A Dangerous Jump

As I laid under the bed, nearly paralyzed from a combination of fear and a broken bone, I listened to the whirring of the helicopters overhead and thought “how did this happen?” Let me back up and tell you how, in fact, it did happen.?

After my freshman year of college, I spent the summer as a camp counselor in Durango, Colorado. Working in the clean mountain air with my friends, I spent my days guiding overnight hiking trips, cooking for 300 kids, and hoping I never had to return to school. On one of my best friends’ birthdays, we decided to gather a group to take the night off and celebrate. Driving down mountainous back roads, we came upon a bridge, over 45-feet-high, above a rushing creek. With a unanimous thirst for adrenaline, we agreed the only option was to stop and jump.??

After a few of my friends had successfully jumped off and swam to shore, it was my turn. Too proud to show fear, I calmly straddled over the dividers on the edge of the bridge, gave a hearty smile to those behind me, and leapt. Cold. All I felt was cold. And then pressure, coming from different angles, pushing me away from the rock walls. ?

As?I limply crawled out of the freezing water (a product of mountain ice runoff), I immediately knew something was wrong. I could barely use my legs without fire shooting up my spine. Not one to show pain when I’m hurt, I half-jokingly announced with a smile that I’d broken my tailbone and would require escorts to carry me for the rest of the night (they obliged).?Despite my attempts to downplay the situation, I knew I wasn't joking. ?

It wasn’t until a few weeks later that I could finally figure out what was going on with my south pole. On?family vacation in the Adirondacks, I found myself getting X-rays on my tailbone. While I waited, the news station on the hospital tv warned of a jailbreak at the maximum-security prison just outside of town. I thought little of it then, but I now look back as if an unseen author foreshadowed the next page.?

Because of my broken tailbone, I was condemned to lay on the couch at my family’s water-access-only lake house. While they spent the days wakeboarding, I watched Netflix with a grimace. Alone in the house, I was interrupted one afternoon by tv static that erupted with a robotic PSA shouting “Warning! You are in an unsafe area. Armed convicts are suspected to be nearby. Please take shelter.” I had been casually keeping up with the escapades of the escaped convicts through the continuous headlines and knew they had ransacked another cabin in the woods, shooting the owner. I also saw that they’d been added to the national “Most Wanted” list. ?

Terrified, I hobbled to a nearby bed and waited as I listened to the helicopters overhead. I texted my family frantically, but I knew their spotty cell service meant I was truly alone. After what felt like hours but was really about 30 minutes, the helicopters faded, and I emerged from my hiding spot. A few hours later, I saw a relieving headline: the convicts had been captured. They were about 15 miles from our cabin. ??

The lessons I learned through this bizarre and hilarious memory have applications far beyond water-related injuries. My first take-away??It’s worth pausing to weigh risk and reward before making an irrevocable decision. Once I jumped off the bridge, there was no going back. Had I considered the potential for injury, I would have known that five seconds of fun wasn’t worth a lifetime of back issues. ?

My second but equally important lesson was?that some events are truly unforeseeable, like a violent jailbreak. Like we saw on the global stage during COVID, you can’t plan for everything and must make decisions with the available information.?

You may be facing an initiative that feels like jumping off a bridge into the gnarling water below. Before you take the plunge, let my very tangible story remind you of the importance of calculated risk. Separate fear from danger by taking an honest risk assessment, keeping in mind that there will be unanticipated outcomes. Weighing risk/reward will allow you to distinguish what may seem scary but is not dangerous (like fear of public speaking or birds) from what is a real threat but doesn’t incite fear or even thought (like odorless and fatal carbon monoxide).?More than fear, let logic guide your sense of safety.?

Calculated risks are necessary, but they are rarely a yes/no binary. Consider preliminary explorations like prototyping, A/B testing, and ROI projections to help you determine the best use of your resources. Your future self will thank you.?

Want a second opinion before you take the leap? Message me on LinkedIn or reach out to InfoWorks here, and I’ll happily connect you with a consultant to talk more about our approach to risk assessments and strategy. ?

As always, thank you for taking the time to read. I hope you have a great week!?

Alexis?