Sully's Secret

“The Miracle on The Hudson” is one of the greatest stories of heroism in modern times.

On January 15, 2009, minutes after takeoff, a US Airways plane collided with a flock of geese, instantly shutting down both engines.

Chesley “Sully” Sullenberger, a pilot with more than 40 years of experience, realized he had only one option: he had to turn a 73-ton aircraft into a powerless glider above one of the most densely populated cities in the world. ?

Air traffic controllers proposed Teterboro as the closest airport for an emergency landing, but Sully immediately ruled it out. Not enough altitude, not enough time. Instead, he would attempt the unthinkable: a first-ever landing on the Hudson River.

?“This is your captain speaking," he told the 155 people on board. "Brace for impact.”

Moments later the plane narrowly missed a bridge before the passengers heard a thunderous clap of steel against water.

First there was silence. Then chaos. The river began to flood the fuselage, threatening to sink the aircraft. Passengers scrambled through the exit doors, desperately seeking refuge on the wings. They clung to the life rafts perched atop frigid wintry waters.

Amidst the turmoil, Sully walked the aisle, ensuring no one was left behind. Only when the plane was empty did he permit himself to step outside and ask for personal help.

Every traveller survived without a scratch.

There's an important detail in this story that is often overlooked. Experience alone doesn’t explain how Sully pulled off such a remarkable feat. It was his approach to experience.

In interviews after the event, he talked about his lifelong commitment to learning every time he sat in the cockpit. He described each flight as an opportunity to improve upon the previous one. He saw excellence as unreachable, but with each trip he tried to get slightly closer to it.

Adam Grant developed a similar philosophy from his early stint as an amateur diver. He internalized the habit of requesting a score after each dive, accruing hundreds of real-time learnings over the year. Experiencing the power of that high velocity feedback loop, he transferred the practice to his speaking career, and now he asks for a grade after every talk.

Moments of outstanding achievement typically conceal layers of such intentional learning. They are the culmination of hardscrabble devotion and methodical attention to detail.

Michelangelo had the most visual way of capturing this commitment to incremental progress: “I saw the angel in the marble, and I carved until I set her free."

99% of the time we’re in chiseling mode, and it’s motivating to remember the angel awaits.