Author.
Dad.
Friend.

Munich, tennis, and the pursuit of mastery.

I grew up in Munich in 1979 with one obsession: the tennis court. There's something about that sport — the solitude of it, the way every point is a mini-crisis you solve alone — that shapes how you think about everything else. Competition. Composure. Deciding quickly under pressure.

I studied Diplom-Kaufmann and Sportökonom — business and sport science, two disciplines that look separate until you realise they're both about optimising systems with human beings at the centre.

I still compete. The court teaches me things books don't.

The writer. The translator. The daily practice.

Writing was always there. But it became a discipline when I started co-authoring The Daily Athlete with Alexandra Brudy — a book of 365 daily entries for athletes who train their minds as hard as their bodies. It was the kind of book I wished I'd had at 22.

Then came the translations. Bringing Dave Asprey's biohacking work to German-speaking readers wasn't just a language exercise — it was a responsibility. To carry the meaning. To not flatten the ideas. To give German readers the same 'aha moment' the original created.

Nine book projects so far — original works in German and English, translations that carry Dave Asprey's and Marcos Vázquez's ideas across into German, collaborations with athletes, scientists, and thinkers. Three languages. The work is never done — and I mean that as a compliment.

All my writing, including 50+ essays on Medium, lives at the intersection of Stoic philosophy, athletic performance, and the quiet art of staying sharp.

Stillness. The discipline of doing less, better.

There's a version of success that looks like constant motion — meetings, projects, outputs, visibility. I've lived parts of that. But the Stoics were clear: the examined life requires pausing. It requires sitting with what you've built and asking whether it's actually what you wanted.

That's what the waterside moments are for. Not vacation. Not escape. Just the deliberate stillness that lets clarity surface. Marcus Aurelius kept a journal. I take walks. The principle is the same.

The best decisions I've made — in business, in writing, in fatherhood — came from moments when I stopped adding and started listening.