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When I was 21, I used to get around in an illegally low jet black ‘67 Falcon. It ran 10 inch rims on the back, had a chrome scoop sticking out the hole in the bonnet and gear drive which combined with a straight through exhaust made it sound like the test lab at Boeing. Neither my parents, my neighbours or the cops were impressed.

Me and my mates thought it was the bomb.

I used to spend as much money on tyres as I earned, I was a regular at the Calder Park street drags, at the Sandown Park V8 touring car races and the NASCAR events at the Thunderdome. My Dad would probably tell you no good came of this misspent youth. I beg to differ.

At the time I thought it was both big AND clever to go as fast as I could whenever and wherever I could. To me a red light was just another invitation to drop a burnout soon as it went green again, in fact I have a nasty feeling there’s a hole in the ozone layer that can be directly attributed to me and that car.

But one day my mechanic set me straight. He ran his own sprint car team, just country speedway sort of stuff, but a race team all the same – so I listened to him.

Anyway after one of my somewhat regular visits to fix something I’d broken he told me about the 90% for 90% rule.

It applied to his team then, and it applies to all of us now.

The 90% for 90% is as obvious as it sounds, you go fast, you stay on top of your game, close to the leaders, but you don’t give it 100% until you can see the finish, you keep that 10% in reserve until you really need it.

Whether you’re pushing yourself, or whether you’re pushing your people, expecting to get 100% for an extended length of time isn’t thinking long term. Run anything at 100% from the get go and it will fail before you’re halfway done. Trust me on this.

So if you’re on the ragged edge right now, ease back, focus on what’s important, get it done and get it done well, but hold that bit back for the final lap, because when you need it you’ll be glad you did.

Like I said, obvious really, but sometimes we just need a reminder.

d

P.S. Fletch, tell your parents I’m sorry it was me doing donuts in your court that night.

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Tags: car, dave scott, falcon, opinion