Three months ago, I would have scoffed at the idea of renewing my lease and settling down into post-collegiate life in Madison.  Phase one of my Wisconsin exit strategy  was in full swing – I networked like a banshee at SXSW, contacted everyone from alumni to people my mom sends Christmas cards to, and was geared up to send out job applications en masse.  When I got a call to interview for a position here in Madison at Epic, I figured if anything, I should take the chance to sharpen my skills.  For once, I wasn’t a bundle of nerves during an interview, and things went surprisingly well.  In spite of that, I was still shocked when I got a call two weeks later offering me a position as a Recruiter.

That wasn’t part of The Plan.

For the better part of the last few years, I’ve been living only for the future.  Rarely have I done something spontaneously simply because it’s rewarding in and of itself – most everything has been a component of some overarching “bigger picture” that I’ve thoughtfully mapped out (and I did literally map it out as part of a long-term career path project for my capstone marketing course).  I somehow convinced myself that it wasn’t a big deal that I had no social life because I’d have one someday. I’d stick my neck out and try to make some new friends someday. I’d be happy…someday.

Here’s one thing you won’t learn in business school: there’s something wholly unsatisfying about living your life as though it’s a 5 year corporate strategy.  Maybe that strikes many of you as being obvious, but as someone who thrives in a structured environment, that realization hasn’t come to me overnight.  It’s easy to get sucked into the mentality that you’ll achieve that elusive sense of completion once you starting hitting the milestones of The Plan.  I hit the first milestone when I landed my gig at a marketing firm here; to put it bluntly, I didn’t feel fulfilled in the slightest.

So when I accepted my new job, I threw The Plan out the window.  To paraphrase Jason Fried, plans are irrelevant.  Externalities are a bitch.  You’ll run yourself ragged (and miss the bigger picture) if you always try to re-chart your course of action to accommodate for them.

The question I wish I had been asking myself throughout my job search is “What do I want to be TODAY?”  Many of us get so caught up in the throes of finding the elusive “perfect job” that we rarely pause to re-evaluate and expand our search to consider other options.  Had I stuck to the straight and narrow of my idealized career path, chances are I’d still be grinding away doing the same rather uninspiring work that I should have loved because I loved my major.  Yikes.

For the time being, the future I’m concerned with extends only as far as next weekend (don’t worry Mom, I’m still contributing to my 401(k)), and it’s liberating in a way I never expected.

Stop micromanaging your life and living for someday.  All the planning and foresight in the world is useless if it causes you to miss tremendous opportunities that are right in front of you.  Feeling directionless is terrifying, but so is being blind to a world of unconsidered possibilities.

I was thrilled to write a guest post for Samantha Karol’s Appreciation Revolution series over at her wonderful blog, Life is Like a Box of Chocolates.  I admire her mission to encourage us to think more about how and why we appreciate the people and things that make our lives truly meaningful.

To read my post about how true appreciation is completely lacking in self-interest, click here.  Be sure to check out the other great posts in her series!

A few weeks ago, the weekly #u30pro Twitter chat dealt with how to ask for help at work.  I doled out my two cents on the subject without a moment’s hesitation – I’ve never had a problem going to others for their advice when it comes to tackling issues of a non-personal nature.  Since that discussion, I’ve been thinking more about the importance of asking for help…not in the workplace, but in our every day lives.

It’s hard to believe it now, but I completely lost my sense of self during part of my last two years of college.  Feeling largely apathetic, I existed in a constant state of low-grade melancholy.  I retreated from the company of those who had been my closest friends and lost interest in the activities that had been my passions outside of school.  At one point,  I couldn’t even manage to sit down and read a book without feeling restless and distracted.  I did only what I had to do to succeed in school, and my social life went from thriving to virtually non-existent.

My family has a strong history of depression. Though the warning signs seemed obvious, I refused to acknowledge that it could be the culprit; I blamed it on stress, on disliking the alcohol-centric social environment at the UW, on the pressures of school…anything but *gasp* a mental illness.

