The Yamaha

December 31, 2025. New Year's Eve. Other people buy champagne and fireworks. I buy a Yamaha YZ250F.

Motocross. In Cyprus. On the last day of the year.

If you'd asked me six months earlier whether I'd ever ride motocross, I would have laughed. I'm the guy who sits at a laptop for 14 hours. Not the guy who jumps hills at 80 km/h.

But that's exactly what changed.

Marios

January 2, 2026. Two days after the purchase. I meet Marios. A Cypriot. We start talking — about motorcycles, about Cyprus, about life here.

He says: "Come with me. I'll show you something."

He takes me to a private motocross community. A group of locals who built their own track together. Private. No association, no club, no rules. Just people who ride.

On the first day I did 3 laps and thought I was dying. My entire body was screaming. My arms were shaking. I could barely hold the bike.

On the second day I did 10 laps. On the third, 20.

My Doctor

The Yamaha is my doctor. Not a therapist, not a coach, not a book. A motorcycle.

Every time I overwork myself. When thoughts spin in circles. When I'm sitting at the laptop and nothing is clear anymore. I stand up, put on my gear, and ride to the track.

And then something happens: Everything goes quiet.

Not because riding a motorcycle is quiet — the opposite. But because it's so dangerous that your brain has no choice. You MUST be focused. Every second. Every meter.

The Next 20–50 Meters

In motocross there's a rule: Always look at the next 20–50 meters ahead of you. Not at the rear wheel of the rider in front. Not at the horizon. Not behind you. Only the next 20–50 meters.

Those 20–50 meters decide whether you make it home in one piece. Or not.

A rock. A turn. A rut. If you look too far ahead, you miss the rock. If you look too close, you don't see the turn coming.

20–50 meters. Not more. Not less.

Why I'm Telling You This

Because business works the same way.

Most people look too far ahead. "In 5 years I want to…" "My 10-year plan…" "Once I hit six figures…"

Or they look too close. "What do I post today?" "What color should my logo be?" "Should I do Instagram or TikTok?"

The answer is at 20–50 meters. Close enough to see the next rock. Far enough to prepare for the turn.

In business that means: What do I need to do THIS WEEK so that something happens NEXT MONTH? Not today. Not in 5 years. This week → next month.

After the Track

The moment I get home I'm a different person. Fully focused. Clear head. Ready.

Because my brain spent 3 hours doing nothing but: survive. And after that, everything else is suddenly easy. Answer emails? Easy. Write code? No problem. Make a hard decision? Sure — after what I just went through on the track, this is a joke.

The Yamaha taught me more about focus than any business book I've ever read.

What I Learned

You need something bigger than your business. Something that forces you to stop thinking and start being. For me it's motocross. For you it might be surfing, climbing, martial arts — anything dangerous enough to shut your brain up.

If all you do is work, you don't become more productive. You just become more tired. Real focus doesn't come from working — it comes from stopping.