otownrex

[otownrex]

Ride The Wild Surf - Jan & Dean

It's nineteen-seventy something and my parents had recently purchased a condo at Cocoa Beach.

My Mom has always loved the beach, coming from Upstate New York, her dream was to be in the sun, surf and most of all warmth of the Florida sun. This was my parents' chance to make a dream come true while making a good real estate investment.

Mom and I spent most summers in the condo. Dad would come over on the weekends and Mom and I would stay from the day school let out in the spring until the day before school started in the fall. It is some of my fondest memories growing up.r

On our first summer, I found an attraction, more of a longing, to be a surfer. I would watch the other kids out on their boards and think to myself "That looks like the most fun ever."

After watching the other kids, and quite frankly many adults, surfing, I asked my Mom if I could get a surfboard. The immediate response was, "No, you'll hit your head and drown." This was a typical reply from my Mom. She nixed everything from baseball to skateboarding with some story that would always end with me dead or in a wheelchair for the rest of my life.

As the days passed and I continued to "stalk" the surfers, I see one of the guys throw his board in the dumpster outside our condo. This was my chance, I thought. So a dumpster diving did I go.

It was a beat-up board that was missing most of its fiberglass skin exposing the rough polyurethane core.

I jumped out of the dumpster and sprinted to the shore like Indian Jones running from the natives to escape to the plane. I found to my delight the thing was seaworthy and I took off on my maiden voyage.

I also quickly found that surfing is an acquired skill. The other guys made it look so easy. See a wave, paddle a bit, jump up and ride the face of the wave. Lather, rinse, repeat.

There is an art to surfing. Wave selection is first. You have to judge which wave as the right size, speed, and surfable wall surface to give you a good ride.

Next, you have to be able to paddle to the right part of the wave and at the right speed for the wave to pick up the board and move it forward and determine which direction the wave is breaking to give you the longest ride.

Then you have to be able to get to your feet in one fluid motion and then balance at the correct point of the board to stay on top while moving at anywhere from seven to ten miles per hour. Faster on a bigger wave.

It's a bit like doing burpees on the hood of a car going down a bumpy road but, much more fun.

There are no words to describe the feeling of freedom, of being one with a power so much bigger than yourself.

Communing with nature as you ride the wave. I have had times when there were porpoises swimming in the wave I was riding and jumping out of the water right in front of me. Watching the pelicans dive from the sky to get their breakfast and seeing stingrays leap out of the water, just for fun.

I love to see my FaceBook friends that are still living their passion for surfing. As I improve my physicality I will soon be in the lineup calling out "Outside!" as a new set comes at us to ride the wild surf.

Live, Love, Matter

#IODcommitted #ImpactoftheDay #PoweredbyImpactClub

#StoryAthlete

#BeingVsBecoming

#DefinedByTheStoryWeTellOurSelf

[otownrex]

Don’t Worry, Be Happy - Bobby McFerrin

[otownrex]

Float On - The Floaters

It's current day and my mentor and business partner Ryan asks a question none of us as an adult like to think about.

What was that question? "How many days do you have left and how do you increase your return on time?"

This question gets asked in our society a variety of different ways: "Where would you go if you died tonight?" "What would you do different if you knew you only had one week to live?" I'm sure you have heard them all.

But, have you done the math? According to the CDC the average life expectancy in the US is 78.6 years. They have charts that go into more detail so being a white male age 58 they say I will live another 24.9 years or 9,088 days.

Compared to others in my Storyathlete group who have upwards of 17,000 days a certain reality check kicks in.

I ask myself how many days have I hidden from my own life. Those days where I want to be left alone. The phone rings or a text comes in and I hesitate to answer because it may be bad news or some type of confrontation that I don't want to deal with that day.

Or worse yet the inconsequential trivia that makes up a good part of my life.

I am the assistant manager in our office. One of my roles is as a trainer for new agents. How many trainings have I planned an prepared to have no one show up. How many wasted days will I allow to take up my precious 9,000 days left?

