Business owners, ever feel like your break is just a dream? Here’s how I mastered the art of the pause
We never get to turn it off. But we can turn the volume down.
I spend so much time planning and plotting for the trip.
I was walking the Brooklyn promenade last night, I said out loud to Matt “Did we even go away?”
Moab already feels like a million years ago. Last week, we were celebrating his birthday with another couple. The wife was a former client of mine at the Women’s Leadership Lab.
We booked the trip in September 2023. I researched all the third party vendors for hiking, horseback riding, and kayaking and put down deposits.
With park passes bought and horses booked, all we had to do was search for the perfect cowboy hat. (See below).
In the interim, life decided to throw me a curveball.
Menopause and uncontrollable bleeding for 5 weeks.
Meanwhile, I kept up my feverish work pace, writing content, commenting on posts, doing sales calls in between iron transfusions, blood transfusions, chest x rays, blood tests, and doctor’s office visits.
I kept up that pace right up until I collapsed on the sidewalk and was rushed to the hospital.
It wasn’t a hysterectomy, but things were taken out.
I wasn’t emotional. I was never going to have children. But I would be bereft if I couldn’t make this trip.
The mathematical genius Alexander Grothendieck once offered a metaphor for solving problems. He suggested that instead of forcing open an impossibly hard kernel with a hammer and chisel, one should simply let it sit in water and wait.
Over time, the shell softens and opens with ease.
Wednesday, April 10th
It’s a quick trip from JFK to Salt Lake City, our port of entry into the Four Corners of the United States. We were on the first flight out. Both airports were buzzing with chirpy college kids on spring break and parents with April break kids in tow.
Matt and I often marvel at the ease and kindness we experience at the car rental counter outside New York City, where the standard answer is often, “We don’t have no cars. You gotta wait 1 hour.”
The attendant in SLC pointed to a stretch of shiny new SUV’s and said “Take your pick!”
Really? Matt and I looked at each other in disbelief. We picked a slate grey Ford Edge.
Our friends were arriving later in the day, so we dropped off our luggage at the Hyatt, and Ubered to the Laurel Bistro in the for lunch. It nests inside the old school Grand America Hotel with grandfather clocks, chandeliers, and chaises galore. (There was even a harp player.) I got a gorgeous California chardonnay, oakey and buttery, the way I like it, paired with a salad.
I’ve been especially indulgent since surgery, so I stopped in the French cafe for an ice cream too.
We made our way to the district known as “9th and 9th,” a hip section of town, riddled with more smoothies shops can any square foot of land should have. There I found “Salt and Honey” where I bought earrings, made by a local artisan with a beautiful story.
Stacey Jo Räbiger had told her mother she would become an artist someday. A bout of rhematoid arthritis short circuited that vision. She lamented that she never made that dream come true when she had full faculty over her hands. After an arduous treatment, agency over her hands returned, and she made the artist dream come true. She crafted these stunning earrings in brass.
I bought one for each of my friends back home.
Once our friends got to town, dinner was at Bambara at the hip Monaco hotel. Our friends are vegetarian, so we picked it for the menu. A beautiful bottle of Cab Sauv from Pasa Robles paired well with our meal.
Thursday April 11th
We headed out in the morning for Moab, which is a solid, but scenic 3 hour + drive.
Since the pandemic, Archlands National Park has instituted a ‘timed entry system’ to control the crowds. Check in time at ULUM Moab wasn’t until 4pm, so we headed straight to the park for our 3pm entry time. I had bought our vehicle pass ahead of time through Recreation.gov.
Our goal was to do the 3-hour climb to Delicate Arch, which tests you with the rock scrambling and the midday heat.
I work out everyday, but I have been more ‘couch’ than ‘climb’ lately. Right before surgery, the proper complement of blood and oxygen weren’t getting to my vital organs, including my heart. Even the simplest of inclines in NYC would cause it to race, it was being taxed so hard.
Now I was 2 weeks out from surgery. The nutrients had a closed eco-system to replenish my organs. I would take the climb slow, lagging behind the group when needed. Sitting when I needed. I was determined to test my physicality.
Probably the most breathtaking part of the hike is two things:
The ledge that overlooks a canyon in the final stretch to the Arch.
Its about the size of a typical New York City sidewalk, but god help you, if you look to the left too long. There is no fence and no guardrail. I kept my eyes trained forward.
That ledge is no joke.
With one hairpin turn, the Arch unveils itself.
Families took turns taking photos underneath the arch.
Our friends Neetu and Arvind at the Delicate Arch.
Matt walking across the ‘bowl’ that sits below Delicate Arch.
At sunset, we went to the wonder that is the Double Arch.
It was past 10 pm when we finally checked into ULUM Moab, the luxury line of the Under Canvas empire. I collapsed into the luxurious Parachute linens of our king bed and drifted off to sleep. A wood burning fireplace was our only source of warmth in the desert, where overnight temps dropped to 32 degrees.
Friday April 12th
Friday was readying for a morning of horseback riding, probably the one thing I was keen to do while in Moab.
I wouldn’t have lasted in the olden days. My teeth chattered as I got out of bed. I stoked the fire, which had fizzled overnight. I wanted to get the tent temperature to a place where I could even fathom taking off one article of clothing to shower.
Acai bowls and warm sourdough toast was on offer at breakfast. I paired it with the Typhoo tea I ferried from home in my pocket.
It was a 15 minute drive to Elk Mountain Ranch.
Owner Hannah Adams would take the front of our mighty band. Wrangler Steve would take the rear.
