A bit late to 2025, but here we go!
So far, I’ve shared twelve essays here on this Substack. And to be honest each one felt pretty smooth, like piecing together thoughts that emerged while running, working, dreaming, reading, or listening to others.
But this one, this one has been tricky. Not because I doubt the idea—it feels solid—but because it kept growing. I’ve talked to friends, athletes, mentors, and family layering their perspectives onto mine until I felt like I was balancing too many threads at once.
Still, here it is, and I think it’s worth exploring
I think everyone has two defining traits in their life.
By “trait,” I don’t mean a random quirk or preference. I mean something deeper—an ability, skill, or passion that shapes how others see you and sticks with them long after.
One trait usually gets you noticed.
It’s the obvious one, the thing you’re known for, your competence or your profession.
It’s the skill that makes you credible, useful, someone people turn to for a specific reason.
But alone, it’s one-dimensional, predictable, even forgettable.
That’s where the second trait comes in.
It’s the layer that keeps you interesting, the unexpected twist. It adds versatility, surprise, depth. This is what makes you memorable, what draws people back to you when the first impression fades.
Together, these traits balance each other, creating a sense of wholeness. You’re skilled enough to stand out but nuanced enough to stay intriguing. And maybe you don’t consciously think in traits—I certainly didn’t at first—but once I started, it’s been hard not to keep seeing the pattern.
Think about it:
Anthony Bourdain wasn’t just a chef; he was also a storyteller who explored culture through food.
Simone Biles isn’t just a gymnast; she’s also a mental health advocate.
Zendaya masters acting and inspires a whole generation of fashion fans.
Their traits don’t just coexist; they complement each other, creating a harmony that feels authentic and undeniable. Even when traits clash—like Elon Musk’s ability to build rockets while being a revel when writing in X. —they still create a friction that’s fascinating to watch.
In our influencer-saturated world, this dynamic plays out in reverse too. Some start with personality first—humor, aesthetics, controversy—and then build credibility through skill or entrepreneurship. Others work the opposite way, layering personality onto professionalism. Regardless of the sequence, the interplay of traits is what makes someone magnetic.
Every influencer has their own beauty line or energy drink, or they will soon.
Are people's second traits increasingly a podcast or a Substack?
Yes.
Think about it like having two engines. Like a hybrid car.
One is electric—steady, efficient, and built for long-term work. The other is gasoline—high-powered, ready to kick in when you need an extra boost.
And since a big chunk of you are runners lets take these engines to the way we develop ourselves as marathoners:
Your slow-twitch muscle fibers are the electric engine, running smoothly through endurance work, assuming the battery is charged.
Your fast-twitch fibers are the gasoline engine, the one you call on when you need raw speed or a surge of power.
When you’re cruising along, you rely mostly on that electric engine. But when you hit a steep incline—when the stakes are high and you need to push—it’s both engines working together that get you up the hill at full speed.
Now, here’s where it gets interesting.
The electric engine only charges when you’re cruising around town, when you’re doing the B-Range-easy, consistent, day-to-day work that keeps the system running. If you neglect that, if you only push hard without refueling, you’ll find yourself on the highway with nothing but the gas engine, running on empty far sooner than necessary. You’ll still get up the hill, but not as powerfully, and you’ll burn out faster.
The same logic applies to traits.
If you over-rely on one and never cultivate the second, you’re missing out on the synergy that makes people—and performances—truly great
The best runners have both speed and endurance.
The best thinkers have both logic and creativity.
The best artists have both technique and originality.
The best leaders have both competence and charisma.
And of course, there’s a temptation to go further.
Why stop at two traits?
Why not three?
It sounds compelling, but most of us—even the greats—are remembered for just two.
Leonardo da Vinci might have been an exception, but for everyone else, there’s only so much room for highlights.
But then there is still one universal, often invisible layer that can act as a quiet third trait:
Family.
Family adds something deeply human to the equation. It doesn’t compete with the other traits; it complements them. Call it grounding or a bonus dimension, but it’s undeniable.
Mark Zuckerberg has Meta and martial arts, but he’s also increasingly known as a family man.
Elon Musk brings Lil X to events.
Even politicians try to wield the trifecta of smart, strong, and loving, though with varying degrees of success. (They have been attempting this playbook for ages.)
Family humanizes us, softens even the sharpest edges. But it can’t stand alone. Love isn’t enough to define you; it enhances the other layers, the other traits.
The real danger is being reduced to just one trait.
Founders risk being consumed by their startups.
Celebrities can be swallowed whole by their loudest source of fame.
Taylor Swift is her music, though the world often tries to append her relationship sagas as a second layer.
Kim Kardashian, on the other hand, started with reality TV but broadened her persona with business ventures and family.
Whatever you think of her, she found a way to expand her traits and make them visible.
Visibility matters.
If your traits aren’t clear, they might as well not exist. And if you don’t define them for yourself, someone else will.
In a world where attention is currency, your traits are both your flags and your anchors.
And here is where I struggle a little because all this might sound calculated, like engineering a persona….
But the best traits don’t feel manufactured; they feel authentic.
They work together effortlessly, making you dynamic, not flat.
Then again this isn’t new; I’m just giving a name to what we’ve always known instinctively.
The first trait may get you in the door, but it’s the second that keeps people from forgetting you.
It’s the difference between being noticed and being remembered, between being a specialist and being a full, complex character.
For runners (and I know many of you are runners), think about it this way: speed and endurance. You need both.
And most importantly, don’t be afraid to just B - Range cruise when running, flow…
Two traits don’t just define you—they elevate you.
And in a world where so many things feel one-dimensional, they make you that much more human, that much more alive.
Thank you for reading.
Luis.