How many days are consumed in business meetings attended each year to move forward a company where I don't have any stock? Will the owners take care of my family when I'm gone? The answer to that is no. Will I be remembered for more than a day or two after my demise by the owners? Will they even attend my funeral?

The days of getting by or doing fine are over. I will now focus on obtaining my highest and best return on time.

With a grandson on the way at the end of this year, priorities are changing and a sense of urgency that I have not felt for a while is hitting me like a ton of bricks.

How will I increase my return on time? Reading, writing, reflecting and taking action on the things that are important to me and those around me.

Helping others find their stories and instructing them on how to share their story in a way that will help them define who they are and allow them to gather followers that will buy into what they are selling. "I like that way that guy thinks."

By crafting messages that resonate with followers that are looking for a path to help them reduce weight, become stronger mentally, strengthen relationships and increase their business through story. To become a Storyathlete.

Helping others in need in my community through elevated philanthropy using Impact Club as a platform.

I have a long path ahead and a short time to get there. #IODcommitted #ImpactoftheDay #PoweredbyImpactClub #StoryAthlete #BeingVsBecoming #DefinedByTheStoryWeTellOurSelf

[otownrex]

How Deep Is Your Love - The Bee Gees

It's two-thousand and something and my wife, Kathie, is watching Rue Paul's Drag Race. I did not expect to gain words of wisdom from the show, but I did.

Rue ends the show with "If you can't love yourself, how the hell you gonna love somebody else?"

There are a plethora of self-help books, podcasts, videos and seminars that will cost you hundreds if not thousands of dollars to attend. Much of what they teach comes down to that simple phrase.

"If you can't love yourself, how the hell you gonna love somebody else?"

I have been thinking about quote quite a bit lately.

It seems that when I succumb to my lesser-self, that self says the status quo is fine, the lesser-self says "it's ok to skip the gym today or eat like crap." That lesser-self that abuses the relationship I have between my mind and my body, my relationships, and my business.

This un-loving self then affects those around me. When I get home from work I sit down have dinner, fall asleep in front of the TV and utter curt yes or no answers to Kathie.

This un-loving self spends most of the time feeling sorry for myself. "If I was younger. If I was richer. If I weighed forty pounds less." It is a selfish and weak mindset.

This un-loving self spends time in recluse, not relating with friends and relatives. Wanting to shut out the world and stay in the dark safe place where there is no conflict there is only the dull roar of silence that will suffocate the better or heroic self. . As I continue with my 1% Journey, I start the day with gratitude for the people in my life both near and far and with a good portion of love for myself in starting a new day with the commitment to show up just a little bit better than yesterday.

So…How deep is your love? Live, Love, Matter #IODcommitted #ImpactoftheDay #PoweredbyImpactClub #StoryAthlete #BeingVsBecoming #DefinedByTheStoryWeTellOurSelf

[otownrex]

"Son, who do you think wrote your name on the back of the house?" My Dad asks as we sit on the back porch of our Maitland home. It's 1960 something and I thought I could get away with blaming Jon the neighbor boy next door.

"I don't know, maybe Jonny did it." I say bold-faced and thinking I could put one over on my old man. Never in my short life had I seen my Dad move as fast as he did that day.

With the fluid motion of Neo from the Matrix, Dad was up out of the chair, he bent down grabbed my ankle and had me upside down, suspended in air, dangling while beating the tar out of my backside. I can remember to this day the beating I took.

Later that day, with my bottom still stinging, I was informed that not only was he upset with the fact that I had lied to his face but that I had blamed the dirty deed on my boyhood friend.

Why had I lied? Was I trying to get out of a beating? The one I took I'm sure was worse than the one I was going to get in the first place. Did I think that blaming Jonny would sound credible? What was my motivation?

I am fascinated with the subject of motivation. Often when I read or watch the news, I wonder "What motivated that person to do take that action?"

When the report about the Turpin's came out, you know the couple that held their thirteen children hostage for years. I was curious what would make someone do that? Some say "they wanted to protect their children from the outside world." Others report that the Mother was into witchcraft and the occult that she was "Selling her soul to the devil."

