La Bicicleta Financiera

In over 200 personal finance workshops led across Latin America — from multinational companies to institutions promoting family finance — I've encountered thousands of people without a clear financial direction. Whether they have capital or not, most have no idea how to properly manage their resources. Fear sets in across the room when I ask a simple question.

"Who here knows exactly how much they'll receive when they retire?" Only those already retired, who know the value of their monthly pension check, raise their hands.

At the start of my workshops there is usually an atmosphere of unease. Participants expect the speaker to show up with a magic formula or financial product that will solve all their problems — something like a lottery ticket or a casino win. Others approach more cautiously, believing they don't need much help, perhaps because they've already accumulated some capital — but deep down, unsure whether it will be enough.

Regardless of how much capital one has, everyone must face what I consider the thirteen most relevant money problems.

Years ago, stock markets showed steady long-term growth and careers were more stable. Couples divided roles, core family assets barely fluctuated in value, and access to information was exclusive — available only to those who could travel or study abroad. Personal finance planning was virtually nonexistent, mainly because the world felt predictable. Today, everything has changed — except for one thing: the financial passivity of the vast majority of the global population. This is the core symptom of what I call financial glaucoma: living in an economic reality that's completely disconnected from actual reality.

There's a story — perhaps mythical — that during the great Asian tsunami, thousands of animals survived because they sensed the danger early and fled toward higher ground. Some researchers say there's no scientific proof of this, but for the purpose of this academic effort, the myth holds value. So why haven't humans been able to sense the looming danger of putting money at the center of their lives, or worse, trying to manage it without any financial education? It's like driving a car with no training. The results can be catastrophic.

In ophthalmology, glaucoma is a disease that, at first, causes no pain or noticeable symptoms — only a precise instrument measuring intraocular pressure can diagnose it, as it gradually damages the optic nerve and steals portions of vision until the eye loses all function. Often a person loses a large percentage of their vision without realizing it, because the other eye compensates. In other words, the brain itself hides the problem — the same mechanism that helps you regain balance when you're about to fall. Many people find it hard to visualize, in detail, how and where they will live, with whom, what their income will look like, what assets they will own — and because they don't think ahead, they are effectively diagnosed with financial glaucoma. The brain protects us with reassuring thoughts: "Everything will work out." "You work hard, you'll be fine." "Enjoy today; tomorrow will sort itself out." These are valid mental antidotes to financial anxiety — as long as they don't turn into lies.

While working as an advisor, I often met people who had just been laid off, clutching their severance checks. I remember Óscar, a 65-year-old who had worked thirty years at a multinational company. He came in with his wife, his children, and his own financial advisor, carrying a large severance check. His planned pension would only last 10 years — but he needed it to last 25. He also wanted to gift each of his children an apartment. Throughout the meeting, Óscar was unwilling to disclose his real monthly expenses; he just wanted a fixed income for 25 years to "cover everything." I asked if their health insurance was included in the budget he was reluctant to share — and that's when his wife pulled a folder from her bag and, trembling, revealed she had cancer, and Óscar had been diagnosed with advanced heart disease two months earlier.

Among their largest recurring expenses were country club dues, a vacation home, and a beachfront apartment for Óscar's mother-in-law. We explained that the only sustainable path was to cut expenses drastically, renegotiate his health insurance, and cancel the apartment gifts. Óscar, furious, suggested investing half his severance in booming Colombian stocks instead. I warned him: "That's no different from a night at the casino — and it's not suitable for your risk profile, or your health." They left angry. Even my own team was upset — we had just watched a massive commission walk out the door.

A few weeks later, Óscar called me directly — distressed. He'd lost 30% of his capital in Colombian stocks. We met over lunch and built a revised plan: restructured expenses, no apartment gifts, and Óscar working again, not just for income, but for a sense of purpose. Years later, Óscar had referred many new clients to me and become one of the most valuable clients I've ever had. We remain good friends to this day. Óscar had lived with financial glaucoma for over thirty years — a dangerous, unconscious defense mechanism of the mind, its way of reducing or avoiding financial anxiety.

