The Power of Shared Truth

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A small excerpt from OutThink. Enjoy!challenger

Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter.”
– Dr. Rev. Martin Luther King Jr.

I was sixteen years old at the moment the Challenger Space Shuttle exploded high above NASA Kennedy Space Center in Florida, killing seven astronauts including New Hampshire schoolteacher Christa McAuliffe. Sadly, because a schoolteacher was on board, there were thousands of children around the country watching the event unfold on live television. In the months following, Richard Feynman, renowned physicist, was asked to help understand what happened in the Challenger disaster.

He not only gave a famous testimony to Congress describing the O-ring failure that led to the catastrophe, he also led a more quiet inquiry conducting interviews of the NASA engineers and leaders. He devoted the latter half of his book What Do You Care What Other People Think? to his experience working on the Rogers Commission. One of his sober conclusions was that the engineers on the front lines building the componentry had a much different perspective than the leaders in the organization regarding assessment of risk.

This recognition of risk disparity started when Louis Ullian, the range safety officer at Kennedy Space Center began an inquiry into whether or not to place destruct charges on manned Challenger, or other manned rocket flights. It was common practice at the time to have remote destruct charges placed on unmanned rockets in case something went wrong. The thinking was it would be safer to remotely destruct an out-of-control rocket, rather than have an out-of-control rocket dangerously explode on the ground. Ullian discovered a 4% failure rate among unmanned rocket flights he researched, and calculated that manned rocket flights, with their much higher safety standards and preparations, had about a 1% failure rate. However, when he inquired with NASA he was advised the official probability of failure for a manned rocket flight was 1 in 100,000. He told this figure to Feynman, who replied, “That means you could fly the shuttle every day for an average of 300 years between accidents – which is obviously crazy!”

Ullian needed a figure to inform his decision of whether or not to place remote destruct charges on manned rockets and settled on 1 in 1000 as a compromise. However, with NASA management estimating 1 in 100,000, Feynman became interested in finding out what the acting engineers believed the failure probability rates were.

Feyman requested a meeting with a group of engineers and began asking questions about how the rockets worked, were assembled, etc., in order to make a probability assessment. After a couple hours he hit on a better idea: ask the engineers in the room what their opinion of the risk was. He said to them, “Here’s a piece of paper each. Please write on your paper the answer to this question: what do you think is the probability that a flight would be uncompleted due to a failure in the engine.” He collected and averaged the answers in the room: 1 in 300.

Feynman went on to observe that unlike airplanes or cars, which are built “bottom up” using integrated systems that have been tried and tested over time, the space shuttle, as a unique vehicle was built “top down.” That is, it was conceived as a whole and built from individual and unique parts assembled to suit a finished product. In calculating the potential failure probability, the NASA engineers had evaluated the potential failure rate of each individual component, and extrapolated a failure probability of 1 in 100,000. This makes complete sense when you consider that individually the failure probability of an engine blade, electrical cable or bolt is vanishingly small.

What the engineers knew innately from their hands-on perspective, was that the failure probability of the dynamically assembled whole structure was far higher. Yet even with that knowledge available in the minds of the engineers, it didn’t come out until Feynman asked the question. In order to get closer to the truth and gain higher aspirations of everyone in the organization, first we have to find the hidden truths. And the hidden truths are at the edges of the organization with the people who are closest to the work – closest to the potential problem.

We have to ask those at the edges what they believe to be the truth. As leaders in the organization we have the obligation to say out loud that we don’t know the intricacies of complex projects, and we expect and demand that those closest to the detail surface publicly any concerns.

Paul, a Hippo, and how we respond to what happens

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templerbookPaul Templer is from Zimbabwe. He grew up in Harare with my dear friend and college roommate Anton. So I had the privilege to meet Paul over twenty years ago while he was traveling, and visiting us, in the States. At the time I recall he was a free spirit, wild, fun, adventurous. The summer after that visit to our college in North Carolina we all lived together in a rental apartment in Chiswick, London. We worked as laborers for a tenting company with a few Aussies and Kiwis. It was a blast. And always Paul was a generous, caring and great guy to be around.

One time I commented how much I appreciated his velskoene shoes from Africa. Velskoenes are traditional leather bush boots, pronounced ‘fellsquin’ and more known commonly as ‘fellies.’ Anyway, at the end of his visit he said he would like me to have them. I insisted on paying him something. He said, “surprise me with whatever you want to pay for them, but they are yours.” I gave him everything in my pocket – which was about $23 and proudly wore and appreciated these African boots.

