So there I am, just me and my skis, staring down a rocky mountain. I’m at the top of the Main Chute at Alta Ski Area on Mt. Baldy. This run is the stuff of legend.

In over a dozen trips to Alta, Mt. Baldy has never been open. Both the weather conditions and avalanche danger need to be perfect, which is tough in a canyon that gets over 500” of snow per winter. But on this lucky day, I had hiked 20 minutes to the top. After two decades of anticipation, the thrill was incredible. My adrenaline was pumping, my heart was pounding, and my breath was calm.

The truth is, I can’t remember the last time I felt that way.

I started skiing at the young age of six when my body was very close to the ground and the stakes for falling were low (pun intended).

But as a young boy and then a young adult, I frequently took the opportunity to push my limits. In the sport of skiing, I gradually moved my way up to more and more difficult terrain. By the time I was finishing high school, my ski trips were filled with a search for the most challenging runs on the mountain. I loved the challenge, the rush of pushing myself.

This drive to push myself also led me to run five marathons, including three Boston Marathons. It included frequent international travel for school, church, and business. It included moving out on my own, going away to college, studying abroad, finding my first job (not as a caddy), moving to New York City, and so much more. Every one of these experiences pushed my limits and brought about tremendous personal growth. The ups and downs, but perhaps mostly the downs that came with these experiences, helped shape the person I am today.

Then somewhere along the way, things started to get less “limit pushing” in that kind of thrill-seeking, feeling-scared way.

When we got married, we both continued to push ourselves and each other, taking adventures together and embarking on our early careers. But eventually, kids came along and our lives were changed forever. Life truly became about others for the first time. As this took place, life just got more suburban.

Meanwhile on the work front, as I’ve entered my “middle career”, everything isn’t fresh and new anymore. Yes, it can be challenging, but in a different way. The transition to being a resource first, rather than just a sponge for learning has taken place. I still seek out learning opportunities every day, but I’m also sought out more and more as someone else’s learning opportunity.

You’re not learning if you’re not uncomfortable.

-Brene Brown

In early life, it seems like adversity comes your way frequently and you get to push your limits daily. But as you get older, you can go long stretches just feeling comfortable. The opportunity to feel the nerves of standing atop a steeply pitched ski slope, stepping up to the marathon starting line, setting foot in a new country as a 20-year-old kid, or showing up for the first day of work on Wall Street, rarely happens anymore.

If you’re not careful, I could see how it could be easy to just “phone it in” at this point.

This is why I love skiing.

There is still nothing quite like sitting atop a rock-lined chute, knowing that you must execute your plan or risk a bad outcome. It feels like there is something on the line. Stakes are high. At the top of that chute, nothing will help me; not my 401k, not some sage advice, not a software program. It’s just me and my skis.

Upon dropping off the cornice, the first few turns are fraught with the most uncertainty, the true snow conditions being unknown until they are experienced. But upon successfully navigating the prologue, you find your rhythm and methodically swish back and forth down the slope.

(It was so good that I decided to do it again and ski Main Chute’s buddy, Little Chute. As I was making my way back to the top, I received a tip from a ski instructor to cut skier’s right about a third of the way down to find better snow. So attempting to follow his instructions, I took a wrong turn. Enjoy the video at the bottom of this post if you’d like to see what happened.

My experience in Little Chute is one of those moments where I stretched myself to stay calm, trust my training and skills, and ultimately I made it out unscathed. The exhilaration of emerging out of the bottom of that rocky couloir was a great feeling.

But why is pushing yourself so important as a business owner?

I’ve watched some business owners become comfortable with what they’ve built and become complacent and uninspired.

If you can find ways to continue to stretch your mind, body, and spirit, it will translate into every facet of your life.

Sometimes the best way to feel alive and to stimulate creativity and what makes us human is to feel a little scared.

When we sense that risk, it brings a focus that is often lost in the distraction of our technology-infused world.

And so my challenge to you is to set some goals to do something uncomfortable. Sign up for a race, do something outdoors, get into the gym, practice silence, turn off your phone.

Do whatever you have to do to feel uncomfortable and push your limits.

I can’t wait to hear what creativity and fresh insights you unlock when you’re soaring down your own version of Mt. Baldy, whatever that may be.

Please reach out and let me know.
Until then, I’ll be cheering you on.