I’ve come to believe that founding something can be one of the best things you can do for yourself during your working life.
Not because you’ll necessarily build a billion-dollar company. Not because you’ll raise venture capital, have a big exit, or even succeed in the conventional sense. But because the experience of taking an idea and trying to turn it into something real changes you. It forces you to learn, adapt, take ownership, and discover capabilities you might never have needed to develop otherwise.
And yet, I meet a lot of smart, capable people with genuinely good ideas who never try.
One reason, I think, is that we founders have become very good at telling everyone how hard it is.
When I was founding—or had just started—DataIAm, I made a point of meeting other founders. I met many, and I learned a tremendous amount from them. They were generous with their time and advice, and I’m grateful for it. But many also wanted to prepare me for just how hard the journey was going to be.
Some told me they had reached points where they literally cried. Others talked about moments when they regretted becoming founders, or how much they had sacrificed—the time, the stress, the financial uncertainty, the impact on the rest of their lives.
These weren’t people trying to discourage me. Quite the opposite. They were sharing hard-earned lessons and preparing me for what might come.
But as I went further into my own journey, I kept waiting to feel some version of what they had described.
I didn’t.
That doesn’t mean building DataIAm has been easy. Far from it. There have been setbacks, uncertainty, long hours, things that didn’t work, things that took much longer than expected, and plenty of moments when I’ve had to rethink the plan.
But regret? No.
And I’ve been thinking about why.
The closest analogy I can find is something else I spend time doing: working out.
Nobody goes to the gym because it’s easy
A good workout is hard. You make time for it when you’d rather be doing something else. You control your diet. You push your body beyond what’s comfortable. Sometimes you add weight when the current weight is already difficult. Sometimes an exercise that worked well for months stops producing results, so you have to find another way to challenge yourself.
You experiment. Change the weight. Change the repetitions. Change the exercise. Learn a new technique. You adapt.
Building a startup feels remarkably similar.
Something that worked with beta customers may not work with others. The product you were convinced people needed may not be quite what the market wants. You run short on resources. A competitor changes the landscape. A new technology suddenly makes possible something that wasn’t possible six months ago.
So you adjust. You learn, build, throw things away, rebuild, and find another way.
Of course that’s hard.
But here’s the thing about a workout: the effort starts paying you back almost immediately.
The return doesn’t begin when you reach the goal
When I go for a run, I don’t have to wait until I’m faster to get something from it. When I go to the gym, I don’t have to wait until I’ve gained muscle to decide whether today’s workout was worthwhile.
The visible results come much later, but the mental reward is immediate: the satisfaction of pushing yourself, the feeling when you finish something difficult, the small realization that you did something today that you couldn’t—or wouldn’t—have done before.
Nobody else may see any of it. But you experience it. The payback is already there.
And I think that’s why I’ve never related to the idea of regretting the effort of building a startup.
The startup is paying me back while I’m building it.
Most startup returns are invisible
From the outside, we tend to measure startup success through visible outcomes: revenue, funding, headcount, valuation, acquisition, IPO. Those are the long-term, visible gains.
But founders experience hundreds of smaller, mostly invisible returns along the way: the first time someone you don’t know uses something you created; the first customer who gives an unsolicited shoutout; the first time an idea that existed only in your head becomes a real product on a screen.
It’s the problem everyone thought would be difficult that your team finally solves. The moment you realize your original idea was wrong—and that you’ve figured out a better one. Watching someone on your team grow beyond what either of you expected. Learning a technology, an industry, a sales motion, or a part of business you knew almost nothing about a year earlier.
And sometimes it’s simply figuring out how to get around the latest obstacle.
Most of these moments won’t make a headline. They probably won’t make your LinkedIn feed either. But you know.
That’s the part of entrepreneurship I don’t think we talk about enough.
An exit isn’t the only reward
We have a tendency to tell startup stories backward. Once a company becomes worth billions or gets acquired, we look back at all the struggles and sacrifices and say, It was worth it.
But what if there isn’t a billion-dollar outcome? What if there isn’t even an exit? Was all that effort somehow wasted?
I don’t think so.
That would be like saying years spent exercising were worthwhile only if you eventually won a bodybuilding competition. The workout was doing something for you every single day.
So is building something.
You learn how to operate with incomplete information. You learn to sell, build, and persuade people to believe in something that doesn’t fully exist yet. You learn to make decisions when nobody can tell you the right answer, and to recover when something you were certain about turns out to be wrong.
Perhaps most importantly, you discover what you’re capable of when there isn’t a large organization around you providing the structure.
Those are returns too.
Build something once
This is why I’ve come to believe that, for many people, founding something at least once can be one of the most valuable experiences of a career.
It doesn’t have to be the classic Silicon Valley venture-backed startup. Build a lifestyle business. Start a consulting practice. Create a nonprofit or a philanthropic project. Build a small product around something you understand unusually well.
Take an idea you care about and try to turn it into something real that didn’t exist before. Find your version of it.
Will it require sacrifice? Almost certainly. Will there be moments when you have to push beyond what feels comfortable, change direction, learn something new, or find another way when the obvious approach stops working? Absolutely.
That’s also what happens when you train seriously.
But we don’t tell people not to exercise because exercise is hard. We tell them what it can do for them.
Maybe we should talk about entrepreneurship the same way.
When founders tell you how hard it is, listen to them. They’re probably telling the truth. I certainly don’t want to minimize what any founder has experienced—or the very real sacrifices some have had to make.
But don’t stop listening at the word hard. And if you have an idea you genuinely believe is worth trying, don’t let someone else’s horror story become the reason you never find out what you could have built.
Because the reward doesn’t begin when you raise money, reach profitability, or get an exit.
Just like a good run or a hard workout, the effort can be part of the reward.
The payback can start today.
And once you see it that way, the question becomes:
What’s to regret?
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To learn about my startup, visit: https://dataiam.com