A 2008 study by the American College Health Association found that 1 in 3 undergraduates had felt “so depressed it was difficult to function” at least once during the previous year.  By the time they reach age 24, 1 in 4 young adults will have experienced a depressive episode.  According to a 2005 study published in the Annals of Family Medicine, “depression during this critical period may increase the likelihood of substance abuse, impair work and relationship function, and negatively influence an individual’s subsequent development,” but “fewer than 20% of young adults with depression receive high-quality care.”

After months of existing as a mere shell of a human being, I knew I needed to ask for help.  I saw my doctor and discussed the changes in my affect.  He recommended that I see a therapist and consider taking an antidepressant (an idea I had previously been strongly opposed to).  I was tired of feeling so empty, and set up an appointment with a counselor through the university.  I came to terms with the fact that I truly needed some outside support; unfortunately, the same doesn’t hold true for many other young people.  In a study of nearly 11,000 16 to 29 year-olds who had positive screening results for depression, 26% stated they refused to accept the diagnosis.  The reasons for refusal?  Many disagreed with the idea that medications are effective in treating depression, while others admitted they would be embarrassed if their friends found out.

After a several weeks of therapy, self-reflection, and a low dose of an anti-depressant, I began emerging from the tunnel.  I started to reconnect with my friends and explained what I had been going through, and contrary to what I had been so convinced of, not a single one judged me or treated me any differently.  They simply said they had missed the “old Ellen” and were glad I had done what I needed to do.

They now know that if they’re ever struggling or need someone to talk to, they can rely on me.  I’ve been there, and I wouldn’t wish for anyone to tackle depression feeling alone and ashamed.

I’ve seen far too many 20-somethings try to drown their sorrows in a bottle of Grey Goose or a case of Beast Light…those who insist “everything is fine” but inevitably end up in tears after closing time is called.  While books like Prozac Nation stigmatize the use of antidepressants and claim we’re turning into a horde of pharmaceutically-numbed zombies, getting help for depression isn’t as simple as having a prescription filled.

Battling depression requires a willingness to acknowledge that you can’t continue to go on the way you have been.  Coming to terms with that, and realizing that it’s not a flaw or a poor reflection of you as a human being, is much easier said that done.  It simply is what it is; you do what you need to do to get back to the life you deserve to be living.

If you’re struggling with depression and you’re still in school, check out your university’s counseling services.  For those of you in the work force, see if your employer offers an Employee Assistance Programs that can provide some direction.  There’s absolutely nothing wrong with seeing a therapist; if anything, it speaks volumes about your determination to acknowledge your personal demons and banish them.  For some, it may be as simple as figuring out what triggers the onset of a depressive episode and developing some coping strategies (e.g., exercising regularly, getting enough sleep, etc.).  If you opt for medication as part of your treatment, it’s nothing to be embarrassed about.  You’re not alone. Don’t look to pills as a quick-fix – remember that they’re part of the process of getting well.

While we demand frank discussions about reproductive and sexual health, we largely ignore depression and the like because they hit too close to home.  It’s shameful that we’re perfectly comfortable discussing the anatomical features of Lady Gaga but would rather eat lead paint chips than acknowledge any kind of personal mental health issue.

Mental health is our generation’s elephant in the room.  It’s time we stop ignoring it.

Given the abandon with which I jumped into the blogging world, you might be surprised to find that the lag time between buying my domain name and publishing my first post was 5 months…and the blog itself was in idea-gestation phase for nearly a year before I claimed my online space.  By some stroke of dumb luck, I discovered Scott Bishop’s 28 Day Challenge on the same day I authored my first post.  Without giving it a second thought, I got on board and faithfully rolled out a post a day for the month of February.  I had committed, and not posting was not an option.

My posting has fallen off as of late, and it’s not because writing hasn’t been on my mind.  It has been – I can’t tell you how many articles and informative tidbits I’ve bookmarked as blog fodder.  The problem?  Analysis paralysis.  I’ve been “what-ifing” myself to death, leaping from one idea to the next, writing bits and pieces without committing to any idea long enough to fully develop it.  It feels like I’m accomplishing something (and there’s nothing wrong with brainstorming), but staying in this ideation mode is slowly destroying my capacity to create.  Contrary to popular belief, having more options is not always beneficial to one’s decision-making.