A few years later we had all graduated and set off on other adventures. Paul returned to Zimbabwe to become a licensed river and bush guide and establish a touring company. This story you might vaguely recall from over ten years ago, because his heroic efforts during a river trip hit the international news wire, and was later featured in a National Geographic story. Paul was guiding a group of tourists down the Zambezi river and had divided his clients between himself and the two other guides aiding him that day. Paul was keenly aware hippos are notoriously territorial and took precaution to keep his group close and periodically bang the side of the boat to encourage the hippos to surface and be seen.

Suddenly his friend’s guide boat was flipped by a 4,000lb hippo and both the guide and his clients were launched into the river. Paul immediately lept into the river to save his guide and direct his clients to the shore, but the hippo attacked Paul repeatedly, holding him down beneath the surface, until eventually when he was freed by the beast and swam to shore. His arm had been nearly severed and his lung had been punctured. The nearest surgeon was 270 miles away in Bulawayo over a dusty difficult jeep ride, and hours later upon arriving, the doctor was left with no choice but to amputate Paul’s arm.

The experience threw him into a funk. With no money, no job and no arm, after months Paul picked himself up and started again. Paul’s second act has been to marry, father three beautiful children and become a successful, dedicated and talented speaker, coach, adventurer, philanthropist and inspiration for many around the world. In the wake of this event, Paul has found strength. In his own words, “Stuff happens. Life is going to happen. The only thing we have any choice over is how we respond to what life throws at us.”

I encourage you to have a look at his new book, What’s Left of Me. Enjoy!

It’s OK, Einstein talked to himself too.

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talktoself“Dad, they’re huge!” The other team was way bigger. Faster, and more physical too. At one point during the game my son Will was being marked by one of their defenders who looked like he might trip over him. But the match remained even throughout the first half as our team deftly moved the ball around the field. True, the opposition had more breakaways and explosive plays, but once we recaptured the ball we passed tightly up the field to create opportunities.

Okay, this was U11 soccer and not actually as elegant as I describe. But while we were clearly outmatched in size and speed by the older U12 team we were playing, we eventually won the game decisively simply through superior team play, passing and handling skills. From what I could see, the boys never hesitated in their confidence despite what could have been an intimidating first half playing a bigger team.

In the words of performance coach Jaki Hitzelberger, she would call this the difference between proactive and reactive confidence. Reactive confidence is confidence built by responding to external conditions like a poor warm-up, the first few plays of the game, or the size and demeanor of the opposition. Whereas proactive confidence originates from the internal mindset of the player. Players with proactive confidence have stable confidence throughout the game, focus on their strengths, trust their teammates and visualize success before the game even begins.

High performers often do something else people may regard as odd or strange. They talk to themselves. Einstein famously didn’t talk at all until about four years of age and then began talking by often quietly muttering sentences to himself. An interesting recent study discovered that people who talk to themselves about what they are trying to accomplish, or trying to find, are more successful than those who don’t.

And as Dan Coyle reminds us here, how you talk to yourself matters a great deal. The most effective phrasing turns negative stress into positive challenge.

Before any meeting, interaction, activity or game, remember Jaki’s advice to remain confident despite changing circumstances or early failures, trust your teammates and colleagues, and visualize success. Try saying these things out loud too.

Parents: Your Kids Are Watching

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parentsarewatchingAside from a smattering of applause here and there, the parents were completely silent. And myself, as the coach, instead of standing on the sidelines and giving instruction periodically to players, I was sitting on the bench watching quietly, with a clipboard updating positions where the kids were playing on the field. And keeping track of time remaining in the game.

We were participating in a weekend of “Silent Sidelines.” Aside from light applause, parents and coaches are all asked to remain silent throughout the game. The point of the exercise is to give the game back to the kids because it is, after all, a game. Instead of listening to the often confusing shouts of parents and coaches who can succumb to “joysticking” players from the sidelines and providing specific kinds of shouts and directions – “Move left! Farther! Faster! Pass Pass! Get back on defense! Quick!” – the adults stay quiet while the kids work it out themselves.

During these games, the only thing you hear is the kids talking to each other on the field. And over the course of the game their banter got louder and more assertive. They gained confidence in supporting each other, and less distracted by the usual noise from the sidelines. Almost universally, everyone participating last weekend agreed it was a valuable exercise.

