It’s Not a Failure. It’s a Plot Twist

(above) Photo of Eddie Dix ’07 from the 2007 Blaze, and more recently in 2024.

Eddie Dix ’07 Turns Setbacks into New Chapters

Eddie Dix has had his share of setbacks, but, ever the optimist, he doesn’t let anything keep him down. From reframing what was once called a learning disability to turning obstacles into stepping stones, Eddie’s life is a testament to resilience. After conquering his fear of failure, every experience—good or bad—became just another door opening.

In the early spring of 2020, Eddie sat alone in his car after locking the doors at his first business—a physical recovery and rehabilitation clinic in Boulder, Colorado— shuttered due to the pandemic. COVID had upended his dreams, and he wasn’t sure what would come next.

“When you go through something like that, there are different phases,” Eddie reflects. “The first is gut wrenching, feeling like, ‘Oh, no! I just messed up my whole life.’ And some people get stuck in that moment, fixating on the failure and carrying it like a burden and making any advancement impossible. Then you get to a point where you think, ‘I don’t have to carry this weight,’ and once you realize that, you’ll be able to see the opportunities in front of you.”

For Eddie, that empty parking lot in Boulder wasn’t the first time he had felt alone, defeated, and uncertain about where he belonged in the world. As a young student with severe ADHD, he struggled in the classroom and often felt like the system had already written him off. His parents were teachers at Andover, and growing up surrounded by traditional academic excellence didn’t help his self-image. His sister soared—Ivy League, cum laude, and an M&A executive. Eddie, in contrast, was the student whom teachers described as “distracted.” He recalls, “Sitting in class was physically painful for me.” At the time, success felt just out of reach.

That changed when he arrived at Cardigan. For the first time, a school felt like the right fit. The students were welcoming, the teachers engaging, and the structure didn’t punish his learning difference; it gave him space to figure it out and harness it for good. At Cardigan, success meant more than grades. Athletics and dorm citizenship carried equal weight. Being “smart” didn’t mean sitting still all day; it meant thinking critically and contributing to the larger community—and that’s where Eddie excelled.

Cardigan never labeled him for his ADHD. He wasn’t sidelined or held to lower standards. Like everyone else, he was expected to lead. Sitting at a desk still wasn’t easy, but Eddie was socially gifted and formed strong relationships with his teachers, coaches, and peers. He earned leadership roles, including floor leader and captain of both varsity hockey and baseball. Amidst all the moving parts of daily life at Cardigan, he began to see his fast, scattered, imaginative way of thinking not as a liability but as a strength. That realization shaped everything that came next.
 

AI, just like ADHD, is often mischaracterized or feared, but when understood and harnessed, it’s a gift. Eddie Dix ’07

High school brought more ups and downs, and Eddie’s confidence wavered; so rather than go to college immediately, he chose a military path: “It was about reclaiming control. I knew I had the social skills to get by, but I wanted to prove—to myself and others—that I could be academically disciplined too.”

The Marines gave him structure and grit—and time to think. While others partied, Eddie studied. He worked out, earned an associate degree online, and achieved a black belt in Marine Corps Martial Arts. The military wasn’t meant to be a career; it was a crucible—a place where he could shape himself into the man he wanted to be. He recalls a line from Walden, “The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation,” as a stark warning. He refused to be typecast or live down to society’s expectations. He was determined to build a life defined by “purpose, energy, and inspiration.”

Eddie’s military experiment worked. By the end of his service, he was physically and mentally strong, focused, and ready. He returned to school, studied physiology and biochemistry at the University of Arizona, and dove into medical sales, combining his new academic credentials with proven street-smart people skills. Success came quickly, and his ambitions grew. When the opportunity arose to open his own physical rehabilitation clinic, he took it, quickly building a client list that included college and professional athletes. The future looked bright.

And then came COVID and lockdown.

“Closing that business was humbling, and moving back in with my parents felt like a personal defeat,” he remembers. “But at the same time, I felt free. I thought, ‘I have this whole new, clean slate and the possibilities are endless.’”

Embracing a new direction, Eddie moved forward, unencumbered by the past and focused on what was next. He accepted a new job, transitioned from orthopedics to oncology, and soon became fascinated with the role data plays in diagnostics. Once again, his learning “disability” became a creative asset, allowing him to imagine what others couldn’t.

Eddie recounts his a-ha moment in a cab on the way to a football game with his fiancée. Stressing about an upcoming sales call, he lamented with frustration about the lack of a better system for sales reps to gather intel before meetings. As he pieced together his own research from unhelpful and incongruent sources, he exclaimed, “Why can’t we just use AI for this?!”

“Every week, I found myself burning countless hours sifting through spreadsheets, CRM exports and physician profiles just to figure out who to call, what to say, and when to engage,” he says. “I knew I could build a better option.”

Recognizing his insight and potential innovation, his fiancée suggested they skip the game and start building something. They handed their tickets to the driver, headed home, and once again, Eddie dove into business ownership.

In October 2024, he founded RepPrep.ai, a platform that uses artificial intelligence to generate analytics and insights for medical sales representatives, helping them prepare more efficiently and effectively.

“The software doesn’t replace reps—it enhances them, using tools I never could have imagined as a restless kid bouncing in the back of a classroom,” says Eddie. “AI, just like ADHD, is often mischaracterized or feared, but when understood and harnessed, it’s a gift. Our service transforms raw, messy data into clear insights.”

Looking back, Eddie says he’s grateful. Grateful for Cardigan. For the Marines. Even for the struggles—for ADHD, and for the business that failed. Those experiences led to new opportunities, and none of the setbacks were wasted.

In fact, he’s had so many course corrections, he doesn’t even think of them as failures anymore. He calls them “plot twists.” And with each new turn comes another exciting chapter.

“I’ve learned that life isn’t pass or fail,” he says. “It’s a series of experiences and opportunities. Success is just on the other side of failure. No matter what it is that I go through, any negative experience that seems soul-crushing at the time always leads to something incredible and amazing.”

This article was originally published in the summer 2025 issue of the Cardigan Chronicle