Dr. Sheena Iyengar, a management professor at Columbia University, demonstrated the pitfalls of having an abundance of options in her infamous jam study.  The study “showed that when shoppers are given the option of choosing among smaller and larger assortments of jam, they show more interest in the larger assortment. But when it comes time to pick just one, they’re 10 times more likely to make a purchase if they choose among six rather than among 24 flavors of jam.”

To further demonstrate the more serious implications of having too many options, Iyengar studied more than 800,000 employees’ participation in their employer-sponsored 401(k) plans.   She found that “When given two choices, 75 percent [of employees] participated, but when given 59 choices, only 60 percent did. In addition, the greater the number of options, the more cautious people were with their investment strategies.”

That’s the terrible thing about staying in “what-if” mode – the more options you develop for yourself, the harder it is to actually turn those thoughts into tangible actions.

How do you defeat analysis paralysis?  I’ve found that making one seemingly insignificant decision can trigger a waterfall effect that spills over into other areas of your life.  I’d been hemming and hawing about changing my hairstyle, and I finally did.  In a big way.  Freshly cut and newly blond, I felt empowered by the results of my decision.  I went home, waded through my bookmarks, and decided on a list of topics I’ll write about in the upcoming month.  I stopped thinking about rearranging my living room and finally getting my spare bedroom in order and actually did it.

Sometimes, the only way to move forward is to brashly take a healthy number of options off the table.  In his brilliant The Art of War, Sun Tzu advises “At the critical moment, the leader of an army acts like one who has climbed up a height and then kicks away the ladder behind him…He burns his boats and breaks his cooking-pots; like a shepherd driving a flock of sheep, he drives his men this way and that, and nothing knows whither he is going.”

Take a stand.  Make a decision and move forward.  What-ifing keeps you in a safe zone – one in which you never stick your neck out and allow the could-happens to come to fruition.  It’s like bowling with bumpers – easy and risk-free, but without copious amounts of alcohol, ultimately unsatisfying.

At this time last year, I was a month away from graduating and should have felt on top of the world.  In reality, I was terribly lonely, unhappy, and scared out of my wits about the future…and I’d fallen out of touch with everyone who could relate to what I was experiencing.  I had managed to completely tie my sense of self-worth to leaving college with a full-time job offer, and had put all of my relationships on the back-burner.  When that didn’t pan out the way I’d planned, I was crushed.

Fast-forward to now: my mom is no longer the only person to call me on a regular basis.  I’ve reconnected with the friends who bring out the best in me and make me grateful to be alive.  I’ve branched out, taken risks I’d never imagined actually taking, and have met some wonderful new friends along the way.  And, lo and behold, I’m starting a new full-time job in May.

The one factor responsible for my turn-around?

Trust.  Trust in myself, and in others.

According to psychoanalyst Erik Erikson, our disposition to trust (or mistrust) others is formulated during the first 18 months of our life.  His theory holds that “If we pass successfully through this period of life, we will learn to trust that life is basically okay and have basic confidence in the future. If we fail to experience trust and are constantly frustrated because our needs are not met, we may end up with a deep-seated feeling of worthlessness and a mistrust of the world in general.”

While this stage of our development may create a filter through which all of our subsequent experiences pass, it does not damn us to a life of foolishly trusting others or keeping them needlessly at bay.  We just need to keep this predisposition in mind as we evaluate our relationships with others.

Trusting others had come easily and naturally for me until an awful party during the middle of my collegiate experience.  After that night, I began attributing the trust-destroying acts of others to some inherent flaw in myself, and questioned my ability to judge the trustworthiness of others.  Eventually, I became so focused on removing the potential for future hurt and disappointment that my mistrust prevented me not only from reconnecting with the people I sorely missed (and still trusted), but also from forming new relationships.

Knowing that I had gotten myself into this situation, I finally stopped waiting for everyone else to reach out to me.

It’s frightening to re-establish the lines of communication with friends you’ve been out of touch with – especially if, like me, your tendency toward isolation in the face of challenging circumstances caused the schism in the relationship to begin with.  Reconnecting with these individuals gave me the courage to reach out and begin to establish new friendships, which could flourish should I continue to allow myself to trust.