In politics, I also wonder about motivation. "Why would a billionaire, a non-politician, want to be President?" It looks to me his life and that of his family would be much easier had he not aspired to that position. President Trump could be playing golf, with his grandchildren, enjoying the fruits of his labor at the age of seventy-two.

Whether you agree with him or not, I think most of us would agree that had he known the scrutiny he going through was coming he would have opted for the golf course.

In daily life, I constantly check in with my motivation. Some days are clearer than others.

I have narrowed my focus down to four areas. Body, Relationships, Mind, and Business

In term of my body, I am exercising more and eating better. As I creep ever closer to sixty, I realize that what I do today affects how I live my twilight years. I want to be surrounded by grandchildren as we play in the backyard. Unencumbered with the need for a walker or wheelchair.

In my relationships, with my wife and children, I am motivated to be a better husband and father. In my life as an entrepreneur, I have the time flexibility to take care of them when they need my help.

In my mind, I have the ability to expand my knowledge with easy access to books, video's courses online. We are in a time were access to experts in any field is unprecedented. I take advantage of that whenever I can.

In my business, I continue to grow through my association with my group of Story Athletes. I participate in Impact Club a group that helps others create a movement to improve their communities through elevated philanthropy.

What is my overarching motivation? To be a better person than when I started out writing my name on the back of my parent's house and blaming my friend. As the song goes..

People like us—we don’t Need that much, just some- One that starts, Starts the spark in our bonfire hearts

Live, Love Matter

#IODcommitted #ImpactoftheDay #PoweredbyImpactClub #StoryAthlete

[otownrex]

Long live the pioneers, rebels and mutineers - X Ambassador

"Hey, Rex!", shouts Scott over the din of the lunchroom crowd at Winter Park High. It's 1977ish and Scott had gotten wind that I play guitar.

Scott was a true blue rock and roll guitar player and was forming a garage band.

"Dude, I hear you are pretty good at rhythm guitar and I need a backup. You up for it?" he asks as he pins me between the lunch lady and one of the football jocks.

The jock sneers at me and grumbles, "I hear you're playing at the Crew party next weekend Salsman." addressing Scott and me. "Don't you have your band together yet? This is going to be a train wreck." the jock predicts.

I shrug and say "Sure." Now keep in mind, I've never played in a band before. All my skills displayed in the safety of my bedroom, playing along with the likes of Lynyrd Skynyrd and Led Zeppelin. Never with anyone else playing with me.

"We practice at my house at 4:30 after school. Be there and bring your amp." Scott instructs me.

Scott was a good player. I had seen him before at various impromptu lunchtime concerns at school that he a couple of other guys would put on from time to time. He was my gold standard. The Pace Car.

The rest of the day was spent in panic mode. "Would I remember the chords? Would I be good enough or would they laugh me out of the garage?" "Would I be able to keep up?"

As it turns out I was able to hang and I was even good enough to play lead on a couple of songs that Scott did not know. We played the Crew party and that night I was a rock and roll star.

Today I have other "Pace Cars" that inspire and give me a benchmark to shoot for. Someone to emulate.

First is Michael Della Pia. Michael is an entrepreneur. The proud owner of two computer companies. One for corporate clients and one that helps regular folks. He also has started with amazing success a line of nut butters. The company is The Nutty Peanut.

Mike is growing The Nutty Peanut from online to popup events and is on the shelves in many of the local Lucky's Markets.

Mike might seem like he has "overnight" success but I know there is a lot of hard work behind the scenes that made all this happen. His intensity to achieve a goal helps influence how I approach my business. The grit that it takes to get up each morning to make things happen.

Besides his business acumen, he also is an inspiration in regards to health. He eats a totally plant-based diet and is a heck of a runner.

The other "Pace Car" is Ryan Fletcher. I first came to know about him through his podcast Agent Marketing Syndicate. He has over one hundred episodes and is working on starting a new completely different podcast in the coming months.

Through persistence and continual study of his philosophies some three years ago I became a member of his tribe.

We call ourselves Spartan and Story Athletes.

