I struggle to remember the pain of the push to the summit, but I’ll never forget the joy of the moment at the top. Monarch Pass is 11,312’ above sea level and sits on the continental divide in the Colorado Rockies. It was the fall of 2014, and we ran one American flag across the country from the Golden Gate Bridge to Walter Reed Hospital in Bethesda, MD. We started the 3,600-mile trek on 9/11 and ended it on Veterans Day, 11/11. The Old Glory Relay was an ambitious bid from the start, and the obstacle the Rockies presented was a concern from the initial planning.
By the time the flag got to Colorado, it had already ground through the heat of the Nevada desert, the dust of America’s loneliest road, record heat in Sacramento, and a string of challenges - teams showing up late, teams showing up light, and teams not showing up at all! But Team RWB drove on to the objective and handed over Old Glory to a team of Rangers in Colorado. Now, I’m a bit partial on the matter, but if you’re going to take a hill, you call the Rangers!
On most days of the relay, we covered about 60 miles. This day–summit day–we covered 20. Twenty miles east and 3,000 feet up! We had an incredible team–a wrecking crew of Rangers, an ultra-running champion, veterans, friends, and family–and we took the hill together.
Slogging up the mountain was a fight for altitude, one-quarter mile at a time. We trailed the flag runner with two support vans, one with teammates hanging out the open door, ready to sub out and take the flag, the other collecting exhausted runners as they made the handoff. These athletes typically took down miles at a time, but this day, we took tenth of a mile chunks at worst, quarter miles at best. We leap-frogged vans, replacing tired runners with semi-fresh teammates while rehydrating and reloading calories to drive on.
Some doubled over and heaved while smiling and looking to the summit, relishing the challenge and feeling truly alive in the struggle. It was beautiful. And when we crested the hill, the shared sense of accomplishment and relief exploded into elation. We had made the summit. Hugs and high-fives were aplenty. Beers were cracked. Toasts were made. And we marked the moment. We marked the moment with our stories of one another on the climb. We recalled moments where one stumbled, and the other picked them up. We recalled the funny moments - awkward handoffs, botched van dismounts, and emergency bathroom breaks!
And we recalled the meaningful moments that carried us to the top when we thought we had run out of gas, like the two Rangers who met on the trail and hadn’t seen one another since they both jumped into Panama during Operation Just Cause in 1989. Lou was mortally wounded by the enemy on the drop zone, but Antonio (”Doc”) kept him alive. And there they were, side by side with Old Glory some thirty years later—a testament to perseverance and grit.
Marking that moment mattered. Marking our mountaintop moments always matters. And it doesn’t take running up the Continental Divide to necessitate them. We summit mountaintops in business and life all the time - a project that launched on time or before the deadline, a new customer sale, a service call that went longer than expected but didn't end until the customer was delighted, or making the Circle of Excellence for top sales performance. These and many other examples can be mountaintop moments if we recognize them for what they are and mark them accordingly.
I was reminded of this last week while Blayne and I reviewed our 2023 performance. We had another smashing year - 63% growth, plussing up the team with talent, and having a blast with leaders we care about doing big things in the world. And how did we celebrate this? How did we mark the mountaintop moment? We didn’t. We refreshed and reloaded over the holidays and got right back on the trail, hitting two big National Sales Meetings and turning in our book manuscript.
I am reminded of one of the leaders we serve perfect words about celebrating accomplishments: “I always considered myself a mountaintop jumper going from one goal to another, but I recognize that I need to pause and celebrate those moments before looking towards the next challenge.” And I am convicted to take her words to heart and celebrate right along with her. It’s time to mark this mountaintop moment before reorienting towards the next goal and moving out to achieve it. This mountaintop, and in fact all mountaintops, are cause for pause and celebration.
We owe it to ourselves, our team, and our community. It’s a time to reflect upon the long nights and late flights that got us here. A time to remember the challenging presentations and big wins. A time to recall the tough decisions that got us here and the people who carried us when we needed help. Because if we don’t, what was it all for? What is it all for if not for making the world a little better than before by doing hard things with people we care about?
As I write this today, I know we have done that. I know we’ve made a difference in others' lives and that our success reflects their successes. I can see it on my LinkedIn feed with so many colleagues celebrating their mountaintop moments, and we are committed to joining you. We’ve earned it. We’ll mark it.
More to follow on this later. Hold us accountable.