This hasn’t happened over night, nor has it been easy, but when I think that I might have missed out so many fulfilling relationships because of the painful actions of a few, the hurt pales in comparison to the joys that have come as a direct result of trusting others.

Find a balance (though it’s easier said than done).  You don’t need expose your deepest vulnerabilities to every person you meet – remember there is such a thing as TMI.  But, if the barrier you’ve erected makes the Berlin Wall seem like a picket fence, perhaps you need to reevaluate the mental fortifications you’ve made over the years.  Detachment as a defense mechanism is a recipe for unhappiness.

“We’re never so vulnerable than when we trust someone—but paradoxically, if we cannot trust, neither can we find love or joy.” – Walter Anderson

Do you bestow a certain implicit level of trust to new people in your life, or do you expect them to start at zero and prove their trustworthiness over time?

I’m no stranger to the old adage “opposites attract” – looking back on some of my past relationships leaves me wondering exactly how I ever managed to date someone so dissimilar from myself.  There’s a certain novelty to being in a relationship with someone who challenges your status quo, and sometimes, finding a yin to your yang really can balance you out.

While some differences can be worked through – religion, political beliefs, cultural norms – some are deal breakers, and in my experience, being in college can delay their appearance.  One that is all too easily masked until you’re in the real world is personal initiative (or self-motivation, if you like).

It may initially sound counter-intuitive, but college provides a series of already-defined tasks that don’t necessarily require a tremendous level of personal initiative to progress through.  But, what happens when that system is no longer in place, and you (and your partner) are left to your own devices to determine what comes next?  What happens when you’re dedicating yourself to preparing for a successful career and your partner decides to postpone the job hunt, and suddenly displays a completely indifferent attitude toward beginning the post-collegiate life?

Well, if you’re anything like me, you assume that should you lend some support and encouragement, your somewhat overdeveloped sense of personal initiative will be catching.

In all likelihood, you will be wrong…and one of two things will happen:

1.  You will smother and alienate your partner with unwanted information. Erika Lawrence, an associate professor of psychology in the UI College of Liberal Arts and Sciences, recently conducted research regarding the support couples give one another.  She found that “too much informational support — usually in the form of unwanted advice-giving — is the most detrimental” to a relationship – more so than not providing enough support.  When you bombard your significant other with job postings or suggestions as to things he or she could do to “step up” an area of their life that is lacking in your opinion, you’re not doing anyone any favors…yourself included.

2.  You will enable your partner to become dependent on you as an external source of motivation…which is fine, until you decide to stop being a full-time cheerleader and to invest that energy elsewhere.  Psychology Today’s Jeremy Sherman recently pointed out that unlike humans, other mammals don’t require an external source of Vitamin C.  Apparently, we have the genes required to self-produce Vitamin C, but they’re “damaged beyond functionality.”   As our ancestors incorporated fruit into their diets (and in the process got Vitamin C), the dual sources of the vitamin resulted in what is coined “lazy gene theory.”  Once fruit was readily available, our Vitamin C genes “had no effect on survival” and “just accumulated errors until they didn’t work…And now we’re addicted to this external source of C. Our dependency on it constrains and shapes our behavior.”

If their personal initiative was never there to begin with, what happens when you stop bending over backward and accept that it’s not your responsibility?  If your over-involvement hasn’t already resulted in your partner’s resentment, you’ll begin to resent having to pony up motivation for two.

My (slightly embarrassing) case in point: I briefly dated a home-schooled, Frisbee-golfing waiter who worked at a Thai restaurant and was raised on a miniature donkey farm.  He had no desire to go to college and completely lacked a direction in life – something that didn’t bother him in the slightest (and drove me up a wall).   While it was thankfully a short-lived relationship, had I considered the fundamental difference in our ambitions and levels of self-motivation, I wouldn’t have given him the time of day.

Zero personal initiative combined with excessive personal initiative doesn’t “average out.”

Since I’ve been living sans-roommate, I’ve become more cognizant of how the moods of those around me impact my own mood.  Not every day as Ellen is a beautiful-day-in-the-neighborhood kind of day, but by and large, I try my best to focus on the positive and roll with the punches.

