People often ask me: “So… how do you become a futurist?”

The short answer: you don’t.

You just keep saying yes to the next uncomfortable step until one day someone gives you the label, and it finally fits.

For me, it started in 2011 with a very unlikely idea: cycling around Australia in 100 days.

Together with my friend Reinier van Dieren, we circumnavigated the continent to raise money for the Dutch Children’s Cancer Foundation KiKa. Before that, I was working at ING, living a very standard corporate life.

After 100 days on the bike, returning to an office felt impossible. Once you’ve cycled a continent, your definition of “risk” changes. So I did what many do after a big adventure: I tried to start a company.

And I failed. Repeatedly.

Turns out, building a business is a lot harder than getting on a bike and riding 14,000+ km.

So I went back into a job.

But the itch didn’t go away.

Six months later I tried again.

About 14 years ago, I launched a platform called Big Data Startups because I had a hunch: big data analytics would shape the future. I wasn’t an expert. I was just obsessed.

So I started writing. Every day. Sometimes twice a day.

After 1.5 months of this, I got invited to speak about big data at a regional event, organized by the Kennisalliantie. I still have that reference from my very first keynote on my website here!

I remember thinking: “In the land of the blind, the one-eyed man is king.”

I was only a few months into the world of big data, but because I showed up consistently, people listened. That first keynote led to more talks in the Netherlands.

After four months of constant writing, I became curious: How much have I actually written?

The answer: almost a book.

So I wrote a book proposal in two hours (this was pre-AI), sent it out, and 30 days later I had a signed contract with American Management Association, now part of Taylor & Francis.

That was a turning point. From that moment, I stopped treating this as a “side thing.”

In 2015, another unexpected door opened: a PhD opportunity in Sydney, Australia, with two scholarships. I grabbed it with both hands.

The PhD was intense and incredibly rewarding, a deep dive into a topic I cared about. At the same time, I kept doing keynotes around the world. Honestly, I wrote large parts of my PhD on airplanes.

Somewhere along this journey, after yet another talk on the future of technology, someone said to me:

“You know, I think you’re a futurist.”

I paused and thought: That actually sounds right.

So I took it. I didn’t become a futurist by design; I grew into it by following curiosity, stacking small bets, and refusing to stop.

What I’ve learned over nearly 15 years, from cycling around a continent to being called the Architect of Tomorrow, is this:

Building a business is harder than an extreme physical challenge.There are more failures than highlight reels.But the privilege of helping individuals, organisations and governments make sense of a fast-changing world? That makes every setback worth it.

Today, with Futurwise, I’m doubling down on that mission:

to help people read less, know more, and make wiser decisions in an age of AI overload.

I get to do this as a futurist, 6x author, keynote speaker and now AI founder. And I’m still figuring it out as I go.

If there’s a lesson in my story, it’s this:

You don’t wait for permission to become something.

You start where you are, follow the signal that won’t shut up, and let the future meet you halfway.