Becoming a member of his group is the most beneficial business relationship I have. In reflecting, it is not simply a business relationship it is more a band of brothers and sisters that see a better way to do business by impacting the community. By relating through stories, "I like the way that person thinks" not what marketers call "Unique Selling Propositions". By creating multiple streams of income unrelated to real estate that help people achieve goals related to mind, body, relationships, and business.

Ryan or "Fletch" as most call him has one of those minds that work on a different level.

Although I am almost twenty years his senior, when I enter into conversations with him it's like I'm back in high school.

The depth of knowledge and divergent thinking is such that he connects dots that many would not consider connecting.

We had a meeting a couple of weeks ago. About twenty-five of us that share ideas and learn about new ventures that Fletch is working on for us to be a part of.

During a downtime one in our group was working with Fletch on a project and stated "I thought building a business would be more glamorous. It's just hard frickin' work."

I know that behind both Mike and Fletch' s success is a lot of hard frickn' work that no one sees. And that pushes me forward to do the work, take the time and see where the Pace Cars lead me.

Live, Love Matter #IODcommitted #ImpactoftheDay #PoweredbyImpactClub #StoryAthlete

[otownrex]

You’re A Mean One Mr. Grinch - Thurl Ravenstock

[otownrex]

[otownrex]

I Can’t Stop This Feeling

"So are you finished with this foolishness?" Mom asks. "Yeah", chimes in Dad, they are going to find you on the side of the road dead from a heart attack." We are sitting in our family business on a Monday in 1990 something.

I had finished my fourth marathon and, as usual, the day after any marathon I am limping and struggling to get up and out of my office chair.

"You're right", I replied, "I'll start smoking and boozing and I'll start sitting on my butt in front of the TV."

Little did I know that several years later I would be put on the sideline of running. There is nothing like the frustration of not being able to do something you love.

For the past eighteen months, I have been fighting Plantar Faucitis. The symptom is a stabbing pain in my heal that is exacerbated after I walk for a longish distance and specifically when I run.

I didn't realize how much this setback would affect me mentally. When I see someone running I go through a self-beat down. Then I privately berate the runner. "Sure you go run. I use to do that. You suck." I yell to myself as I drive down the road I use to run.

After several months of self-pity, I decided to do something about it. I contacted my running coach Susan Paul I asked her what I could do to speed my recovery. Susan suggested finding someone that could do the Graston Technique.

The Graston Technique is a series of lip biting, tear making appointments where the physical therapist or chiropractor takes a blunt knifelike device and runs it up and down your foot continuing up to your calf. Talk about painful.

With pain is growth. It has taken several months but I am back on the roads. Rebuilding my endurance. Am I cured? No. Can I deal with substantially less pain? Yes. Did I learn the lesson that I should have gone to the therapist much sooner than I did? Yes!

In my business, setbacks can be a learning lesson.

Clients that don't use my Documented Approach to add value to their homes are often met with the pain of accepting a lowball offer. The Seller will often ask, isn't my home worth the higher price?

They beat themselves up with worry and doubt that they will ever sell their home.

The same client that finally employs my Approach is met with the success of a quicker sale and higher offers.

The perceived value that is exhibited through presenting the home in the best possible light makes all the difference between success and failure.

I can't stop this feeling that we can all improve our body, mind, relationships, and business by taking positive action.

Live, Love, Matter #IODCommitted #PoweredbyImpactClub

[otownrex]

True Blue - Madonna

He sits in the corner of my room. Yellow eyes and pale skin. Looking supernatural, not of this world. The vile language spews out like acid, burning holes into everything that surrounds him. How could this creature get in my room? What did I do to invite him in? How did I allow this to happen?

The terrible things it says to me. You are a liar! You are not good enough! You are a fake!

Nonstop day after day, year after year, this creature lived with me. Sitting in the corner of my bedroom every night, as my family was sleeping.

He would wake me up at 2:32 am most nights. Like a bolt of lightning hitting me as I lie in bed. Sweat running down my back as I soaked the bed in my sleep with perspiration. I would jolt out of bed from a deep sleep, looking around for the beast and yes it was there.

