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“In a world full of distractions, I’m choosing to learn in public. I delve deeply into the resources that spark my curiosity, pick out the pieces that resonate, and reassemble them into a clearer picture. One that helps uncover better ways of working, for myself and for anyone facing the same puzzles.” ~ Miranda Dulin
Within my first month on the job, I knew I’d made a mistake.
Our company had just announced that every technology team must adopt Scrum. I know, that sentence alone raises plenty of red flags. I can practically see the soapboxes being dragged out. But before you step up to explain why it shouldn’t happen this way, remember: reality doesn’t run on ‘should.’ And, of course, it gets worse.
I’ve been here before. Different company, same story. Back then, I was the one setting up the soapbox. But mine didn’t come pre-fab. It came with citations, footnotes, and the occasional graph. I built arguments like Ikea furniture: piece by piece, following the manual. Which tells you plenty about me already. What I delivered wasn’t a rant. It was an essay disguised as a protest.
And it worked. At my last job, I fought for the team to choose its own Sprint start day. I laid out the pros, the cons, the what-ifs, the maybes. Together, we picked the day that made sense. Easy win. So all I had to do now was dust off that old email, swap out the company name, and call it a day. But the email wasn’t mine anymore. It belonged to my previous employer, sealed away in their servers. What once solved the problem was now locked away, out of reach. My best work, gone.
It happens more than I like to admit. Whole books I’ve read, courses I’ve taken, and notes I’ve scribbled all carried answers I could use today. Now they’re gone.
That’s what led me to craft Agile Ambition, though it wasn’t always what it is now. It began as a blog on project management — a place to line up lessons, explain frameworks, share techniques, and offer one more take on Scrum. But it felt tired. The world didn’t need another lecture, and I didn’t want to sound like the preacher at the front of the room.
So it shifted. Agile Ambition became less about Agile itself and more about making my own ambition agile. A practice of chasing what sparks my curiosity, and then capturing it piece by piece until it forms a body of knowledge that can last. Not a lecture hall, but a living archive.
You’ll still find plenty here about Agile, Scrum, and the rest — it’s one of the anchors I return to. But don’t be surprised if other ideas start to surface as well, as I give myself permission to chase curiosity.
These days I see Agile Ambition as a puzzle vault. Past me tucks away the answers. Future me digs them out. And sometimes, others borrow a piece too. That kind of curation mirrors my work as a Technical Product Owner — gathering options, protecting value, and making sure nothing useful slips through the cracks.
And I now know how costly it can be when the pieces aren’t saved. That first round of research on Sprint start days vanished, locked away where I couldn’t reach it. When the problem resurfaced, I started over and then published it on my site. I thought I was writing it for myself, a record for future me. But it turned out other people were looking for the same answer.
For a time, my blog ranked high on Google for ‘best day to start a Sprint.’ Then a friend from an old job wrote to say she’d found it while searching for a solution. That’s when I realized: it wasn’t just a memory aid for me. It was a puzzle piece for someone else. And if one of my notes sparks something for you, I’d love to hear about it. That’s the whole point of Agile Ambition: not just saving what I’ve learned, but making sure the pieces keep moving forward — from past me, to future me, to anyone who needs them.