On Anticipation

The doctor made small talk as he procured his rubber hammer.

The chattiness was part of his bedside manner. A way to get through all the awkward tests that were part of a physical exam. All while keeping the patient relaxed and at ease.

I was playing along, to a degree. But I was also on guard.

So, as the doctor flashed the hammer in my direction, I jolted my right knee backward. The hammer hit nothing but air.

Impressive reflexes, the doctor remarked. But much like his hammer, he hadn’t quite hit the mark.

This wasn’t about reflexes. Not by a long shot.


It’s long been known that humans have five senses.

Sight, smell, sound, taste, and touch are each critical. They shape how we perceive the world. And they serve as guardians of our survival.

However, I believe there’s a sixth sense out there. Not in an M. Night Shyamalan movie sort of way. Rather, something more tangible and impactful.

I’m talking about anticipation.

Anticipation is more than a gift or an attribute. It’s an acute sense — with a twist.

You see, anticipation takes our traditional five senses to a new level. It mixes their recorded inputs with situational awareness. All in a manner that can prime prediction.

Anticipation puts us on the front foot. It allows us to think a step ahead, and to act accordingly.

This is more than a nice-to-have. In a world full of lethality, the signals of danger often arrive too late for us to avert them. We need to see the flames, smell the smoke, and feel the burn before first spark ignites. That way, our fight-or-flight response can activate in time to save our skin.

We need anticipation, plain and simple.

And like a fine wine, anticipation gets better with time. With more data in our brains, and more experience in our bones, our power proliferates. We’re less likely to be caught off-guard, and more likely to jump into the fray in a flash.

This was the case when my knee jolted at the doctor’s office. After all, I’d been through a physical or two before.

I understood what that rubber hammer meant. I knew how it would feel when it slammed against my kneecap. And I wasn’t inclined to sit around and let it happen again.

It was a display of anticipation. One by design.


He’s playing 4D chess.

We’ve heard a phrase like this plenty before. Often when a master tactician, such as a military leader or a football coach, takes strategic execution to another level.

The implication is that these masterminds have unique ability. They’re able to think several steps ahead and process dozens of hypotheticals in real time.

In other words, they have uncanny senses of anticipation.

How did this come about? Were these hallowed leaders born this way?

No. In their earliest days, these feted geniuses were just as feeble as the rest of us.

But as they grew up, their paths began to diverge from ours.

They put their minds to the test, time and again. They paid meticulous attention to detail. And they set themselves up to seize opportunities before they happened.

Make no mistake. Anticipatory dominance is built, not bequeathed. It’s forged with tools available to all of us.

I don’t believe enough of us realize this fact. I sure didn’t.

For years, I drifted through the roaring rapids of reality. I was never quite prepared for the jagged rocks, the dips and drops in my path. I would react to life after it happened.

This pattern continued into early adulthood — a time when I could least afford it.

I had just started my career as a TV news producer. It was a position built on elite anticipation and quick decisions. But I had neither in my arsenal.

The results were predictable. News broke across town late one night, and I was slow to react. My station’s coverage was subpar. The competition wiped the floor with us.

This colossal meltdown wasn’t all my fault. But it wasn’t a good look. And I took this failing hard.

I knew I couldn’t let my colleagues and my viewers down like that again. I needed to be ready for the next big story — which could break at any time.

This was the inflection point. It’s what spurred me to hone my focus, to stretch the limits of my senses, to sharpen my resolve.

It’s what taught me how to anticipate.

These days, anticipation is my most treasured attribute. I relish the opportunity to initiate the action. To remain prepared and to put myself in position for success.

It took a while to get to this point. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.


Several years ago, I attended a boxing match.

A headline bout hogged the marquee. But several undercard brawls led up to it.

On one of those undercards, a fighter connected on a vicious cross — his oversized glove battering the top of his opponent’s head. He followed up that blow with a hook to the jaw.

The one-two punch was too much for the other fighter to absorb. He dropped like a rock. The fight was over.

The crowd gasped in horror, stunned by the flash of brutality they’d just witnessed. But I was less stunned than perplexed.

How was the stricken fighter so unprepared for what felled him? Why did he not have his hand up to protect his face?

This was a basic tenet of self-defense that even I knew about. Yet, it had gone begging.

The lack of anticipation carried a brutal toll for this brawler. But the cost is steep for us as well.

Make no mistake. Anticipation is not a nice to have. It’s a need to have.

We cannot expect to get ahead in life by waiting for the action to reach our doorstep. Heck, we can’t even get by that way.

We need to steel ourselves for what lies ahead. To synthesize our past and predict our future. To make moves before the picture comes fully into focus.

This is hard work. It’s uncomfortable work. But it’s necessary work.

Sustainable success is within our range. Let’s prepare ourselves to grasp it.

The Forewarned Disadvantage

Does knowing the risks ahead of time make something worthwhile?

For the longest time, I would have said the answer to yes was this.

After all, mental preparation can be critical. If you know ahead of time that something bad might happen, you’ll ideally be prepared for it. Or at least you won’t feel blindsided by it.