A cement transport company once hired me to help their truck drivers improve their family finances. The session began with a lot of curiosity — and jokes — among the 40 drivers about what I could possibly teach them, given their salaries. We defined two objectives: how to build a budget, and how to earn more income. Many discovered, for the first time, where their money was actually going. For the second goal, we brainstormed: what kind of business can be started with little money? A year and a half later, the company invited me back. One driver had converted his garage into a store selling sewing supplies, run by his wife, after they sold two cows to start it. Another had built an avocado distribution business after meeting a farmer whose fruit was rotting unsold — he now had a permanent stand at the local market.

In a way, we all need to be entrepreneurs. Relying on a single salary blinds us to how powerful our market potential could be. What's missing is getting the brain into entrepreneurship mode 24/7 — taking calculated risks, adding dedication. Lacking an entrepreneurial mindset might be another symptom of financial glaucoma, especially for those with a more aggressive investor profile.

Financial ego is one of the most difficult challenges any advisor faces, entering a dance of seduction and conflict with the client's own ego. I once accompanied a colleague to visit a wealthy man from an entrepreneurial family who had just won a legal case and sold a large piece of land — he now held an enormous check, undecided between buying cattle, buying 35 livestock trucks, or investing with us. He was clear: if our offer didn't beat the others in profitability, he wouldn't invest with us at all. I shifted the conversation to risk — his entire fortune was concentrated in cattle farming, in one region. As expected, I walked out empty-handed. Months later, my colleague told me the deal had gone through after all: the client's mother, who remembered nearly losing everything in a flood decades earlier, convinced the board to diversify into an investment portfolio as a cushion.

You're unlikely to hear public stories about investors who lost everything chasing high returns. That siren's song — profitability — seduces and lures, but it is the investor's worst enemy. Even if you're a seasoned investor, the Bicycle Model offers a solid foundation to pursue returns without taking on unnecessary risk. Profitability is an important part of any financial plan — but it is not the goal.

As a leadership professor, I once asked my MBA students to define themselves on paper, without referencing their jobs. Ninety-nine percent found it nearly impossible — total work alienation. One student's answer nearly broke my heart: he wrote that his true calling was to become a priest, but financial reasons kept him from leaving his job, and he prayed God would give him the strength to pursue his vocation in his spare time. Defining ourselves by what we do can lead to the false belief that when we stop working, we lose our identity — and turns the transition to retirement into something dramatic.

I had a client — a lawyer at a major company — constantly stressed about his finances. He invited me trout fishing one day and revealed it was his true passion; during the trip his whole personality changed, from demanding and harsh to genuinely warm. He dreamed of moving to southern Patagonia to start a fishing and tourism business, and needed $250,000 to make it happen. Years later, I received a photo of him on his boat in the southern lakes with Asian clients fishing for Chilean trout. He had finally made his dream come true — earning more than he ever did as a corporate lawyer. It's clear that work alienation, when the job isn't one's true calling, stifles creativity and limits human development.

A client who managed her widowed mother's finances complained her returns weren't enough. At every meeting she pulled out a meticulously organized folder of every receipt — her mother's in blue, her own in green. One day, when the multinational brewery SABMiller acquired Bavaria and announced it would buy shares from thousands of small shareholders, the woman called me in a panic: her late father had hidden bearer shares somewhere in the apartment, and no one could remember where. We searched, found a bundle of certificates that had sat in the building's basement for years — and once counted against SABMiller's buyout price, the widow held the equivalent of $1.8 million.

In personal finance, it's not about tracking every expense to the penny. What matters is liquidity, multiple income streams, and having fallback resources. You should know your spending as much as possible, but not to the point that managing it becomes torture. If you focus only on meticulous order without creating productive assets, that too is a symptom of financial glaucoma.

Once I gave a talk at a multinational company during a period of high market volatility — my job was to "calm the mood." A woman raised her hand to say our returns were too low, since her son — a stockbroker — told her we were "stealing" her money by comparing us to Forex, which yielded 35% a year. I explained Forex is a zero-sum speculation platform: when one person wins, another loses. A few months later, that Forex firm was shut down by regulators for illegally taking deposits, and hundreds of employees quietly redeposited their remaining savings into our portfolios. The same pattern shows up in every Ponzi scheme scandal, from DMG in Colombia to Bernie Madoff in the United States.

