Shadrack Wanjohi

I listen to a mix of everything: Don Williams, Rhumba, Sauti Sol, UB40, or Mugithi. My Spotify playlist is made up of songs that I can listen to over and over again.

I had range as a kid. One week I wanted to be a catholic priest, the next a pilot, sometimes both. Joining the Air Force and becoming a cardiologist made guest appearances, too. Commitment clearly wasn’t my strong suit yet.

I’m happiest when I’m with my family, discovering new music, and looking for new dad jokes. When I’m not doing that, you’ll probably find me taking long walks to rest and recharge.

I’m a good salsa dancer. But my real edge is intuition. It’s what keeps me calm when things get chaotic.

It is not the critic who counts, not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. 

The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows, in the end, the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.