This means you’ll be better prepared to navigate your way out of the trouble you encounter.

You’ll spend less time wondering What happened? and more time determining What’s next? Which can make all the difference — particularly when facing potentially lethal danger.

Of course, there’s an unspoken expectation that goes with this reasoning. One that assumes those with knowledge of the risks will somehow be less affected by them.

That somehow, these well-informed risktakers will take the lion’s share of the associated jolt at the point when they read the list of side effects. Not when trouble is at their tail.

This is why the term They knew the risks is so commonly used by those pundits who analyze the aftermath of disaster.

The translation? At least they were prepared.

This, of course, is ridiculous.

Nothing will soften the blow when something goes wrong. No prior knowledge can truly prepare you for the in-the-moment sensation of the train going off the tracks.

I know this firsthand. Not too long ago, I enrolled in a medical program that carried both great risk and reward.

By sticking to the program, I could eradicate my seasonal allergies. But the potential side effects of this program were grave, even lethal.

I was well aware of these side effects going into the program. I had to go through extensive training on warning signs and protocols. I was even given an EpiPen for emergency use.

But yet, I moved forward.

For several months, I saw no ill effects from the program. If anything, I could sense my health improving.

Cat dander no longer set my eyes watering. And the start of spring no longer gave me the sniffles.

But one day, my chickens came home to roost. The side effects I had learned about became all too real.

I knew immediately that something was terribly wrong. Being forewarned of the risks gave me that advantage.

Yet, while I was able to act quickly to stem the tide of trouble, doing so gave me no peace of mind. It didn’t remove the sickening feeling of my body spiraling out of control, or the sheer terror of being on the brink.

The symptoms I felt were just as raw and vivid as those of food poisoning or other surprise ailments. Knowing the risks ahead of time didn’t comfort me one iota in the moment.

There’s no telling if I’ll start the program again. The decision is out of my hands.

But even if it weren’t, it would be far from a slam dunk decision for me to continue. My urge to climb back on the horse is tempered by the sensation of once bitten, twice shy. A life-threatening ailment will have that effect on you.

Either way, I now think far differently about the significance of being forewarned.

I now think the conventional wisdom is wrong.

You see, all too often, we lionize those who feel the fear and do it anyway. We downplay the danger while promoting bravery.

It’s as if being brave makes us Superman. As if seeing the brick wall around the corner will keep us from breaking our bones when we slam into it at full speed.

This narrative is simply not true.

The risks we expose ourselves to are real. The pain is real. The ensuing emotions are real.

Forewarned or not, we’re bound to experience them all when trouble rears its head.

Perhaps ignorance is bliss. Perhaps being forewarned is actually a disadvantage.

I guess it all depends on our perspective.

But either way, it’s important to note that bracing for impact will only get us so far in the event of disaster.

Proceed accordingly.

Own The Moment

The stars shine bright when the lights are brightest.

This line might seem a bit cliché, but there’s a measure of truth to it. The most captivating performances do tend to come from those who own the moment.

I still remember the first time I recognized how true this statement could be. I was 14 years old, watching Allen Iverson take over a game at Madison Square Garden. Under the bright lights of perhaps basketball’s most iconic arena, “The Answer” scored basket after basket down the stretch — silencing 20,000 jeering fans and salting away a win for the Philadelphia 76ers.

It was amazing to see Iverson take that stage, that moment, and make it his own. But then again, that’s what great athletes do. People remember Michael Jordan, Tom Brady and Derek Jeter not only because of their immense talent, but also because of their ability to own the moment on their sports’ biggest stages. Here in Dallas, Dirk Nowitzki will be remembered as much for willing the Mavericks to the 2011 NBA championship as he will be for his Hall of Fame-level career statistics.

Yes, the greatest athletes know how to own the moment. But they’re not the only ones.

We all have an opportunity to own our moments too.

You see, there are times in each of our lives where the lights are on us. Whether we’re talking about a presentation or a proposal, a career change or a self-improvement project, the objective remains the same — own it.

What does that mean?

  • It means putting your heart into it. Devoting yourself to the moment itself as much as the outcome of it.
  • It means staying prepared. Taking the time and initiative beforehand to ready yourself for that moment.
  • It means being confident. Understanding that success is a mindset, and that fear of failure has no place in it.

Ultimately, owning the moment means embracing an aura of achievement. When the spotlight is on our face, our vigilance, devotion and attitude will tell the world the type of person we are — that we will take that light and make it ours.

Now, I realize that this requires extra work, intense focus and some soul searching. That might not seem palatable, particularly for the strenuous situations we must get through.

Still, it’s crucial that we focus on owning all of the moments we come across. It’s tantamount to survival.

After all, no one remembers those who let the moments swallow them whole. It’s the ones who rise to the occasion who tend to see success and recognition.

So, embrace those moments still ahead of you. Be thankful for the opportunities they bring.

Prepare. Devote. Believe.

The outcome might not be entirely in your hands, but your outlook sure is.

Own the moment.