The 5 am club

The Day Stacking Foundation.
And it’s one of 
The 4 Focuses of History-Makers
that you explained to us. I
still remember that model.”
“Absolutely correct,” applauded the billionaire. “And I need to say that
beginning your day intelligently, healthily and peacefully isn’t only about
optimizing your public and private success. It’s also about protecting it.”
Suddenly, a man driving a horse carriage and dressed as a gladiator rolled
through the square known as Piazza di Spagna and shouted, “Buongiorno Mr.
Riley,” and then continued on his way.
“A dopo,” replied the billionaire loud enough for the man to hear. “Gnarly
costume, right?” he said to his students.
The billionaire rubbed his fake tattoo and looked toward the Colosseum.
“That man we just saw makes me think of the Auriga, a type of slave in
ancient Rome, who would transport important Roman leaders and was chosen
for his trustworthiness. Here’s the neat thing: another key job of the Auriga
was to stand behind the military general known as the ‘Dux’ and whisper the
words ‘Memento, homo’ carefully into his ear as he placed the laurel crown

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on his head.”
“What does that mean?” asked the entrepreneur. Today she’d dressed in
faded jeans, a bright red t-shirt with a V-neck and white running shoes. Her
hair was styled in the ponytail that she liked. She had her bracelets on. And
she absolutely radiated optimism.
“‘Memento homo’ is Latin for ‘remember you are only a man,’” the
billionaire answered. “The Auriga did this to keep the leader’s arrogance in
check and to help the leader manage the inevitable invitation to egotism that
all great success inescapably brings. The ritual was a profound discipline to
ensure the Dux remained monomaniacally focused on his true mission of
making himself, and the empire he ruled, even better—and not diluting all his
energies on the amusements and excess that cause dynasties to fall.”
“You know what?” indicated the artist. “I’ve seen some artistic geniuses
blow up their creative empires and destroy their good reputations because
they didn’t manage their success properly. So, I hear you.”
“Def,” said the entrepreneur. “I mean, definitely,” she quickly corrected as
she clasped the hand of her new boyfriend. “I’ve seen so many rocketship
companies lose their market share because they fell in love with their winning
formula. They lost their fire. They got bloated and cocky. They bought into
the faulty belief that because there were long lineups for their excellent
products, there would always be long lineups—even without iterating their
goods, improving customer service and ensuring that every single employee
continued to raise their leadership performance. So, I hear you, too, Mr.
Riley.”
“Awesome,” was his one-word reply.
“As you apply 
The 20/20/20 Formula
, always remember to keep
improving the way you run it each morning. Stay hungry. Keep a white-belt
mentality around it. Because 
nothing fails like success
. Once you experience
how transformational the practice is, it’ll be easy to start coasting—and
maybe even neglecting—a few steps of the process.”
The billionaire touched an index finger down to one of the steps. He
closed his eyes and quietly recited these words: “It’s time to stop being a
fugitive from your highest self and accept membership into a new order of
ability, bravery and understanding of the call on your lives to inspire
humanity.”
He then walked across the stone platform atop the Spanish Steps and
raised two fingers of his right hand to show the universal sign for peace. Next,
he waved an arm in the direction of a man on a seat heating up chestnuts in

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Piazza di Spagna, near the foot of Via dei Condotti. The man wore a gray shirt
that had wrinkles over the chest area, navy blue trousers and yellow running
shoes.
On seeing the sign, the man immediately stood up and darted through the
square, up the steps—three at a time—all the way to the peak, where the
billionaire was stationed. He lifted his rumpled shirt, revealing a bulletproof
vest—and pulled out a laminated sheet of paper from beneath it.
“Here you go, Grande. Good to see you back in Roma, Boss.” The man
spoke with a rich Italian accent and a voice as gritty as sandpaper.
“Grazie mille! Molto gentile, Adriano,” the billionaire said as he kissed
the palm of a hand before extending it for a handshake.
“Adriano’s on my security team,” noted Mr. Riley while studying the page
that had been presented to him. “He’s one of my best. He grew up in the town
of Alba in the Piemonte region of this exceptional nation. You cats like
tartufo?”
“What’s that?” queried the artist, looking a little confused by the scenario
that had just played out.
“Truffles, baby!” enthused the billionaire. “My goodness, they taste
incredible. On tagliolini pasta with melted butter drizzled over it. Or when
grated over jiggly fried eggs. My, oh my, food of the emperors it is!” The
billionaire’s eyes were as wide as a prairie while he imagined the meal he was
describing. A razor thin line of drool meandered out of the right corner of his
mouth. Yes, a line of drool. Beyond weird, right?
Adriano, who had remained in position, discreetly handed his employer a
handkerchief. He looked at the entrepreneur and the artist with a glance that
seemed to say, “I know he’s strange, but we love him, too.”
And then all four people perched upon that overwhelmingly alluring site
started to laugh. Together.
“Have a great morning, Boss,” Adriano said as he prepared to leave. “I’ll
meet you in Testaccio this evening. Thank you so much for inviting me to eat
with you tonight. Are we eating cacio e pepe, as usual?”
“Si,” confirmed the billionaire. “A presto.”
“Alba is where white truffles come from,” explained the billionaire.
“Specially trained dogs sniff them out. Or pigs. Maybe in the future, I’ll take
you guys on a truffle hunt with me. I promise you it’ll be unforgettable.
Anyhoo, have a look at this fantastic learning model. The Spellbinder actually
deconstructed The Victory Hour and