I embraced the notion of “giving the game back to the kids” to the extent of even allowing them to pick their own positions during substitutions. The only provision, of course, was that kids could not choose the same player to substitute for. It worked for the most part. I had to intervene a few times when kids all wanted to play the same position.

The exercise reminded me of David Kelley, CEO and founder of IDEO, the premiere design and innovation firm. As you can imagine David has often assembled and led team meetings populated with sharp, creative and opinionated people. I had an interview with Stanford professor and writer Bob Sutton who described David’s behavior at these meetings. When things are going poorly – when there is a lack of focus and agreement and direction – Kelley will spend a significant amount of time at the front of the room guiding discussion and reinforcing ideas from everyone. And when the discussions are going well, he will move to the back of the room, and only punctuate the discussion with occasional provocative questions.

And when meetings are going very well, if you aren’t paying attention, David might slip out the door. Because he understands not only that the best ideas come from the people in the organization but also that his presence can possibly stifle conversation, and get in the way. He calls this “Managing by walking out the door.”

Double-check your gear, take some lessons and have a backup plan

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SailingIntoTheStormWe live on a street called Bayview. There’s no view of the bay. At least not from our house. The actual view of the bay is through the trees about a quarter mile beyond a stand of pines down to a boatyard behind our house. With three young kids, living by the ocean I felt we needed a boat, right? A sailboat would heighten our senses, present new challenges and landscapes, offer new adventure.

I knew enough about sailing I guessed, but my wife thought otherwise, and so I settled on purchasing something smaller, a day sailing vessel. I went on Craigslist and found the perfect thing – a little 13 foot O’Day sailboat, with room for myself and a couple kids. Perhaps I could even convince my wife to venture out with me and a picnic basket. I contacted the owner and hatched a plan to purchase the boat, with trailer, on our annual excursion to Mooselookmeguntic Lake in Maine.

I knew my wife wouldn’t have patience for the transaction and so I took our boys to close the deal at a sprawling farm near the lake. The owner said he had never sailed the 1973 O’Day but had all the rigging, sails, and original paperwork. It appeared to be neglected, fairly unused, yet preserved well beneath a canopy of tarps to shelter the boat throughout the winter months. I handed over the $800, hitched the trailer and boat to our van and rolled off to our vacation camp to admire the boat.

The lake is over 16,000 acres and runs predominantly north-south. Our cabin was situated on the south-east shore of the lake, and there was a nice boat ramp on the southern end of the lake, perhaps 2 miles from our camp rental. Perfect. I made a plan to launch the boat at the south end, sail east around Toothaker Island and then north a mile or so to our camp. A perfect maiden voyage to test the vessel and my skills.

The following morning we towed the boat to the launch, and I inexpertly rigged the sails and mast. In a last-minute decision I decided not to bring my oldest son, who looked longingly from the beach as I set out. It proved to be a smart decision.
Of course I hadn’t checked the wind direction or strength or developing weather, and set out with cheerful smiles from the little boat. What I didn’t know was that the wind was developing quickly, and increasing in intensity from the north. To get home I would be sailing into strengthening wind. And from where I launched the boat I was sheltered by Toothaker Island just a half mile north of me. As I approached the end of the island intending to tack north, I saw whitecaps and wind whipping directly ahead where the island shelter ended and the open uninterrupted lake started.

Then as I neared the end of the shelter of the island I noticed my feet were getting wet. I looked down to discover water streaming up from the bottom of the boat and realized I had forgotten to plug the drainage hole with the steel plug I left in the car. No problem, I place one foot firmly on the hole to stop the leak, and struggle to maintain a straight line across the wind.

So it goes, as I near the open lake and the wind increases unprotected by the island, I pull hard on the tiller to maintain course, and something snaps. It’s a thing I learn later is called a pintle. It’s what holds the rudder in place. Half of it broke off. Now as the open lake approaches, and the racing winds increase, I’m suddenly aware I’m in a strange boat, with an open hole in the bottom covered only by my foot, a wobbly rudder, and a mile of open water ahead.

I have perhaps a minute or two before I clear the end of the island and take the full force of the winds broadside. The far east coast of the lake is perhaps a mile or more away. I think about ditching, turning into the rocks on the end of Toothaker Island. If I wait any longer at all, I’ll be beyond the shelter of the island and into the lake, and in the swell of the waves and the full strength of the wind. Testing the tiller I find I have almost no ability to climb the wind, I can’t turn north, toward home.

