Several years ago, I found myself working too many hours and serving too many clients. While I was making a good living, my quality of life wasn't great. I knew something needed to change, but could never find the extra motivation — or the time — to discover how to close the gap between where my practice was and where it needed to be.
Finally, I decided a bike ride would clear my head. But rather than take to a nearby trail or whirl around the block, instead I went on a 400-mile trek that took me through three states. For the most part, it was a peaceful and uneventful journey, but it didn't do much to solve my problem. Five days later on the way home, it happened.
As I turned left, facing into the sun, there was a bone-jarring impact, followed by a terrible thud. When I looked up, I saw a black Honda Accord. My bike handlebars were pointing in one direction and my front wheel was pointing in the other.
As I glanced back at the car, and through the sweat running down my face and the glare of the afternoon sun, I realized that no one had hit me. Instead, I had plowed into a parked car. It all took place within shouting distance of my house.
At that point, I took care of things with my neighbor (whose car I hit) and hobbled home, blood running down both of my legs. If ever there was a metaphor, that was it: I rode all that way and still fell short of my overarching goal. That was my business in a nutshell.
Change or Die
With that dose of perspective, I later came across "Change or Die," a book written by Alan Deutschman, who asks readers whether they could make a major change to prevent their death. It's unlikely, he says, unless three things are present: relationships, reframing and repeating.
All lasting change starts with a relationship. It may be a connection to a coach, a teacher, a love interest or a best friend. Or it could be a broader organization, like Alcoholics Anonymous, Weight Watchers or even the Christian faith.