If you don't have a financial plan, the stress of managing capital will multiply, and your investment decisions will become riskier. Without the bicycle model, you're like a weather vane without direction. That's why many choose to bury their heads in the sand — to enjoy the false peace of financial glaucoma, a momentary escape from the anxiety of managing wealth.

Juan, 40, graduated twenty years ago. He bought a house in a gated community, drives a financed BMW, and his wife drives a financed SUV. They eat out every weekend, and Juan plays golf weekly. Yet when he looks in the mirror, he feels a knot in his stomach — they haven't started saving for their children's education. They use credit cards for nearly everything, carrying over $20,000 in debt, and sometimes even pay property taxes with a credit card. Juan has $18,000 in savings, which comforts him, though he has no idea how many months it would actually cover. He has no life insurance, high cholesterol, and doesn't exercise.

I met Juan at a workshop in Medellín. He was skeptical, challenging me on the returns I was "selling" — until he understood I was a financial coach, not a salesman. When he and his wife, Lucía, joined a coaching session and shared their spreadsheet, their financial dashboard was entirely red. Their fixed costs were 90% of their expenses. They would need to move to a cheaper neighborhood, sell a car, and have Lucía go back to work. The plan looked promising — but after those sessions, Juan never responded to my calls again. This happened with more than 30% of my clients in similar situations. Why do so many smart people resist solving basic financial problems?

The Financial M&M is the most critical state of financial glaucoma — it creates a disconnection between the brain and economic behavior. A perfect example is how Juan and Lucía deny having any financial problem at all.

An explicit need is one we rationally know we require. Implicit Enslaving Needs — NIE — arise in the mind without the capacity to perceive them, hiding in work, relationships, and family roles; they are "enslaving" because if not recognized, they have deeply damaging long-term effects on our economic future. In Ibagué, a client asked me to give a talk to his family before showing them his household spreadsheet, almost entirely red because they lived off bank overdrafts. His wife, furious that he'd shown their finances to a stranger, walked out with the children. That was the fastest and most profitable piece of advice I've ever given — because a person like that cannot expect to change an entire family's economic culture like changing socks. A cultural change strategy has to be built first.

Since childhood we learn to manipulate others around money — from how to get an ice cream, to convincing our parents to buy us a toy. As adults, some use financial power, or the lack of it, as a tool for dominance or submission in relationships. One client, married with children, insisted no communication ever go to her family apartment; she and her husband managed their finances completely separately. By chance, I later met her husband socially, who hinted he knew I managed "the pennies" for his wife — a woman who easily had over two million dollars. If you let yourself be psychologically manipulated around money, or do it to another, you deepen financial glaucoma and approach the moral limits of any human relationship.

A great Venezuelan friend from university started a web management company that grew rapidly — within two years, a company of over 50 people. At his wedding, we all noticed the level of luxury. A decade later, cheaper overseas competition and mismanagement bankrupted him; he had spent all his capital on trips, parties, and credit-financed apartments and cars, and was left with nothing. Another pair of friends were wiped out when Venezuela closed food exports. The "fat cows" syndrome is very tempting: a tsunami of economic success arrives, and no matter how much is spent, the surplus feels greater still.

Personal finances are like a swimming pool full of water: a main pipe — income — and pipes that drain water — fixed and variable expenses. If inflow exceeds outflow, the pool rises and might overflow, so it must be enlarged (invested in growth), stored in tanks, or simply spent. In the worst case, comfort makes people careless about the pool walls, and tiles at the bottom crack unseen — water is lost through cracks no one is watching. Comprehensive financial advice looks past the tip of the iceberg — buying and selling assets — to the cause of wealth generation itself: cash flow, emergency funds, insurance, pension optimization, and only then, sustainable investment.