Here’s my thought process: If I ditch into the rocks of the island, I’ll be safe, yet lost alone on an uninhabited small island, with the boat likely damaged. If I continue into the open swells and increasing winds, the tiller could either snap completely off, or possibly hold at least until I make land on the far side. If the remaining pintle fails and the rudder comes loose altogether, then I’m set adrift. I’ll simply drop the mainsail and drift with the wind and waves to the south end of the lake. I decide sinking won’t happen. I have no experience to know this is true as the water seeps past my foot covering the hole and the waves wash over the side, but I’m confident in my hunch.

I go for it. The winds increase as I leave the protected lee of the island, and I loosen the mainsail to dump the wind, and somehow manage an agreement between the wrecked rudder and the winds to hold a course directly east to the far side.

Miraculously, I land on the only little beach on the whole rocky coast, which happens to also be at the home of a lovely couple who take me in, dry my off, and offer a ride home to my camp. I decline the ride of course, because of pride and the need to digest the adventure on my walk around the lake back to our cabin.

Over the next few days I made trips to the hardware store, did some homework on boats and sailing, fixed the rudder and sailed it safely back to our cabin. Taking calculated chances makes for good memories and adventures. But check your gear, take some lessons first, have a backup plan, and take a deep breath.

It’s not about who, but how you do it

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passing-the-baton

I don’t believe in failure. It is not failure if you enjoyed the process.”
– Oprah Winfrey

Drummer Hoff was one of my favorite childhood books. It’s a story about people who, in turn, provide pieces of a cannon (“Sergeant Chowder brought the powder, Corporal Farrell brought the barrel…”), and then finally it’s Drummer Hoff who fires it off – KAH-BAH-BLOOM! It’s a lesson in teamwork, a lesson in process.

In 1985 Michael Jordan was Rookie of the Year. Yet after just a couple of seasons, critics were whispering if he really had what it takes to bring the Chicago Bulls to championship level. Then Jordan learned to play defense as well as he could score. Then he honed his team instincts, and then came the 1990-1991 season which started an eight year run in which Jordan would lead the Bulls to six Championships. Even the great Jordan couldn’t do it alone.

I recently participated in a 4-hour client presentation with five of my colleagues, all from different parts of the company. It worked beautifully, and we all agreed that each person had played a unique and crucial role. We started by envisioning the outcome. Then, we created a process for composing and delivering the presentation to fulfill that ambition. Finally, we chose the right people to play each position. We didn’t start with the people.

The how is the process. The who are the people who perform the tasks. Yes, the impact, the why, matters. But after settling on the why, think about the how.

Here’s a few reasons why how beats who:

  • Process is replicable and scalable. When the process isn’t clearly identified, evaluated, and constantly improved, the results aren’t easily repeatable. When we place results alone as the overarching goal, we de-emphasize the process that got us there.When we de-emphasize the process, we can’t easily retrace our steps and examine, dissect, and replicate how we got there.
  • Process emphasizes networks, not heroes. A results-only culture can provide too much focus and reward on sole contributors, creating superstars deemed irreplaceable. Results then can take on a heroic quality. This has a doubly negative effect because it not only relies on the elusive and unqualified “talent” of an individual, but also handicaps that individual with a superstar label.
  • Process builds integrity. If it’s the results that count, not how we got there, then we risk inviting unethical behavior to gain the result. The global financial crisis taught us that predatory lending bankers with little oversight and with quick money as their sole motivation were gleefully willing to game the system to their benefit.
  • Process cultures remove blame and heighten intelligent risk. Results are the culmination of a series of decisions that are sometimes intricate and often involve many stakeholders. Individuals at all levels of the process chain contribute decisions that eventually lead to an outcome. It’s possible that a strong, high-quality decision can lead to a poor outcome for reasons entirely beyond the control of the person who made the decision.

You have great taste. And it’s killing your work.

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wine_taster_1What’s your most enjoyable pop music out there today? Mumford & Sons? The Lumineers? Carly Rae Jepsen?

Please. Get that weak sauce out of here. For ten minutes of toe-tappin, wide grinnin joy, try Andrea Perry. She has been quietly producing inspiring music in her home studio in Austin TX, and she has the catchiest beats and phrases around. And no one digs a deeper groove than Mofro.

Read non-fiction? I once sent a note to Dan Coyle after reading a chapter in which he managed to metamorphose a car chase and a bank heist into a tale of accelerated learning and developing remarkable talent. Brilliant. And don’t get me started on Laura Hillenbrand. I just finished Unbroken and can’t shut up about how marvelous it is.

