DEAR GENIUS,
You’re here because “good enough” was never your standard.
This newsletter is your weekly compass —packed with growth hacks, boundary-pushing insights, and the tools to unlock what’s possible.
Today’s Focus:
The Runway Within: Building Momentum for Your True Calling
⏳ 7-minute read | 📂 Last edition
Have you ever stared at the sky and seen those winged objects cruise through scattered clouds and wondered, how in the world are those things sustained up there?
When I was much younger, I heard people jokingly refer to airplanes as “iron birds.” Who would blame them?
According to the original plan, the only things that could surf the skies had to be birds—they were the only species created with wings by God.
One thing that fascinated me about airplanes was how tiny they appeared once they soared high in the sky, as if you could reach up and hold them in your palm. I recall one afternoon, which was in the pre-Internet age, so please pardon my naivety.
I argued with a friend that I would get myself a plane. He didn’t complain; he merely asked where I would keep it. Without hesitation, I responded, “In our car park.” He laughed so hard he nearly fell into tears.
At the time, we lived in a gated estate where each house had a designated parking spot. In my childish thinking, I would park my airplane right there next to our car.
My friend told me that the size of a real plane would require the entire street to be cleared, including all the buildings, for me ever to bring an airplane home.
I argued that planes weren’t that big. “In fact,” I declared, “the next time a plane flies by, I’ll call you to see it for yourself.”
True to my word, I dragged him outside one afternoon as I heard the thunderous sound of an airplane passing overhead. I pointed confidently at the distant speck and said, “How big can it be? Isn’t it just this tiny thing I’m looking at?”
He smiled knowingly and said, “Good luck,” then walked away, leaving me with my dreams and my delusions about size and distance.
Years later, when I finally stepped aboard my first commercial flight, the reality hit me like a revelation. The airplane that had appeared so small from the ground was massive—a metal giant that dwarfed everything around it. But the most profound moment came not when we were airborne, but when we were still earthbound, positioned at the beginning of the runway.
As I peered through the small window, watching the endless stretch of concrete ahead, I felt something stirring within me. The pilot’s voice crackled through the intercom: “Ladies and gentlemen, we’re cleared for takeoff.”
The engines began to roar, and slowly, deliberately, we started rolling forward. What struck me wasn’t the speed, not initially, but the patience—the methodical, unwavering commitment to the process.
The runway seemed to stretch forever. For what felt like an eternity, we were moving but not flying. We were committed to a path that demanded momentum, building speed incrementally, trusting that if we stayed true to the course, eventually we would defy gravity itself. And then, almost imperceptibly at first, I felt it—that magical moment when the wheels lifted off the ground, when forward motion transformed into upward flight.
That moment changed everything about how I view life and purpose.
The Runway of Your Current Reality
If you’re reading this, chances are you find yourself on your own kind of runway. Perhaps you’re in a job that pays the bills but doesn’t ignite your soul. Maybe you’re in a career that feels safe but small, watching others soar while you wonder if you’ll ever get your chance to fly.
You might be that person who knows—deep in your bones—that you were made for something more, something bigger, something that would make your childhood self proud.
You are not alone in this feeling. You’re not crazy for sensing that there’s more to your story.
Right now, you might feel like you’re taxiing endlessly on a runway that leads nowhere. The job feels routine, the days blend, and that dream you’ve been nurturing seems as distant as those tiny airplanes you once watched from the ground. But here’s what I learned from that first flight, and what every pilot knows: the runway isn’t your destination—it’s your preparation.
Every moment you spend in your current position, learning, growing, building skills, and gathering resources, you’re not just marking time. You’re building the momentum required for takeoff. The runway isn’t where you stay; it’s where you gather the speed necessary to soar.
The Physics of Purpose
Just as an airplane needs a certain velocity to achieve lift, your dreams need momentum to become a reality. The job you’re in right now—even if it feels beneath your potential—is generating that momentum.
Every skill you master, every relationship you build, every challenge you overcome, every paycheck you save, and every lesson you learn is adding to your forward motion.
The mistake most people make is thinking the runway is wasted time. They become so focused on the destination that they fail to appreciate the acceleration. They grow impatient with the process, forgetting that even the most powerful aircraft cannot simply leap from a standstill to flight.
Your current employment isn't your ceiling; it's your foundation. It's not your limit; it's your launching pad.
The Courage to Stay on Course
Here’s the most challenging part about runways: they test your faith. There’s a long stretch where you’re moving fast but still firmly planted on the ground. It’s during this phase that doubt creeps in. You start wondering if you’re on the right path, if you have what it takes, if you should just be content with staying grounded.
This is where most dreams die—not in failure, but in the abandonment of the process.
The pilot doesn’t abort takeoff because the plane hasn’t yet lifted off. They understand that liftoff is the result of sustained commitment to the runway.
Your breakthrough won't come because you abandon your current position in frustration; it will come because you used that position to build unstoppable momentum toward your true calling.
Building Your Velocity
While you’re on your runway, make every moment count:
Learn voraciously. Your current job is a classroom. What skills can you develop? What insights can you gain? What networks can you build? Extract every lesson, even from tasks that seem mundane.
Save strategically. Your paycheck isn’t just income; it’s investment capital for your future. Every penny saved is fuel for the journey ahead, resources that will give you the freedom to take calculated risks when opportunity knocks.
Create consistently. Don’t wait until you leave your job to start building your dream. Create on the side. Write, design, code, plan, prototype. Use your evenings and weekends to construct the vehicle that will eventually carry you to your destination.
Connect intentionally. Build relationships within and beyond your current industry. The person sitting next to you today might become your business partner, mentor, or first customer tomorrow.
Prepare systematically. Study your target destination. What does success look like in your dream field? What skills will you need? What challenges will you face? Use your current stability to prepare for future uncertainty.
The Moment of Liftoff
There will come a moment—and you’ll know it when it arrives—when your velocity reaches the critical point. When your skills, resources, network, and opportunities align. When the momentum you’ve been building becomes unstoppable, forward motion, that’s when you’ll feel the wheels leave the ground.
But here’s the beautiful thing: by the time that moment arrives, you won’t be the same person who started on the runway. You’ll be stronger, wiser, more prepared, and more deserving of the flight ahead.
Your Wings Were Always There
Remember those “iron birds” I wondered about as a child? The miracle wasn’t that humans learned to fly—it was that we learned to create the conditions that make flight inevitable. We didn’t grow wings; we built them. We didn’t defy physics; we learned to work with it.
Your wings aren't something you're born with or without. They're something you build, day by day, choice by choice, commitment by commitment. Right now, as you sit in that job that feels too small, you're not killing time—you're building wings.
The sky that once seemed reserved for others is waiting for you, too. But first, embrace your runway. Commit to the process. Build your momentum. Trust that the same laws that lift iron birds into the clouds will lift you toward your destiny.
Your takeoff is coming. Stay on course.
The world needs to see what you look like in flight.
Until I write to you again, don’t stop being a Genius!
James Iroro
The Genius Note
I hope this letter has inspired you in some way.
If you’re ready to elevate your life to the next level, I invite you to explore my latest book, The New Season Checklist. In it, I outline eight key pillars that, when applied, can unlock transformative change.
Engaging with these pillars will lay the foundation for a life shift that aligns with your goals and dreams.
Don’t wait—get your copy now and step into the magic that awaits you on the other side.
Looking forward to seeing the new season unfold in your life.
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