A school friend, Jorge, a doctor, wanted to build an investment portfolio but his plan seemed permanently on pause. When I finally asked what was holding him back, he confessed: "I'm afraid — I don't trust the advisors who visit me. If I don't tell them the truth about everything that worries me, I won't get truly comprehensive advice." I told him his fear had protected him, because many people offer weak advice, or worse, self-medicate financially and pay dearly for it. I asked his wife a simple question: "In whose name is the house?" A deep silence fell. We had to build their map — goals, fears, ambitions — before setting a plan, the same way a general practitioner builds the foundation for any health plan before a specialist ever gets involved. Millions make financial decisions without truly comprehensive advice — that is, without a compass. A bad investment decision can leave a family homeless.

Many postpone building capital, waiting for higher income to make up for lost time. What this belief ignores is that when income finally rises, so do temptations typical of that new level: "Now you need a car befitting a manager." "Finally, we'll go abroad, now that you're doing well." It's not that we should live full of restrictions — enjoyment matters — but it must happen in a planned way, negotiated with family, or it becomes a pressure cooker that seeks release irrationally.

Now, allow yourself an exercise: mark which mistakes you recognize in yourself.

Fewer than 5 — nobody is perfect. Between 5 and 7 — you might suffer from financial glaucoma. More than 7 — you might suffer from financial anxiety. Whatever the count, this is essential reflection: many people believe they have everything "under control," but in reality, their monetary balance is too fragile — even with large capital.

Is it possible to change economic behavior after a single financial advisory session, or an entertaining training? Do you learn to ride a bicycle in a seminar, or by watching a video? The answer to both is no. To program behaviors, you must first visualize them, then understand the theory, and then practice repeatedly with the help of a coach who guides you. An iceberg has the majority of its mass below the surface — the visible part above water is much smaller than what lies beneath. This analogy perfectly explains the depth of the bicycle model. It isn't just about understanding the parts of a bicycle, but the concepts and criteria that form your capacity hidden behind the model — beneath the water.

Most people don't believe they need to change anything about their economic behaviors. So, either a deep vision of what the bicycle model can do is required, or unfortunately, they end up changing through crisis — the most effective teacher of all, and sadly the one most people rely on, with huge aftereffects on themselves and their families.

Who is really taking practical care of the middle class? Who had a personal finance workshop in school? It is not all about Gross Domestic Product viewed from corporate cocktails — the dialogue must come down to the individual level, to a simple model: the bicycle model. To move past aspiration, I developed new, precise definitions of the economic-social classes.

Rich: someone who can consistently cover their fixed monthly costs without needing to work — what we call "autopilot." Under this definition, a farmer who rents out land and covers expenses, a widow living on a pension, or an investor living off capital income all immediately qualify as rich. Poor: someone who cannot cover their monthly expenses and must rely on debt, government support, or help from others — this includes people in luxury apartments who depend entirely on someone else to maintain that lifestyle. Middle class: someone who could become rich by building a strategy of income-generating assets that cover their fixed costs — through saving, minimizing fixed expenses, increasing income, or a combination of the three.

I've also identified three emotional postures within the middle class. The New Middle Class comes from poor neighborhoods, still remembers unmet basic needs, and feels the satisfaction of progress — an "I can" mindset that is a sign of hope, provided consumerism doesn't quietly pull them back toward the definition of poor. The Proud Middle Class has a long history of hard work, values the price-value balance over status symbols, and often grows wealthy without ever thinking of themselves as anything but middle class — which is precisely why their wealth grows in a sustained, exponential way. The Resentful Middle Class was born into wealth, or believed it was wealthy, and cannot maintain that standard of living as adults; financial glaucoma is the dominant mental state here, projecting success through debt and inherited luxury goods even while, quietly, becoming poor.

Millions of people unconsciously live trying to project an image of wealth they don't actually possess, and for that reason never change. In my financial reflection sessions, I foster deep analysis of what success means, and what money means, for each individual — asking people to define themselves, and success, without any material bias. Life took me, after the financial sector, into several years in retail, where I met wonderful entrepreneurs in the hardware business — powerful distributors of pipes, abrasives, and nails managing significant wealth that grows solidly precisely because of the balance between business growth and family consumption. For them, having things was a consequence of their essence, not a goal in itself.