I’m an ENFJ – and a self-professed care taker.  When I see others in situations that are making them unhappy, I feel obligated to do whatever I can to help…even when it has detrimental effects on my own well-being.  After making a conscious effort to be in the company of upbeat, funny, and generally happy people the past few weeks, I’ve been thinking a lot about the true importance of the people I choose to spend my time with.

The moods of others (and their subsequent impact) can have lasting implications in our own lives.

In their book The How of Happiness, Ken Sheldon, David Schkade, and Sonja Lyubomirsky theorize that genetics determines roughly 50% of an individual’s happiness, while another 10% is attributable to our circumstances (e.g., wealth, health, marital status).  The remaining 40% is “within our power to change.”

UC San Diego professor James Fowler and Dr. Nicholas Christakis of Harvard Medical School studied the power of our real-life social networks, and found that your friend’s friend’s friend (that’s 3 degrees of separation) can influence both your emotional and physical states.  The two researchers found that “each happy friend increases your own chance of being happy by 9 percent, whereas each unhappy friend decreases it by 7 percent.”  How many 7% decreases can we afford to have if less than half of our happiness is within our realm of control?

Of course, you could argue that by being exposed to your happiness, your friend’s mood is likely to improve – but there’s a difference between someone who is having a rough day and a friend who will, without fail, reject any suggestion you make that could lead to a change for the better because it’s easier to continue to wallow in self-pity.  Time will show that friends like these are emotional black holes – regardless of the effort and energy you expend trying to cheer them up, they’ll turn any semblance of positivity into gloom and doom.

Now, onto raincloud number 2: the frenemy.

You’re gearing up for a meeting, or drafting an important e-mail, and happen to check your Facebook stream for updates.  Much to your dismay, one of your less-than-kindred contacts has posted an update that, for one reason or another, gets under your skin.  It’s embarrassing to admit that such a small thing aggravates us, but it’s true – I’m regrettably familiar with hypertension-inducing wall posts.  In a nutshell, they’re irritating.

As Dan Ariely and Eduardo Andrade confirmed in their research, when we’re in an irritated, we’re more likely to make irrational decisions.  This finding may not come as much of a surprise….but when we’re faced with a similar situation in the future, our propensity to make the same irrational decision is heightened – even if we’re no longer in an irritated mood.  Our irrational decision becomes “part of the blueprint for… future decisions;” what our brain considers to be the “way to act.”

Ariely writes, “When we confront a situation, our mind looks for a precedent among past actions without regard to whether a decision was made in emotional or unemotional circumstances. Which means we end up repeating our mistakes, even after we’ve cooled off.”

Is it worth botching an important decision in not just this meeting, but the next, because you’ve voluntarily exposed yourself to someone who can so easily manipulate your mood (as they’ve proved to do time and time again)?  If a single status update can throw your whole day into a tailspin, your next course of action should be obvious:

Account > Privacy Settings > Block List

Voila!  Irritating acquaintances aren’t as easy to deal with in the real world, but if you routinely spend a lot of time with individuals who make you feel like pulling your hair out, you must enjoy pain on some level.

As for me…well, going into my 24th year, I’m resolving to try to do my best to represent one of those 15% bumps in the likelihood that my close friends are happy…even if that means distancing myself from others.

This past week has been full of firsts.

I just got back from my first SXSW, which, along with being the first career-related conference I’ve ever been to, was my first time traveling alone.  It was also the first time I fully realized that, like so many of my good friends and peers, I’m plagued by the Impostor Syndrome.

The Impostor Syndrome was first identified in the research of psychotherapists Pauline Clance and Suzanne Imes in 1978.  Their work showed that “many women with notable achievements also had high levels of self-doubt.  This deep lack of confidence – which couldn’t be equated with anxiety or other disorders – appeared to involve a deep sense of inauthenticity…these individuals often believe they are ‘fooling’ other people, ‘faking it’ or getting by because they have the right contacts or are just plain lucky.”