We have opinions. That’s ok. Just don’t let it kill your work. After I listen to Willy Porter, I get inspired and walk into the living room and pull out my guitar. Then I make some noise on the guitar, and sadly know that I’ll never sound like him. But again that’s half the point – only Willy Porter sounds like Willy Porter. You don’t need to sound like him. You only need to sound like an inspired version of you.

Years ago, for months I went out to the Portland Headlight with our dog, at dawn, at dusk, under blue skies, in the falling snow, when storms were looming, to take photographs of that beautiful lighthouse. Then one day someone said to me, “You know, that’s the most photographed lighthouse in the world.”

I almost quit the effort. And then I didn’t. I decided that of the millions of prints and postcards of the Portland Headlight, at the very least I would produce a signature image – something perhaps not iconic and sublime, but at least my own.

Here’s the thing: what often inspires us to paint, write, play, dance, or join the masters soccer team is that we know excellence. We recognize beauty and talent and art and skill when we see it. And then we have a go at it ourselves and find it intimidating. We decide we suck.

Remember these truths:

  • You will learn something. It’s impossible not to. You just decided to learn how to make crepes from scratch? Yes, they will probably be sad, tired crepes your kids won’t eat the first time, but you are guarenteed to learn something. You’ll wind up asking your friend the french chef or wandering through recipes on epicurious
  • You will get better. Well, you may actually get worse before you get better. It’s ok. It’s common. But you will improve. Incrementally, in fits and starts until you turn that killer riff into a full song, that idea into a full blown argument.
  • People are cheering for you. Really they are. People want you to succeed. Even that cantankerous curmudgeon in the IT department who ignores your pleas for help. When they took a chance, pitched a new idea and stood out on a ledge at the last department meeting, you were impressed.
  • People will jump in and help you. I have a friend who talked about creating a distillery. He decided to just get started – start creating what he dreamed of instead of talking about it. Then all kinds of people came out of the woodwork to help. What you chat about over the water cooler is valuable but it isn’t action. What you draw on the back of the napkin is interesting, but it isn’t compelling until you take hte lead – take the chance. And when you do, others see what you’re attempting and recognize intersections of where they can help.

Something interesting happens when you start by creating value and realizing your ideas. People show up, They show up with ideas, support, and energy because they sense something being realized and want to be a part of it, they want to help.

Show up every day, and never believe you are a genius. But do believe that every once in a while one might visit you and blow pixie dust on your work.

And no one says it better than Ira Glass

Connect with Purpose, and Connect with Results

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Here is a brief excerpt from OutThink on the power of integrating the human factor in our work. Enjoy!

TurnerThe profession of radiology has been progressing over the past fifty years in terms of how people are trained, the equipment and technology used, and immediacy of feedback.

Yet despite these advances, error rates often remain statistically significant and frustratingly high depending on the type of reading performed – bone density, chest radiographs, mammograms, gastrointestinal, and beyond. According to Imaging Economics, the reading error rate can vary from 2% to as high as 20%, depending on the scan, the clinician, the environment, and even the time of day. And up to eighty percent of the errors are perceptual errors. That is, the information was present and shown on the film or scan, but not identified and seen by the radiologist.

Yehonatan Turner, M.D., was a radiology resident at Shaare Zedek Medical Center in Jerusalem in 2008 when he decided to experiment with humanizing the process of reading radiology scans, to learn what affect it might have on the quality of the reading and the error rate of the clinicians. He and his colleagues performed an experiment in which they asked 267 patients for their permission to be photographed before their CT scans. A Computed Tomography scan is a more detailed X-Ray exam that focuses on a specific part of the body and yields a more detailed image of what’s inside the body.

Those 267 patient photos were submitted within a total of 1,137 CT examinations and would automatically be presented to the radiologist when evaluating the scan. Seventeen radiologists performed the readings and the results were quite surprising:
   • 80% of incidental findings were not reported when the photo was omitted with the scan
   • Radiologists reported a greater sense of empathy and care when evaluating the scan
   • Duration of scan evaluation did not increase

Anecdotal comments included, “The patient photograph prompted me to relate in more detail to the CT” and “It enabled me to feel more of a physician.”

In other words, accuracy went up, empathy went up, sense of connection with the patient went up, and there was no additional time required. Remember the end result – the purpose – and your impact will soar.

