for immediate scale, I encourage a rhythm of testing, iteration, and recovery. Just as I review running logs to identify trends in performance, I study financial and operational data to detect patterns that may not be obvious at first glance. The patience developed through running reinforces the ability to stay focused on the long game, which is critical in venture capital where returns often take years to materialize.
I spend a lot of time mentoring early-stage founders outside of my direct investment work. Some are students launching their first product, others are bootstrapping entrepreneurs just trying to validate an idea. These conversations keep me grounded in the realities of building from scratch—the uncertainty, the resource constraints, and the scrappiness it takes to survive. This translates directly into my work as a venture capitalist. By staying close to that raw founder experience, I become a sharper evaluator of teams and business models. I can spot red flags faster, but I also develop more empathy for the challenges founders face. That perspective helps me not only make better investment decisions but also be a more supportive partner once capital is deployed.
Long-distance cycling has shaped the way I approach venture capital. Hours on the road demand patience, discipline, and an ability to read subtle shifts in terrain and weather. That same mindset applies when evaluating early-stage companies. Progress is rarely linear, and signals of future success often appear small at first. Cycling also teaches energy management—pushing too hard early in a ride can lead to burnout, just as overextending capital without milestones can weaken a portfolio. Perhaps most importantly, the practice reinforces resilience. On challenging climbs, the focus narrows to steady, consistent effort rather than quick wins. Translating this to venture work, I find it helps me recognize which founders are building with endurance in mind and which are chasing unsustainable bursts. The discipline of cycling has made me more attuned to pacing investments and supporting entrepreneurs over the long haul.
Long-distance running has been one practice that carries directly into my work as a venture capitalist. The discipline of training requires pacing, patience, and an ability to endure discomfort while keeping the bigger goal in sight. Those same qualities apply when evaluating early-stage companies, where progress can be slow and setbacks common. Running also sharpens mental clarity, giving space to reflect on risks and strategies without distraction. The resilience built mile by mile translates into steadier decision-making and a stronger tolerance for the long horizons that investing demands.
Time spent restoring older homes outside of our core projects has been invaluable. Working with aging structures forces careful evaluation of what can be preserved, what requires replacement, and how to allocate resources without compromising safety or value. That process mirrors investment decisions. Every choice involves weighing immediate cost against long-term performance. The translation to our roofing and solar work is straightforward: we have become sharper at recognizing which innovations are worth adopting early and which are better left aside until proven reliable. The practice also reinforces patience. Restoration teaches that rushing rarely yields the strongest outcome. In the same way, we approach growth decisions by testing, observing, and scaling only when we know the foundation is sound. It has become a discipline that shapes how we balance risk and return, whether on a roof or within the broader direction of our business.