When the creature got tired of attacking me directly it would use subversive tactics.

Did you pay that bill yesterday? Did you lock the front door? Was the contingency date in that contract tomorrow, or did it expire yesterday?

I use to spend so much time, effort and emotion lying to myself and to others. "How you doing?" someone will ask . And what is the typical response?

"Just fine!" while forcing a smile. In the meantime, I got news my Mom has Alzheimer's and I have to figure out what how I am going to take care of them as well as my wife and kids.

I like most folks I know are always a work in progress. Working toward continual improvement.

I am currently reading a book that is part of a life learning system. The title, The Warrior Book by Garrett J White. In it he shares what he and others that follow him had to admit to themselves.

Stop f**ing lying!

He starts with a code and the first initiative is to Be Real. This means to see the facts for what they are. Be honest with yourself. Don't look at your situation as the way you "wish" it was or the way you "want" it to be.

Recently this truth came in a self-evaluation of my physical capabilities.

In the past, I have run over twenty marathons and a slew of half-marathons. My average marathon time was between four hours and thirty minutes to four hours and forty-five minutes. I have not run a full or a half marathon in over two years.

I am mentally prepared to start training for a half-marathon. First, I had to be honest with myself and the others that I run with.

I had to come to grips with the fact that in my current condition I would be running closer to a five-hour thirty-minute marathon pace.

This was a hard realization. "The old gray mare ain't what she use to be." Was a song my Dad would sing and my running career reflects the song.

Does this mean I won't strive to improve? That I won't train to get stronger and faster? No!

It means I have to look at the facts as they are and take action to make a change. Will the change happen overnight? No! Consistent training and dealing with the small week to week, month to month improvements is the path that lies ahead.

Sometimes in my business, I have to have this honest conversation with my buyers and sellers. This may be the house you wish you could have but this is the house you can afford without becoming "house poor". Or . You may think your house is wonderfully decorated but that purple wall has got to go.

Does that mean that my client can't take action to improve their finances or change the color of the wall? No! Again, consistent action, even incremental action can make a world of difference.

I'll keep you posted with my running progress. The new marathon training season starts on June 4th!

We all may want to wish the facts are different. To get to the finish line though we have to be True Blue.

Live, Love, Matter #IODCommitted

[otownrex]

One Awkward Moment - Casting Crowns

[otownrex]

'You look great! What's your secret?' Mick asks me as we pass each other in the hall in our corporate headquarters. Mick hadn't seen me since May of thi

[otownrex]

Life's Simple Pleasures Are The Best - Bobby McFerrinI look around the restaurant at the other couples who have the same expression on their face. They mu

[otownrex]

Because You’re Mine, I’ll Walk The Line

Because You're Mine, I Walk The Line - Johnny Cash

It was nineteen seventy something and I am attending Maitland Junior High School. I'm not sure how it happened but my Dad had run into the coach for the school's swim team and Dad signed me up for the team.

"Son", my Dad started, which was never followed by anything good, "I met Mr. Lamar today, he is the coach for the swim team. I know you like to swim and are pretty good at it, I went ahead and signed you up for the team."

"I like to swim and dive for fun and show off to the girls at the pool, Dad." I reply "Do I have to wear a speedo?"

With a quizzical look on his face, he says "I don't know what a speedo is but practice is after school at the community pool. You can ride your bike there."

The next day was practice and I show up with a towel, wearing my baggies that I wear when I go surfing.

The coach looks at me, "You Hunter? We don't wear suits like that. You need a speedo. Try to get red and gold so you match our team colors. Come back to practice when you have the right one."

Embarrassed, I hop on my bike and high tail it out of there, not sure I'd ever go back. At dinner, Dad asks how practice went. I mumble "I need to get a speedo before I can practice with the team." Dad instructs my Mom, "Go get him a speedo, whatever that is."

The next day before practice Mom and I go to Denmark Sports and find a red and gold speedo so off I go to practice.

Now I'll just let you know a pre-teen boy and a speedo is a bad combination. I'll just say I had to concentrate on swimming and diving and not looking around at the girls running around in their speedos. If I hadn't kept my eyes on the pool, I know I would have been kicked off the team and in today's politically correct environment I would have been reported to the police.