One of my dearest friends was just offered a great position with Amazon.com.  When she told me she was going to be interviewing out in Seattle, there wasn’t a doubt in my mind that she’d blow them away.  She launched her career by taking an opportunity at a fashion startup and making herself indispensible – she taught herself to code on the job and forged her own niche in the company.  In spite of her tremendous success, she felt undeserving of the position.

I never understood how such a beautiful and accomplished woman could be so hesitant to embrace and espouse her own talents – to own up to her successes and not minimize her accomplishments – until I realized I was doing the same thing.

According to public speaker and consultant Valerie Young, Impostor Syndrome can prevent sufferers “from fully enjoying their success and seizing opportunities, and can cause them to overwork to compensate for supposed deficiencies…Internalizing these beliefs, rather than discussing them can lead to other emotional issues, including depression and low self-esteem. Over time, harbored Impostor Syndrome can make it difficult to accept praise for any level of accomplishment.”

Young identifies three elements at the heart of Impostor Syndrome:

1. A complex view of success
2. A warped definition of competence
3. The way we respond to failure

At SXSW, it’s easy to feel unsuccessful when it seems as though everyone around you is working for an up-and-coming start-up or an agency that wields tremendous clout, and within a few hours of my arrival, the Impostor Syndrome had reared its ugly head. I began feeling like I had no right to be there, and that I had tricked myself into thinking I would “fit in” in the company of so many intelligent, motivated, and creative people.

After awhile, I realized that the vast majority of the attendees weren’t in their early 20s, and were there on behalf of their employer.  I was the exception to both of the rules, but in no way did that speak less of me.  It was easy for me to talk about nearly anything with them – and after successfully holding down my end of a conversation with Dan Ariely, I focused less on titles and agencies and more on the people themselves.

I also felt out of the loop (and thus inadequate) when my peers were name-dropping and discussing the merits of one tech blogger compared to another…which made it easy for me to fall into the second trap of the impostor syndrome: evaluating my competence and skills based something completely off-base; in this case, my name-dropping skills.  Paris Hilton can probably list off who’s who in the film industry, but that doesn’t mean she’s really an actress.  I reminded myself that competence isn’t contingent on one’s ability to keep up with casual industry banter, but rather, on successfully employing the skills and tools that drive the industry.

I went to SXSW because I’m passionate about what it is that I do; I wanted to seize the opportunity to learn from thought-leaders and connect with peers who have a similar inclination to be successful and stay on the cutting edge of an ever-evolving field.

Anyone who allows themselves to feel like an impostor in that situation is simply committing self-sabotage.

So, instead of damning myself to continue to feel discouraged, incompetent, or like a fraud, I readily admitted to not knowing Mark Cuban from Clay Shirky.  I owned the feeling that I was a bit overwhelmed, ridiculously excited, and completely out of my comfort zone.  And once I did so, I came into my own and had one of the best trips of my life.

Failing to acknowledge our own humanity — our insecurities as well as our talents and abilities — is the ultimate impostor act.

Shaun White is the name and face of snowboarding.  If anyone doubted his status as a legend-in-the-making, he put those thoughts to rest with last week’s gold medal winning run in Vancouver.  He is to the sport what Gretzky is to hockey, or Jordan is to basketball.  They are larger than life, and you need no knowledge of or interest in their respective sport to know who they are and what they stand for: dedication, determination, and greatness.  Another individual embodying these qualities, Abe Lincoln, was and is arguably the greatest president in U.S. History.

Aside from capturing the imaginations of thousands of Americans and forever securing their place in our nation’s lore, White and Lincoln have something else in common.

When preparing for battle, they isolate themselves from the rest of the world.  And, what emerges from their isolation makes history.

Lincoln sought refuge from the most troubling and tumultuous times of his presidency at Soldier’s Home.  By removing himself from the immediate political pressures of Washington, he was able to lose himself in his work (he wrote the second draft of the Emancipation Proclamation here).

According to the program administrator of President Lincoln’s College, Lincoln also “used his time at Soldier’s Home to ready the political machine for the upcoming election in 1864.”  Though he was in isolation, thoughts of his opposition were never far from his mind.  Lincoln actually used the retreat to hold clandestine meetings with notorious leaders of the other side, and constantly gauged the political and military landscape in which he was operating.

