As I wrap up this year’s sabbatical, spent training and racing with the Rocky Mountain Masters, a few lessons stand out.
There’s a moment on steep terrain when everything in your body tells you to pull back.
Your brain gets loud. It wants safety. It wants control. It wants to slow everything down. And on skis, that instinct shows up in a familiar way: you end up in the backseat.
It feels protective—but it’s not.
In ski racing, being in the back seat is where you lose control. Your skis start to run away from you, your edges disengage, and the very thing you were trying to avoid becomes more likely.
During one of my first training sessions after ACL reconstruction, my coach reminded me of the paradox: control doesn’t come from pulling back. It comes from doing the opposite.
You have to lean in.
Forward. Down the hill. Onto your outside edge.
It’s counterintuitive, especially when the pitch is steep, and the consequences feel high. But over time, I’ve learned (and am still learning) that the only way to carve a clean, controlled line is to trust the edges and commit to them—fully.
That lesson doesn’t stay on the mountain.
In work and in life, we face our own versions of steep terrain—uncertainty, visibility, tough conversations, and new challenges that challenge our confidence and competence. And just like on skis, our instinct is often to retreat. To hold back. To play it safe. To stay in the backseat.
But that’s where we lose our effectiveness.
Leadership, growth, and even personal fulfillment require something different. They ask us to lean forward when it would be easier to hold back. To engage when we’d rather withdraw. To commit when we’d prefer to keep our options open.
Your edges might be:
- Saying what needs to be said
- Taking on something that feels just beyond your reach
- Choosing growth over comfort, even when the outcome isn’t guaranteed
It will feel uncomfortable. It should, as my coaches remind me—if it feels comfortable, you probably aren’t learning or trying anything new.
Because just like skiing steep terrain, fear isn’t a signal to retreat—it’s a signal that you’re on terrain that matters.
Backing off won’t get you where you want to go.
Paying attention and leaning in will.
So the next time you feel yourself slipping into the backseat—in your work, your relationships, or your own aspirations—pause and ask:
Where are my edges?
And what would it look like to trust them?