Sunday Glow: At 35, My Startup Crashed. At 50, I’m Still Swinging.

The grind isn’t about the knockout—it’s about the fight, the team, and building something that lasts.

In my 20ies, I was fearless. Working at Switzerland’s largest Startup incubator, I was surrounded by founders raising millions, scaling fast, and cashing out. I thought, “That’ll be me next.” Financially, I didn’t care. I was fueled by ambition, naivety, and an unshakable belief in my first big idea.

Here’s the thing: naivety is a strength. At 25, you don’t see the walls; you see the cracks. You believe the right idea can change everything. You think you’re one lucky punch away from greatness. So I swung. I started my first company.

By my early 30s, the punches started landing - in my face. Hard. My own startup? The “perfect” product I built? No one cared. The feature everyone swore they needed? It gathered dust. And the customers who promised me the world? They disappeared when it was time to pay. I learned quickly: people don’t buy perfect products—they buy solutions to their own problems. If it doesn’t change their lives, it doesn’t matter.

Mid-30s, I had clawed my way back. I was days away from selling the company. The deal was everything—retire early, become a millionaire, all the stories you read about. Then it fell apart. Everything I’d built vanished in seconds. Boom. Game over. Just like that.

I had bet it all on one knockout punch, and it missed.

That’s when I learned the truth: there is no lucky punch. Success isn’t one big moment. It’s the thousand jabs—the slow grind of building something people actually want. The endless conversations where you shut up and listen. The pivots when your genius idea flops. The courage to stay in the ring when everyone else walks away.

Naivety got me into the ring, but resilience kept me there. After the collapse, I joined Google, where I learned how to show up daily, grind and scale. Then Lime, where I helped build something disruptive and global at rocket speed. But it wasn’t until my 40s that I saw the truth clearly: success isn’t about the product.

It’s about understanding people and yourself.

Mike Tyson understands this. At 58, he stepped back into the ring against someone 30 years younger. On paper, he lost. But Tyson made $20 million while reminding the world—and himself—where he belongs. He didn’t fight for a title; he fought because it’s what he was built to do. Tyson didn’t need the scorecards to prove his worth. By stepping into the ring, he reminded us all that greatness isn’t a title; it’s a way of life.

At 20, I thought I knew it all.
At 30, I realized how little I knew.
At 40, I learned resilience.
At 50, I’m still swinging—not for the big win, but for the fight itself.

Because what I’ve found in the ring is what Tyson found when he returned: passion.

The thrill of showing up, swinging, and being in the fight. Today, my daily jabs are with Alpian, reshaping the financial world. It’s not just about landing punches myself—it’s about having a team I deeply care for in the ring with me, helping them dodge the blows, find their rhythm, and deliver the punches that count. Every move we make is aimed at something bigger than us: disrupting an industry, building solutions that change people’s lives, and creating a lasting impact.

No, I’m not the multimillionaire startup success story I thought I’d be at 30. But it took a few more rounds in the ring to understand something far more valuable: there’s no lucky punch. Success isn’t the knockout you dream of—it’s the fight you show up for every single day. And I couldn’t be happier to be in it.

So, to the next generation: stop chasing the lucky punch. Build something small—and build it brilliantly. Solve one problem so well it changes someone’s life. Forget the applause; focus on the work. And most of all, stay in the ring. Jab, miss, jab again.

The fight doesn’t end with the perfect punch—it begins when you commit to throwing another. And that’s where you find what you’ve been fighting for all along.

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And as usual, there’s a song that punches straight to the soul—raw, honest, and unrelenting. “No Lucky Punch” is more than a song; it’s a manifesto for anyone chasing greatness. It captures the fight, the grind, and the relentless pursuit of something that truly matters. Because that’s what the journey is all about: showing up, round after round, and finding meaning not in the knockout, but in the fight itself.

No Lucky Punch

(Intro)
At 20, you’re a storm, a blaze, a spark,
Dreaming of crowns, but you don’t see the dark.
You think one hit’s enough to conquer the game,
But life’s lessons are carved in struggle and pain.

(Hook)
No lucky punch, no random break,
Success is the shadow of sweat, blood, and stakes.
It’s the hits that connect when no one can see,
Because greatness is born where doubt used to be.

(Verse 1)
A lucky punch? A tale for the weak,
For those who dream big but never bleed.
Success isn’t sudden, it’s coal in the night,
Burning and glowing, far from the light.

Everyone’s running, but few learn to fall,
You want the crown? Then answer the call!
The truth bites hard, it stings like a thorn,
It’s in the shadows you grind, where legends are born.

(Hook)
No lucky punch, no random break,
Success is the shadow of sweat, blood, and stakes.
It’s the hits that connect when no one can see,
Because greatness is born where doubt used to be.

(Verse 2)
By 30, you learn: visions are lies,
If the world doesn’t care, your idea will die.
The market’s no friend, it shows no grace,
Only those who endure will win the race.

Your product was perfect, but no one cared,
You hoped—but hope is a drug that leaves you impaired.
What matters is sweat, the love of the grind,
Only those who reshape will stand the test of time.

(Bridge)
A punch that changes it all? A dream for fools,
Success grows like roots in the coldest of soils.
Every jab, every step, shapes the stone,
Until it shines like steel you’ve hammered alone.

(Hook)
No lucky punch, no random break,
Success is the shadow of sweat, blood, and stakes.
It’s the hits that connect when no one can see,
Because greatness is born where doubt used to be.

(Outro)
At 50, you look back, full of pride and rage,
The scars are your map, burned into the page.
Now you know: no single hit made you rise,
It was falling and standing that sharpened your mind.
So move, strike back, let your rhythm ignite,
No lucky punch defines you—only your eternal fight.

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