I was the kid who started too late.
My parents wouldn't let me play organized soccer; they were sure it would wreck my grades. I started at 16, years behind everyone, and was told I'd never make a varsity team. I made one, at the University of Waterloo.
To prove a different point, I set out to bike across Canada. It took three attempts over four years, through heat waves, bears outside the tent, and rhabdomyolysis on the final ride, but I finished it. I ride to spread a little metta along the way: may all beings be happy, and may you persevere in the face of adversity.
Then an SUV T-boned me on my motorcycle and ended the soccer dream. So I pivoted to dentistry, with a transcript full of failed classes, because I'd never planned to need it.
The DAT was my one shot, and biology and chemistry were almost entirely foreign to me. So I treated studying like a sport: find what separates elite performers from average ones, then drill it relentlessly. The scores above are the result.
Here's the thing: the best players rarely make the best coaches. When something comes naturally, you often can't explain what you're actually doing to make it work. I was never the natural. I had to take every skill apart to understand it, and that is exactly what makes it teachable.
If you've been doubted, if you're starting behind, if you've got something to prove to someone, that's exactly who I want in the room.
Read about the first ride →