Endings are just new beginnings

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BRASIL X HOLANDA - COPA DO MUNDO 2010 ÁFRICA DO SUL - ESPORTES - 02/07/2010

“The real glory is being knocked to your knees and then coming back. That’s real glory. Thats the essence of it.”
― Vince Lombardi Jr.

“You guys were just great! Well done. You all played really well.”

No one said anything. Our ten-year old soccer team had just lost. We got crushed. Badly. I was the coach and trying to cheer up the boys.

Later while walking to car, my son Will said, “Dad, why did you say all that stuff about us after the game? We sucked!”

Praise and recognition is a tricky motivator. And when we have setbacks, praise rings hollow. It doesn’t sound believable and we often don’t feel like we deserve it. Specific feedback is better. Praising specific plays, moves, passes, shots, and attitudes is both more believable and memorable. And it’s even better when the praise is specific to the individual.

There are varieties of incentives we can use to motivate and encourage others, but as we know from research, it’s a sense of progress in meaningful work that is the strongest motivating factor around. And when things go well, things tend to go well. That is, wins beget wins. Naturally, when the team has a winning game in which they play well together against a fairly matched opponent, the team feels positive, acts more cooperatively, enjoys the game more, and plays with more assertive confidence and control.

But something interesting happens during setback events. Not only does the team act less supportive with one another, but they respond less to praise and recognition. They will also feel more restricted in their actions. Team members begin to develop a perception that they can’t (or aren’t permitted) to take risks, be assertive. Sure, sometimes we throw a hail mary pass or take desperate chances, but they aren’t often elegant and inspired chances. More often we retreat.

You’ve seen this before in sports. When one team starts losing, they play more defensively, more conservatively, and take fewer chances. And because of it, often start losing even more. The same is true in our work. In fact, we’ve learned that negative events and setbacks have a far bigger impact on our emotions, our perceptions, and then our actions in our work. As researcher Teresa Amabile found:

The effect of a setback event on happiness was over three times as strong as the effect of a progress event on happiness, and the effect of a setback event on frustration was almost twice as strong as that of a progress event on frustration.

Understand a setback for what it is. It’s just an event, a moment, an opportunity to learn. It doesn’t define you. What defines you is what you do next. Remember to celebrate endings, because they represent new beginnings.

When we leap

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leaping

Adversity causes some men to break; others to break records.
– William Arthur Ward

It’s an astonishing thing to observe people who encounter obstacle after hurtle after challenge, and yet seem to only gain strength and confidence and power after each, seemingly insurmountable, roadblock is set before them. There’s a great scene in the animated movie KungFu Panda II in which the bad guy – an evil peacock – laments, “How many times do I have to kill the same panda?!” because the Panda, of course keeps getting stronger throughout the movie, until the end in which he’s catching blazing cannonballs and throwing them back. All because he’s found inner peace.

Terry Fox was like that. He developed cancer in 1980, and while still in the hospital, decided to run across Canada to raise money and awareness for cancer research. We lost Terry to cancer but only after he had run a couple thousand miles across Canada…on a prosthetic leg. His mother Betty Fox kept Terry’s legacy and spirit alive for the last thirty years.

In the book Born to Run, we learn Scott Jurek had such an alchemy moment at the 2005 Badwater Ultramarathon. It’s a 135 mile ultramarathon. Run in Death Valley at temperatures typically approaching the mid-120s. After Scott collapsed after (only!) 55 miles in a ditch in 125 degree heat in a catatonic stupor, he laid in a bucket of ice and searched his mind for ten minutes. Then stood to run the next 80 miles in record time to win the race.

I’ve watched my mom, Bev Hunter, conjure resilience and calm in the storm of cancer. Harnessing the cumulative strengths of her community, her faith, her research-driven analytical mind, family, and joie de vivre, she has transmuted obstacle into power, challenge into growth, fatigue into enlightenment. Erik Weihenmayer uses that term Alchemist to describe just such people who turn adversity into strength, a challenge into innovation, a smack-down into power.

I certainly agree we have the ability to surprise ourselves. If you watch kids, they do it all the time while testing the boundaries of their own possibilities. And then they move on to the next challenge. We often reflect that what seemed daunting and impossible at the time, seems small, easy and controllable in retrospect.

But the key is to take the leap, sign up for that daunting project, or impossible race, or mythic challenge you might think is beyond you. Build those capacities, strengths and creative resources now, because you never know when the world is going to sign you up for something beyond your control.