Fear is an excellent motivator of human behavior. Ambition is the root of all economic and social progress. In economic terms, fear can be associated with risk, and ambition with return — but these are static definitions; they don't drive change on their own. I use the "Five Whys" method, a quality tool developed by Toyota, to reach the root of a fear. Juan fears not being able to provide a quality education for his children. Why? Because his current expenses won't allow it. Why can't he reduce them? Because he's unwilling to lower his standard of living. Why not? Because he values today's comforts more than tomorrow's plan. Why? Because he's trapped in a lifestyle misaligned with his own stated priorities — which suggests he suffers from high financial anxiety. Ambitions, once we find their root, should not be vague dreams; they must be specific, detailed, and actionable.

Only you, in the depths of your own being — in your inner dialogues — can define the values, beliefs, and paradigms that shape your behavior. They are not rigid; they can be altered by events like family conflict, illness, job loss, or a shift in worldview. It's not all about saving and nothing else. Remember: it's about balance, like riding a bicycle — enjoying today while planning for a sustainable tomorrow.

When I started my professional career, many of us used our first paychecks to buy a car on credit. My friend Abel didn't — he focused on saving, coordinating rides, and taking the bus. Years later, he bought a used car and paid it in full. While most of us finished grad school with debt, Abel, still living with his parents, had saved enough to pursue a master's degree at one of the best universities in the United States. I ran into him years later at an airport — Abel was a top executive at a multinational investment fund. Neither path was wrong. Some chose more immediate pleasures, at a real financial cost; Abel delayed gratification and gained significantly. What matters is avoiding financial anxiety, whichever path we choose.

These concepts are closest to the surface of the iceberg — they support both wheels of our bicycle. It is very important to visualize how you want to live in the future: where, doing what, feeling how, at what standard of living, and how you will meet your needs. In my workshops, it's surprising how few people have a clear vision of their future — and even fewer share it with their partners. This is one of the causes of financial anxiety: going forward without knowing where you're headed. That's why we recommend couples build their bicycle model together, before marriage, before creating that lifelong partnership called family.

"Living in competition is living in the denial of love." — Humberto Maturana, Chilean biologist

Let's stop unconsciously competing like peacocks, showing off the external. Let's make what we own, and what we show, reflect a deliberate and sustainable inner balance — not one rooted in fear or excessive ambition. You can build the perfect bicycle model, but if your fundamentals — your implicit needs, your conditioning, your values — are not aligned, your bicycle will soon become useless, its wheels sinking into the water instead of moving you forward.

With only a front wheel, you will never reach a destination — nobody gets on a bicycle just to keep their balance without pedaling. The rear wheel is the traction your bicycle needs to actually achieve your goals. Unlike the front wheel's more introspective skills, each rear-wheel skill is tied to something concrete you can measure.

Financial health is not an enormous capital growing endlessly without direction — it's the balance between your ability to generate and spend money, now and in the future, and how your wealth is aligned with that balance. Being financially healthy means feeling that you're on the right path, so your internal conversations about money become less distressing. Financial health is the speedometer of your bicycle — a combined score built from how many of your goals are on track, what share of your income you can save, how much of your spending is truly variable, and whether you know your future retirement income. Under 30% means you need real effort. Between 30% and 60% means you're doing something right. Over 60% means a good trend, and over 80% means you're doing very well.

List your assets from most liquid — cash, marketable investments — to least liquid, like an old vehicle or a lot with no road access, and know how many months of fixed costs you could finance if your income stopped tomorrow; on average, families need between 6 and 18 months. In one workshop, a client told me he could retire that year, counting on income from an entrepreneurial project: buying ten taxis. When we ran the real numbers together, including a manager, maintenance, and cash-handling costs, the projected return was far lower than he'd assumed. We agreed he'd start with two taxis and reassess after a year. Five years later, he had grown a full fleet, covering his family's expenses and, harder than before, doing work he loved.

Your fixed costs determine your current quality of life — where you live, the car you drive, your children's school. Your variable costs are the ones you can choose not to incur without anything drastic happening to your lifestyle. The health of your rear wheel is not just its ability to generate cash flow — you could have strong cash flow and still put it all at risk by mismanaging your net worth. Both must be combined into one honest picture: how much is left over each month after every expense, and where your assets truly stand once debts are subtracted.