When we arrived at her ranch, it took a lot of tries (and trades) to get the right pairing of nervous city slicker and horse. She didn’t judge. Remained patient and boosted us on to each horse, named for a famous country singer, with words like “gorgeous!” As uncoordinated as we all must have looked getting on a 1200 lb animal 3x our size
Early in the ride, one of the group members wanted to get off the horse. She didn’t like the feeling of no control. Hannah sought permission and offered options: “Do you want to keep going or do you want me to lead the horse for you?
My group member chose the latter.
I had a fiesty horse named Paco (above). As we headed into the creek, he decided to jump in, which promptly took this city girls breath away. I reined him to a screeching halt, frozen in the water. All of Hannahs careful instructionals had escaped my brain.
She sought permission again.
“Do you want to keep going?”
“Yes.”
I don’t love my own fear. I like to stare it down in the face.
She dismounted her horse, got right in the creek, and led Paco up to safer terrain, both rider and horse, cortisol-free.
And we kept riding across the sage and juniper strewn field, mountain ranges to the right and left.
She kept calm the entire time, emotions in check, role modeling calm for us all too. Never offering a critical word. In fact she motivated with only encouraging words, amplifying what we did right. Her wrangler commented how well I stayed calm despite Paco’s yen for jumping.
I said, “I was scared.”
Steve validated, “it’s okay to be scared.”
“I feel your stress. Know that the horse does too. Take a deep breath. Let go.”
I once trained under a coach named Julie Cottineau, who encouraged us to find inspiration in industries totally different than ours.
“What transfers over?”
That my discovery this day.
I was feeling weak, so as the rest of the group went off to check out down town Moab. I stayed at the resort and wrote the day away.
More than anything I wanted to stay present.
This vista of red sandstone, Roadrunner tumbleweed like the cartoons I watched as a kid, and vast expanse of land was only promised to me for 4 days.
In the evening, we sat by the massive fire pits at the resort, watched the sunset over Looking Glass arch.
I ate wayyyyy too many marshmallows while making smores on a stick.
Saturday, April 13th
Saturday was the grand finale. The coup de grace of the trip.
Part 1 was kayaking the Colorado River in the morning. The half day with Mild2Wild Rafting promised five rapids.
Our guide Luis quietly recommended I wear a full body wetsuit and aqua socks. I was seated in the front of our double kayak, with full frontal exposure to the rapids as we hit them.
Later, as I got rudely smacked in the face, I was really glad I listened.
It was a sunny and beautiful 45 minute bus ride, rafts and kayaks in tow, to the jetty.
We chatted gaily with Luis, about his native Chile.
Initially, I let the water from the Colorado River run slipshod over me at the rapids.
We went through 2.
Unsure of strategy, I let the water smack me in the face.
Twice.
Then I decided, "No more."
On the third rapids, I started smacking the water down and kept steering through it.
As we hit the water, I felt my core strength ramp back up. I paddled swiftly from side to side, Matt on steering duty in the back seat. I felt strong.
I was feeling like myself again.
My mind would wander to work and things mundane at home as we coasted down the Colorado, red sandstone to the right and the left. But I would sternly remind myself to ‘stay present.’
This stunning rock and River wouldn’t be at my desk back in New York.
We kept reminding ourselves that we are lucky to have the water to ourselves that morning.
The morning was spent IN the Colorado River.
The afternoon was spent hundreds of feet overlooking the Colorado River.
Part 2 was a visit to Dead Horse State Park.
I have never been to the Grand Canyon, but I suspect nature’s paintbrush did this place the same justice.
Dead Horse gets its name from an old lore. Cowboys herded feral horses onto a Mesa and barricaded them in on a high plateau. The horses died from the heat and lack of water and their spirits still haunt the land.
We did a short mile hike to Desert Outlook.
Then another at the Dead Horse Point Look out.
This time, I kept sitting, mainly to feel the grounding energy and healing from the rocks and stone.
My co-pilots were blazing ahead on the trail.
The evening was in downtown Moab.
I bought these tribal earrings at “The Sundry” founded by a woman from New York City, who decided to relocate and open this boutique with her partner.
Dinner was at Gloria’s before we all headed home to collapse into our luxe linen beds.
Sunday April 14th
I got up early and hightailed it over to Looking Glass Arch.
Over the last few days, I witnessed ambitious rappellers climbing the surface of it.
Back home, we push our selves in business.
Out here, people pushed themselves in their physicality.
A few errant sneakers lie at the base when I arrived, reminding me that someone was taking on the challenge even as I arrived. I set up my selfie stick and took photos in the morning dew.
The climbers made a swing and swung like a pendulum in the alcove.
Later I read that there was a nest of snakes at the base of Looking Glass. It was probably best that I read that once we were well on our 3 hour drive back to Salt Lake City.
Matt said, “You know? Sometimes I don’t feel so rested after a vacation. But this really hit the reset button. Thank you honey. “
We had both become the shells that opened with ease.
As a business owner, we never get to turn it off.
We have absorbed all the up front risk.
We are always thinking about our businesses. I’d be lying if I didn’t check in with my team once a day at least while I was away.
BUT—-at least for a little while, we can turn the volume down.
I read this Tweet from Dickie Bush, co founder of ConvertKit and I can’t stop thinking about it.
“Never forget why you started”
I built a business around my top values: Adventure, Beauty and Freedom.
I’ll never forget the smile that spread across my face when I learned my core values at a Mastermind in Atlanta during the pandemic. It totally made sense why I bristled at the thought of being tethered to an anchor desk anymore.
I wanted to build a business that supported my life.
I didn’t want my life to be a twig that supports my business.
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