It was a hill I was prepared to die on 

Marketing is an endurance sport 

Growing up, my nephew – who is slightly older than me – was always the fit one, the sports star. As kids, his father, my brother, would make us go out and run, and my nephew would leave his younger brother and me for dead. 

He had representative colours for athletics and went on to become a special forces soldier, having completed some of the most gruelling training in the world. 

Fast forward many years to New Zealand. I was cycling at the time – participating in various events like the Lake Taupo Cycle Challenge – and my athletic nephew (now also in New Zealand) had been cycling for a little less time than I had. 

At one point, I was taking a break from cycling and my fitness was down, when he suggested we ride the Auckland Cycling Challenge together. I protested that I wasn’t fit or ready for the event, but he promised we would ride together and get through it. 

Well, from the start, he was off like a startled rabbit, leaving me to suffer up the first hill. Fortunately, I struggle with short distances, but I get stronger the longer the race goes. 

At some point, I caught him up, and it was he who was struggling; he said he was bonking (functional depletion of glycogen brought on by exercise), and that I should go on, but I said, “No, we’re doing this together”.  

But soon afterwards, he recovered and was off again. 

Towards the end of the race, there is a long hill climb that takes you up to the finish at Dairy Flat Primary School. I caught him at the bottom of the hill, but I didn’t say a word. I sat on his wheel all the way up the hill – he didn’t look behind once because at that point, a rider is doing everything they can to hold on.  

At the top of the hill, I stood up in the pedals and said, “See you later,” and sprang away into a sprint. He tried to stay with me, but I have big calves and a bigger build, so he was never going to win a sprint with me.  

When I crossed the finish line, I quickly grabbed a cold beer and scurried to a prominent place where he could see me with my beer as he came in to the finish. When he did, I waved happily, feeling enormous, unspoken satisfaction (we didn’t talk about it afterwards, and I don’t even think he had the slightest inkling of my little ‘competition’). 

It didn’t occur to me, until recently, that this was a classic example of the tortoise and the hare. 

Marketing is a bit like that. Most businesses, when things go a bit quiet, suddenly leap into frenzied bursts of marketing that cost a lot of money and offer a poor return on investment. At which point they decide marketing doesn’t work. 

That’s because marketing is a game of the ‘tortoise and the hare’.  

Short bursts of effort feel impressive early, but the rider who keeps turning the pedals wins the race. 

Marketing works the same way: 

  • Companies launch campaigns when business slows 
  • Then stop when it’s more expensive than it is worth 
  • Then panic again when leads dry up 

Meanwhile, the businesses that publish, blog, send out EDMs and newsletters, do their social media (paid and organic), produce thought leadership commentary, and build a presence over the years gradually become the obvious choice because they are present and visible all the time. They build trust because they are consistent. 

As Ivan Misner, founder of BNI, says, “Visibility leads to credibility, credibility leads to profitability.” 

Things may be slow at the moment, but if you don’t want them to be slow this time next year, it’s time to start your race. 

P.S. I know hyphens are a sign of AI writing – but I’ve always written with hyphens (it is established editorial style) and as of now, I’m reclaiming my power. 

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