As a benchmark: a final net cash flow under 15% is inefficient, between 15% and 35% is average, and over 35% is optimal. On debt: owning less than 50% of your net worth free and clear (excluding your primary residence) is unsustainable, 50% is average, and over 80% is an ideal position — unless the debt is financing a business generating income, in which case the context changes entirely. These are warning indicators, like cholesterol levels — they don't mean something is "wrong," but that it's time to make changes.

If you want to fix a lack of net worth growth, the simplest solution is to reduce monthly expenses — but of course, it isn't easy; it might mean a less expensive neighborhood, different tastes, a longer commute. Two moves tend to move the needle the most: stop using debt to cover fixed or variable expenses, and redirect any savings capacity toward paying down debt first. The fewer interest payments you make, the better your net worth's return — which frees up money that increases your savings capacity, which improves your cash flow percentage, moving you from red to yellow, and eventually to green.

Recommendation: review or update your bicycle model every three months, regardless of your net worth. This is often a cultural shift for a family, not just a technical exercise — so it works best done step by step, together, and revisited quarterly like a proactive check-up, rather than a reaction to a crisis.

In society there are extremes — people like Juan and Lucía, or like my Aunt Lelita, who from her youth dedicated her life to The Little Sisters of the Poor, caring for elderly people without resources or family. I was struck by the sad, distant look in many residents' eyes. Over meals we served together, I would ask some of them how they ended up there. Many said: "I never thought this would happen to me — I had success, life smiled at me…" My aunt would quietly add: "Some danced away their last cent. At least they're safe here now."

In surveys I've run during conferences, I've found a consistent pattern: those focused mainly on having often show low levels of economic sustainability — they always need more. Those focused on transcending tend to need less, engage more deeply with others, and achieve greater success in their personal and social goals. A transcendent focus acts like a magnet for economic sustainability. My aunt told me of times when the home had no meat for the elderly — and then, unexpectedly, a bull would wander into the garage, as if sent by fate.

This doesn't mean we must reject money or good experiences — it's about avoiding the trap of accumulation for appearance's sake. True wealth lies in building a role in society, a dream, and the ability to inspire others toward a shared reality. Today, you can drive a new car off the lot with no money down. Luxury and status are addictive experiences, not just for their utility, but for what they signal socially. The balance lies in how much value we place on material things versus how much we value ourselves, regardless of trends or status. Self-love is the fuel for seeing your life in perspective — helping you balance today's consumption with tomorrow's sustainability. And remember: the only resource without a price tag is time. Give it to those who need it most.

If you've read this far, it's a strong sign your financial ego is already on its way to being tamed — those with an oversized financial ego usually think they don't need a book like this one. From here forward, ignorance, financial passivity, or financial glaucoma are no longer valid excuses. The path is to identify your enslaving implicit needs, your economic conditioning, and the psychological "therapy" you practice — or that others practice on you — while examining your own trilogy of values, beliefs, and paradigms. This is how you build a personal socio-economic self-definition that doesn't trap you in financial anxiety, but instead drives you to create sustainable realities. If possible, power your journey with a second rear wheel called entrepreneurship, if your investor profile allows it. Even if you can't increase alternative income right away, side activities create room to explore new business ideas, career changes, or ventures.

Managing your finances with this model means relearning — much like when you first learned to ride a real bicycle. The key is to identify your fears and ambitions so your plan stays aligned with a transcendent definition of self — one that allows you to create an inspiring, motivating economic vision that balances present enjoyment with future security. Not everything has to be for the future — use the bicycle model as a negotiation tool within your family, so you can all enjoy today while planning wisely for tomorrow.

Ten steps, in order, whenever you're ready to put the model into motion:

You have several paths from here: do it yourself, with this book as your guide; or work with an online coach through bifici.com. Either way, the key is to identify your fears and ambitions so your plan stays aligned with who you truly are — allowing you to create an inspiring vision that balances today's enjoyment with tomorrow's security. And if you ever need help, you know where to find us.