Practices came and went until we had our first meet against another school. By this time Coach Lamar decided I was best used as a diver and not a swimmer. Our dive team consisted of me, my neighbor Jon Imhoof and one other fellow.

At the meet, the opposing team had two divers. Diving is judged on the degree of difficulty of a dive and how well you execute the chosen dive. You give the judges your line up of dives and then go for it. Based on the combined score is how you place in the contest. I was dead last that day.

More meets, more dead last positions were my fate. I wanted to quit.

Why go on to the practices and get the same results? I was community pool good but not competition good. In fact, after the fifth meet, I came up with an excuse to the Coach that I would have to quit because my Dad wanted me to go to work. Little did I know the Coach would call my Dad later that evening.

"Son," my Dad said "I got a call from Coach Lamar. What the hell kind of story did you tell him?"

I stammered and stuttered for a good while until I finally admitted, "I'm no good at this Dad. I want to quit." Whereupon I got a good slap to the side of the head and was told, "Hunters never quit what they start boy. You will be back in the pool tomorrow."

And I was. And I went to the meets until the end of the season. Coming in first one time and close to last most of the other meets. The one thought that kept running through my mind was that even when I feel like quitting. "Hunters never quit!"

I have done my best to live my life by that motto. Sometimes I may have to take a few moments to rest or recover but I will never give up.

Live, Love, Matter #IODcommitted

[otownrex]

Please, Please Me Do - The Beatles'You are too nice a guy, Rex.' the manager at my office has told me on several occasions. I've heard this not only from h

[otownrex]

And appetites a human vice I'm guilty of - MelanieIt's 1980 something and my new wife is once again indulging me by going to a concert at The Great Souther

[otownrex]

I Just Dropped In To See What Condition My Condition Was In

I Just Dropped In To See What Condition My Condition Was In - The First Edition

It's odd how it creeps up on you one day as if by magic, you notice that your double chin is starting to add an addition to the structure and that your towel you wrap around your body no longer wraps with the same amount of extra material it use to.

As I shave my face, I can't help notice that I don't really recognize the person looking back at me.

"Honey, I call from our bathroom, Are these the same towels we have always had? I think I must have a size smaller than the usual bath size towel you give me."

From the front computer room, she yells, "Nope same ones!" Bless her heart she would never come out and say "Hey, Bubba! You are packing on the pounds." Although we both knew that is exactly what was happening.

It is at that point I have to come clean with myself. "You let yourself get fat...again."

It was the middle of the winter season of our marathon training program and I could not keep up with the group much less lead it as my position in the program labeled me.

I had every excuse in the book. It's too cold, it's too windy, it's too dark. I knew deep inside that I couldn't keep up because I had all but stopped training on my own. Showing up on Saturdays and hoping that this one day a week run would not be the death of me.

And the food. Pizza, yes. Beer, yes. Scotch, sure. Fast food from every outlet around me. I was on a downhill slide to Rollie Pollie Rex, in fact, I was already there.

I stepped away from the running group partly because of a nagging case of Plantar fasciitis and partly due to my self-loathing of not training in the manner I knew I should have throughout the running season.

I worked on controlling my diet on my own for several months but I was weak. The Sirens call of wings, beer and peanut M&Ns were too much and I would circum to their call each and every night.

It was then I realized I need a coach. Not a coach like in football or in running but a food coach. I needed someone that would hold me accountable when I wouldn't hold myself accountable.

I believe the accountability goes hand in hand with what goes unmeasured goes undone. It's odd that in most situations in life I'm independent. Got a problem? I've got it covered. When it comes to the intake of food into my own body and I'm a hot mess.

After much research, I landed with Peak Health in Winter Garden. They are helping with the type of food I eat and redefining how I relate to food as a fuel and not as a source of comfort or as a reward system.

The change has opened up a whole new thought process toward my health and how it relates to my longevity and quality of life. A whole different relationship.

Live, Love, Matter #IODcommitted