How to be a high performer

An email for all the tired people

“This is what a high performer looks like,” I think to myself. “I wish I was like that.”

I’m having coffee and croissants with a guy who built a $20M company. He’s telling me about this biotech company he started (on the side, as one does) and the internationally-decorated scientist he’s working with.

“I’m not really an entrepreneur,” I tell him. “I just want to write my newsletter.”

I can’t tell why I’m making myself small, why I’m putting on this “not a high performer” act.

…nevermind that I was weight-training outdoors at 5am, in the pitch black, and paddled 2km beyond the assigned 6km in this morning’s coaching program, with a group that is literally called “High Performance.”

…or that I had some very reassuring Stripe notifications while in the bathtub at 8am.

…or that I’m leaving on a 3-day backcountry camping trip tomorrow, alone, without my phone.

High Performance is my middle name.

(Actually it’s Kay, but I’m thinking of changing it to NATIONAL MEDALIST.)

But today, driving home to start my workday, I felt an intense pang of longing for something even bigger. To be the kind of high performer with 100,000 email subscribers, a Ph.D., bestselling books, international acclaim in publications I respect, invitations to speak on the biggest stages, to be that person who can walk into any roomful of high performers and know they belong.

I just really didn’t feel like that person, so I made myself even less of a person. This isn’t the first time I’ve shrunk myself for no one’s benefit, at no one’s request.

A few weeks back I was at a different table with a different guy, this time someone who’s built an even larger company.

Someone at our table asked what I do for work. I tripped over my words, saying ridiculous things. The phrase “weird and complicated” slipped out of my mouth against my will.

I felt about 3 inches tall.

“Why am I making myself so small?” I wondered again.

I don’t have a good answer, Friend. (Do you??!)

Other than to say that I’ve poured so much of myself into my work, been so brave and made so many difficult choices in my life and business that some days I am too tired to show up as “Tarzan NATIONAL MEDALIST Kalryzian.”

Some days I want to be utterly regular.

…a person who trips over their words.

…a person who aches to be seen and remembered but doesn’t always know how.

…a person who sometimes feels lost, and doesn’t have the energy to pretend otherwise.

…a person who says, “Not today, Opportunity! I just want to Netflix and chill.” (At least once in a while.)

…A PERSON WHO DOESN’T TAKE GODDAMN ICE BATHS!!

I got home from my coffee date and took a one-hour nap.

Then I wrote you this email.

For my fellow high performers, remember you get to do that. You get to have loser days and feel tired and botch your elevator pitch and be embarrassingly unimpressive in front of people you really want to know. You get to take naps.

No one is a high performer 100% of the time.

Chances are tomorrow you will once again wake up feeling like a person who takes ice baths.

This is Tarzan, signing off until then.

Tarzan Kay [she/they]​ Did someone forward you this email? ​Subscribe here​. Follow me on ​LinkedIn​.

Changes To Our Countdown Timers

The feedback we get about countdown timers has always been mixed. Some subscribers hate timers, but others say it helps with decision making: “Can I sit on this decision for a day, or do I need to act now?”

In this newsletter one of our consent practices is to give you the option to permanently hide all countdown timers in emails. 

It’s been a successful experiment. I use countdown timers freely now, without remorse. 

But we made a small change to make it even better: 

We removed the ticking seconds.

Our timers now show only the days, hours, and minutes. (See this sales page.) It doesn’t look as fancy but it does the job without lighting anyone’s nervous system on fire. 

Did you notice? How did it feel?

Penny for your thoughts.