Want to improve your start-up mindset? Take to the Alps!

Running a start up business is a lot like a cycling tour of the Alps … from a distance it seems exciting and glamorous, full of rewards. In reality, it’s a tough, uphill slog most of the way. Even the downhill sections are less fun than they look – sure you are travelling at high speed with the wind in your hair, but do you still have control? What if you hit a pothole? I am three years into my journey running a sustainable sportswear start-up and a few months back, I managed to dovetail a business trip with a week of summer cycling in the Alps with a couple of mates.

Here’s what I took away from the experience:

From above, Geneva is the perfect gateway to the Alps with a broad brushstroke view of emerald green fields, snow capped mountains and narrow roads snaking their way upward. As the plane comes in to land, I imagine myself cycling along those winding roads, some so steep they double back on themselves. In all the stress and chaos of the initial years of Kusaga Athletic, I have desperately tried to preserve this special tradition, and here I am again, only this time I have to admit, I am exhausted, unfit and not at all prepared for the gruelling week ahead – and that’s just the food and wine. The cycling is going to hurt, big time.

At the base of the first mountain—or col in local language—just making it to the top is the initial goal. It takes a fairly high degree of mental preparation to ready myself and cycling along the road leading to the mountain fills me with anticipation. At this point, there’s nothing I can do about my fitness levels, this will be a battle of the body and the mind, but it’s the mind that will get me through the toughest bits.

Not long after I begin the climb I need to put in extra effort but it feels good, until I hit the first steep section and I have to double down on output. This is a lot like the first hurdle in a start up business; after the euphoria and excitement fades and reality sets in. It’s not a comfortable feeling but I know I have to become accustomed to an ongoing level of discomfort because it will be a constant companion on my journey.

Focus is needed immediately. I cannot let the dark thoughts unravel me this early, I must stop thinking about my lack of preparation and push through the job at hand. But the incline continues, and at 10% it’s a grind. I wonder how long I can keep going. I look over at my riding partners to see how they’re feeling; some are moving ahead, others dropping back. My commitment is strong and I’m still focused on the end goal but I've only covered 8kms of a 26km climb and the destination seems so far away. I ask myself: Is this achievable? Do I really have what it takes to make it? Thoughts of quitting begin.

Then, there’s a breakthrough, the incline decreases, 10% becomes 7% and I feel the pressure release. I am breathing easier and maintaining momentum takes less effort. I find time to take care of the things I haven’t had the chance to do while I was working so hard just to keep moving.

At this time, I’m reminded of the things entrepreneurs tend to forget about when we are busy building out our dreams such as taking time to be present, to pause and enjoy the scenery or the world around us. Most importantly, making time for our family and friends.

Soon the road starts to decline. I almost catch those ahead of me but I know those behind me are also feeling better.

Momentum grows and pretty soon, I pick up decent speed but I feel out of control again. There’s a lot going on, things are moving faster, I have to make decisions quickly and the wrong one will have consequences—potentially serious. I need more information to make the right decision, but there never seems to be enough time. I wonder if my systems will hold, did we do enough in the preparation stage? Some systems will let you down, but at this speed, I hope it’s not right now.

Stay focused on your goal I tell myself. I make it to the bottom and feel an immediate sense of achievement, but there is no time to cruise. My goal for today is still 8km away, and it's uphill all the way.

I keep pushing and some of the other riders are so far ahead I can’t see them. Those lagging behind are also out of sight. It’s just me on my own.

Know the feeling?

This is the moment I realise that the hard work is really about to begin. It will require maximum effort to reach my goal but getting there is still not a certainty. The environment begins to play a part and how I let it affect me will determine the level of suffering. Can I keep focus? Can I ignore outside influences? This would be the perfect time to leverage my partners, take their help to shield myself from the storm. But where are they? How much did I anticipate these challenges and prepare a contingency plan? Did I remember to bring a rain jacket?

I feel the effort in my mind, all through my body—at this point there is so much effort and so little reward. The dark thoughts are back but they’re much stronger this time because I’m tired and suffering. It hurts. I begin to doubt myself, and question the reason I started this journey. I start to think very seriously about quitting.

Just like the other cyclists on this road...my co-workers, partners and even my family have their own struggles and they cannot hear the voice in my head. At this point, they can’t help me. This is my challenge and mine alone, for now.

Soon, the road changes elevation, a little higher, a little lower, I ride the waves, embrace the release and try to ignore the pain. Each kilometre is a mini success; every pedal stroke is a small achievement. I remind myself to look around, enjoy the scenery, and take in the incredible views my hard work has uncovered. Is it worth it? Yes, and no.

I imagine I have achieved my goal and this fuels me on, I pass others now struggling on their own journey, lost in their own voices. I use this energy I have created for the final push. The goal is close, the last kilometres are signposted: four more, three more. I am so close; I can do this. Anticipate the feeling of crossing that finish line and harness the positivity, channel it into an even bigger finish.

And then, it’s there—right in front of me. I've made it. I congratulate myself on the achievement, I smile, or maybe scream, or laugh. Or possibly I throw up as the intensity hits me. The pain is still there but it's dulled a little. I can relax for a moment, celebrate and rest.

But then, after a while, I look up. I’ve made it to the top, but there’s another mountain ahead. It’s bigger, the road is steeper, and it’s now the hottest part of the day. For all the cyclists who ride up mountains, the view from the top is unique. The same is true for entrepreneurs, and from that peak I have a pretty clear view of what’s ahead. That’s the point I allow myself to wonder;

what is it going to take to reach the top of that next mountain? Do I have what it takes to succeed?