The 99 Product Challenge

About 15 years ago, I got a very public reminder that my default operating system is… let’s call it “Fast, Smart, and Occasionally a Bit Too Sure of Itself.”

I’ve always been a quick mover when it comes to projects and getting work done. I’m the impatient type. Sometimes I’m the smart type. And when those two traits share a ride, they tend to produce a third: shortcuts. Lots of them.

To be clear, that combo can be a superpower. If you’re impatient and smart, you can make things happen quickly. You can ship. You can solve. You can untangle a mess while other people are still scheduling a meeting to discuss scheduling a meeting.

But it doesn’t come for free.

The cost is usually some mix of sloppiness, short-sightedness, and risk-taking that more cautious humans might describe as “unacceptable,” “deeply alarming,” or “why are you like this.” I’ve historically been pretty comfortable with that trade, right up until the moment the trade collects its payment.

Which brings us to Georgia.

I was on the speaking circuit back then, and I’d flown out to give a keynote at a small conference. The night before the event, they held the classic speaker meet-and-greet. Picture a lovely little hotel bar: drinks, name tags, polite laughter, that warm pre-conference buzz where everyone pretends they’re relaxed.

And then, out of nowhere, I started having chest pain.

Not the subtle “huh, that’s odd” kind. The “this is it, isn’t it” kind.

I panicked. Dizzy. Sweaty. The full greatest-hits album. I was absolutely convinced I was having a heart attack, which is a particularly memorable way to introduce yourself to a room full of people who are going to watch your keynote the next morning.

One minute I’m making small talk. The next, I’m lying on the floor while future audience members look down at me as I get wheeled out by hotel staff… and yes, I’m pretty sure paramedics were involved.

Spoiler: I was fine.

It was a panic attack. My body had simply decided to file a formal complaint about the way I’d been running my life: too much speed, too much pressure, not enough attention to the boring essentials like sleep, calm, and being a carbon-based life form with limits.

It was raw. It was embarrassing. It was also clarifying.

After that, I did what many people do after a big, blinking warning light: I slowed down. I took better care of myself. I tried to craft a healthier pace. I re-learned the ancient art of not flooring the gas pedal every time an idea popped into my head.

So you’d think the story ends there, right?

“Tom learned his lesson. Tom now lives serenely. Tom eats salads and meditates and never tries to do ten things at once.”

Reader, Tom did not.

A few years later, I wound up back in the hospital again. Nothing severe, but I did spend the night. The diagnosis? Acid reflux. Basically my body saying, “It’s not your heart, buddy. It’s your love affair with spicy food… and stress.”

And that’s the part that makes me laugh now, a slightly nervous laugh, because I walked away from both episodes with no lasting damage. No dramatic medical plot twist. Just two stern reminders that being “smart enough to get away with it” isn’t the same as being “wise enough to stop doing it.”

Fast-forward to recently, when I started building out my “99 products” web page and kicked off this grand, slightly unhinged experiment: 99 products in 30 days.

Look, I can come up with ideas fast. It’s one of my favorite tricks. It’s also one of my most reliable ways to accidentally turn my life into a high-speed juggling act where every ball is labeled “IMPORTANT” and half of them are on fire.

And as I watched myself ramp up again, I had a familiar thought:

Before I end up back in a hospital bed because I tried to outsmart biology, maybe it’s time to slow down.

So I did.

If you’ve noticed that my recent progress on 99 products has been… how shall we put this… minimal, that’s not because I don’t care. It’s because I do. If I’m going to do a good job with it, it deserves to be done well.

The good news is that slowing down hasn’t meant stopping. It’s meant focusing.

Instead of sprinting across 99 ideas like a caffeinated hummingbird, I’ve been putting my energy into one thing that actually matters deeply to me: Disruption Dynamics and the Business Agility Assessment I’ve been building to help people create roadmaps for success in their businesses.

And the pace is different. Intentionally different.

It’s not “as fast as I can.” It’s not “with as many shortcuts as I can get away with.” It’s “do it right.” It’s quality, focus, and making something I’m proud of, not just something I can ship before breakfast.

I’m sharing this because I don’t think I’m alone.

There are a lot of us out here who are modestly talented and modestly ambitious, which is a delightful combination… right up until it turns into a lifestyle where your calendar looks like a game of Tetris played by a raccoon.

If you’ve ever found yourself moving so fast you can’t tell whether you’re building momentum or just generating chaos, consider this your gentle permission slip to ease off the throttle.

My intent, for now, is to take my time and build products I can fall in love with. Products I hope others can fall in love with too. Products that don’t require an ER visit to complete.