The picture above is of the Atlantic Ocean in South Florida. Notable because I took the picture, dropped my phone, shirt and shoes, and just jumped right into it at that exact spot. Also notable because I can’t really swim.

Let me back up.

I live in landlocked Colorado. But, as part of being a citizen of Colorado you pretty much have to do something outside half your life. I trail run. Most of my trail running friends don’t stop there, though, they bike and swim and call it a triathlon or some nonsense of the sorts and then tell me I must do it. I mention I don’t really swim and they try to convince me they can teach me. At rare times I begrudgingly acquiesce, and it all goes south from there. I’m in a pool, they are frustrated, I am frustrated, and sooner or later I am back in the mountains running. That is my comfort zone. Give me a bear on my trail in the mountains — there is zero trepidation; it is as natural to me as it gets. Put me near a shallow water pool and my heart races.

Which brings me back to the ocean. If you are from a mountainous state, and you do not swim, there isn’t much more intimidating than that. If you can get past the notion of getting sucked out to sea, which was deeply open my mind at 6:00 AM on the nose as I headed down to the beach, there’s also the fact that there are things below you lurking that you can’t see. That freaks me the heck out. Maybe a jelly-fish. Maybe a shark. Maybe a Merman like of from Cabin in the Woods? Who is to say, again you can’t see a thing. It is horrifying.

So why did I do it? Why did I take that plunge? It has to do with comfort zones and getting older. The older we get, the more habituated we become. The more set in our ways — it is a very real phenomenon. Which has me backing up again, to just a week ago. I did something else out of my comfort zone — I talked well into the night with my COO who is in her 20s; chatting about life and goals and challenges and getting to know each other better as people rather than colleagues. I’m not much one for staying up late, or divulging personal information to all but a very small inner circle. But I am very glad I did it. We opened up and got to know each other much better. On the cab ride home she mentioned I was a “particular person,” not in a negative way, just as a fact of life.



Which is the real point of this blog. One way or the other, we all trend toward becoming particular people as we get older. If it hasn’t happened to you yet, it almost certainly will. We know what we think we like and we gravitate toward that time and time again. I think I like trail running in the mountains. I thought I didn’t like the cold, dark, foreboding ocean.

But the water wasn’t really that cold. Nothing reached up from the depth and grabbed me. Most notably, I made it back to shore, albeit flopping all the way. And it felt amazing. The same endorphin rush I get from running but better — because this was new to me.



If you are set in your ways, if you are getting older and find yourself becoming a particular person, I just have this experience to relay. Getting out of my comfort zone wasn’t so bad after all. In fact, for me this morning at least, it was particularly spectacular. I am better and more confident in myself for having done it. And I really hope I keep doing stuff like this again.