Nike revolutionized branding in the 1980's with the Air Jordan athletic shoe, worn and endorsed by the basketball great Michael Jordan. Basketball players and wannabes around the world purchased the shoe, hoping to "be like Mike" on some level, and the celebrity athletic shoe was born.
 
A similar phenomenon happens in the corporate world. While we likely will not be seeing aspiring CEO's wearing Nike Air Jack Welsh's anytime soon, there is a tendency to purchase everything from packaged software to particular methodologies based on the marquee firms that are "wearing" them and showing great success.
 
Recall for a moment Six Sigma, which GE and Motorola implemented to stellar results. In the past decade a stream of also-rans have flocked to Six Sigma touting it in their annual report and sending a stream of staffers off for Six Sigma anointment. While most of the foundations of Six Sigma are solid and beneficial, these companies assumed they would magically reap the methodology's benefits without otherwise paying it any heed. Similar to the overweight and low skilled basketballer (i.e. yours truly) lacing up his Air Jordan's with visions of sailing through the air over the heads of competition, envisioning slam junking the ball with tongue mockingly extended, only to end up outclassed and winded in the middle of the court, these companies were relying on some notion of magic rather than hard work.
 
Whether you are an aspiring athlete or Fortune 500 CEO looking to supercharge business as usual, there is nothing wrong with seeking inspiration from an industry leader. Where we fail is assuming a superficial trait, from shoes to a trendy methodology, is the ticket to quick improvement. The finest specimens of either discipline rarely land there through happenstance or a magic talisman, rather hard work, steely resolve and a willingness to be a maverick land them in a position of success. Look beyond the superficial trappings of success, and you will likely find its true seeds, although they will take far more to implement than simply lacing up your shoes.

Free, or otherwise unsolicited feedback is generally worth even less than you paid for it. From the teeming masses on the internet, willing to fire off a "nastygram" at the slightest provocation, to the colleague or bystander who offers their unsolicited thoughts on your appearance, you could spend a lifetime considering the never ending stream of feedback that arrives at our doorsteps uninvited. While occasionally well-intentioned, letting this feedback affect us is like the hitter in a major-league baseball game paying heed to the shouted commentary on everything from the quality of his swing to the girth of his mother. Just as the hitter ignores the shouts from the masses and focuses on the guidance of his coaches and manager, we should seek feedback from a cadre of family, friends and trusted advisors, and ignore the rest.

Until relatively recently, I was not much of a conversationalist. After a few pleasantries, I would end up smiling through silence, or staring at my shoes counting the lines in the leather. One of the most effective tools I have found for nearly unending conversational fodder is the Wall Street Journal. To the uninitiated, the WSJ has a reputation of containing countless articles citing trivialities about markets and corporations that only a CEO or stockbroker could love. That could not be farther from the truth, and the WSJ contains a wealth of general and human interest stories on a daily basis, covering everything from sports to the latest trends in competitive knitting.
 
After spending approximately fifteen minutes each morning scanning the paper, after a few months I can talk with nearly anyone about nearly anything - from the aspirations of those trying to buck the caste system in India, to the recent economic expansion in the capital of Mongolia. While the Journal has an obvious and stated bias towards free markets and a pro-business stance, topics like the failings of the US healthcare system and the plight of immigrants are regularly and fairly presented.
 
I subscribe online, which is not only more compatible with my travel but also allows you to read the international editions of the WSJ. If I am speaking with a European client, a quick glance at the European Edition lets me know what is in the news in that country. Furthermore, the WSJ writers frequently use words that require the deployment of a dictionary, and the paper has expended my vocabulary with an array of new words. Even if the WSJ is not your cup of tea, I heartily recommend some national or international newspaper to round out your knowledge base, vocabulary and conversational ability.

I have recently begun a fitness regime in an attempt to "streamline operations" and get in some sort of shape other than round. Seeking an activity I can do while travelling, with a minimum of equipment, I turned to running and found the appropriately named "Couch to 5K" nine week program on a running website. The appeal was instant, as I met the initial barrier to entry, being a bit of a fan of the couch, and 5K (3 miles) seemed like a lofty yet attainable goal for this reforming couch jockey.
 
As you read this, I will be huffing and puffing my way into the final weeks of the program, although after watching several weeks of the Olympics, it is clear that the activity I engage in looks more like awkward trudging than what one could legitimately call running. Despite my less than athletic appearance, I have begun to feel a difference and was growing more confident in my fitness prowess until we purchased a Wii Fit, essentially a video game connected to a balance board/scale that purports to improve your fitness. I strode to the machine with a swagger, happy with the ten pounds our bathroom scale informed me I had lost, and stepped on the balance board. The animated representation of me in the game promptly ballooned as the machine told me, in no uncertain terms: "You're Obese!" Adding insult to injury, a lengthy balance test ended in the machine asking if I "trip over my own feet" or "have difficulty walking."
 
So, if you seen an obese gentleman trudging along the side of the road, tripping over his own feet and clearly experiencing trouble, resist the urge to veer your automobile to the side of the road and put him out of his misery!