Similarly, White sought solitude in preparing for his trip to the Olympics on a personal 550-foot halfpipe in the back country of Copper Mountain, Colorado.  Built for him by his sponsor Red Bull and accessible only by snowmobile or helicopter, White was able to train without worrying his tricks would be instantly mimicked by his competition.  He could count on his friends and coaches to keep an eye on the playing field while he threw himself into attempting tricks never before seen every day for nearly two months.

In his interview with CBS’s 60 Minutes, White explained his decision to train in solitude saying “Ya know, it’s just a really competitive sport and to…show up and do something new that’s kinda, gonna blow some people away would be really nice.”

While Lincoln’s self-imposed isolation seems understandable given the enormous challenges he faced, I’m intrigued by White’s decision to retreat from the spotlight (and yes, I’m aware that a Double McTwist is hardly a matter of national importance).  Their temperaments couldn’t be more different; Lincoln’s brooding melancholy seems a stark contrast to White’s unbridled enthusiasm.  And, while it might make sense to train alone given the individual nature of snowboarding, many individual athletes train in teams (i.e. Lance Armstrong).  But, I suppose when you’re already the best the world has ever seen, only you can push yourself to elevate your game.

When setting out to do something that you’ve never done before, do you benefit more from having a group of people to surround and encourage you?  Or do you do your best work in an isolated environment, where you can single-mindedly pursue the challenge at hand?

I don’t know when or why I became so fearful.

Of meeting new people.  Getting out of my comfort zone.  Feeling vulnerable.

I used to relish the chance to do the unexpected and experience the unfamiliar.

I was the only girl from my high school to come to college at UW-Madison.  I knew two people here, and I couldn’t have been more excited.

I only knew one other person when I signed up to go to Breckenridge, Colorado with the university’s ski and snowboard club.  She proceeded to break her arm, leaving me rooming with 7 other people I’d never met.

It was one of the best weeks of my life.

Four of my roommates had been in Colorado for a week already, so I didn’t have a chance to meet them on the bus ride out.  I walked into the room I’d claimed for myself to find one of them unpacking his stuff.  “Hi. I’m Josh. Which side is yours?” (The room had one bed.)  Uhm, well hello, nice to meet you too.

Josh and his friends were adrenaline junkies who didn’t think twice about tackling a tree-filled run at breakneck speeds or hitting the back bowls.  We’re talking stuff that was completely out of my comfort zone.  The “black diamond” trails I’d learned on in Wisconsin were glorified bunny hills when compared to even the intermediate runs out west.

So, naturally, when they asked me to hit up the Imperial Summit Bowl on my second day there, I jumped at the chance. (Ok, I might have had just a teensy bit of ulterior motivation; a girl who happened to be into the guy I had my eye on was going, and I didn’t want to be shown up.)

The Imperial Express SuperChair is the highest chair lift in North America, and had just opened a few weeks before our trip.  As we made our way to the base of the lift, I was fine – gleeful, actually.  Then we started our ascent, and I realized just how steep this run was, and how far out of my league I was about to go.

When we got to the summit, I was ready to park my butt on my board and toboggan my way down the hill.  There was no way I was going to make it down.

The guys strapped in, and I followed suite.  Was I actually going to do this?

Josh looked at me, grinned, and yelled “BALLS TO THE WALL!!!” before bombing down the hill.

So I went for it, and made it all of 30 feet before I ate it.  Hard.  But I got up and kept going.

I fell on my ass more than I ever have in my life, and I was pretty sure that if I didn’t break my neck, I would at least lose a few teeth.  But I made it to the bottom, board in one piece, with a full set of chompers.

For a seasoned pro, my “run” of the Imperial Bowl would be laughable.  It was far from graceful, and my technique was atrocious.

But pushing myself beyond my comfort zone felt like a tremendous success in and of itself.  It’s because of that one run that I started doing the runs that enabled me to finish the trip twice the snowboarder I was when I arrived.

Success isn’t black and white; there are shades of grey.

Sometimes, it’s in the in-betweens that we truly grow.