It’s 3:00 a.m. The sky is black and my headlamp is fading. I’m on the Tahoe Rim Trail high in the Sierra Nevada mountains. I’m over 100 miles into a 215 Mile race. Lost and alone, the beam of my headlamp seemed to fade with every step I took. My chest tightened into a knot. Five minutes earlier, I had been soaring. Now my breath was ragged, and every rustle in the dark felt like an existential threat. You see, I had just had my first trail nap, a quick power nap on the side of the trail that had re-energized me. I had been feeling amazing. My legs refreshed, and I was moving well. I had texted Michelle about an hour earlier, telling her how incredible I felt. I couldn’t believe how much of a difference that power nap made.
Then, out of nowhere, my watch, loaded with the course GPS track, started beeping at me. I was off course, which seemed odd given that I was on the Tahoe Rim trail.There were not any other options I had seen. But as you well know, technology never lies, so I stopped, consulted my watch and sure enough, it said I’d gone off course.
I wondered if I had missed a turn somewhere. I pulled up my phone to access the more detailed map, and the phone confirmed I was off course.
My thumb swiped frantically over the small map, searching for that blue line as I moved cautiously forward. I stumbled over a low bush; the sting of the scratches barely registered. My anxiety rose. I contemplated various scenarios. Would I miss the cutoff? Would I have to quit the race? I had visions of search and rescue lined up side by side, combing the bush, trying to find my cold, stiff body.
In a flash of clarity, I realized the technology had let me down, and that I had not actually been off course. I turned around to go back to the trail I had just left, only to realize that in my panic I’d become so disoriented I did not know where the original trail was.
It had been at least 33 hours since I had a proper sleep. Every thought felt like wading through chest-deep mud. “Slow down, Mike, don’t let the thoughts spiral out of control.”
In that moment, lost, alone, and confused, I did the only thing I knew to do: I sent Michelle a text. Intellectually, I knew she was likely asleep, and even if she wasn’t, there was absolutely nothing she could do for me. But I needed that human connection. I needed to know somebody was there. I needed to know somebody cared.
Michelle responded. “Hey babe, I got you. What do you need?”
What do I need? What a brilliant question. At that moment, I realized the only thing I needed was to know she was there. My mind cleared, and I replied, “Nothing. I am going to wait til I see the next runner’s headlamp. Thanks, babe!”
My nervous system back in check, I grabbed a PowerBar for a snack and waited. It did not take long before two headlamps crested the horizon. I yelled out.
“Hey, I’m off-trail!”
The two headlamps stopped moving, and I could see them scanning the trail.
“Nope, we’re good!” they called back. Clearly misunderstanding what I was trying to say.
“No, no! I’m off-trail! Can you stay there for a minute until I can get back to you?” Panic resurfaced as I thought they might take off before I got back to the trail.
They waited. I made my way back to them and the trail and explained what had happened. The second one consulted their map and confirmed that it did indeed show that we were off trail. After a few minutes of conferring, we agreed it must be a mistake in the GPX file as there were no other trails nearby. We carried on down the trail, sticking close together until eventually my watch beeped at me, confirming that we were “back on course.”
As leaders, the lesson is clear: The culture we build must prioritize connection over competence in a crisis.
True strength isn’t about being the one who always knows the answer or who never shows weakness. True strength is in knowing when and how to reach out, and more importantly, in creating a team environment where it’s safe for others to do the same. We don’t have to navigate our struggles, professional or personal, solo. Sometimes, a simple, non-judgmental “Hey, I got you, what do you need?” is the only solution required.
You know the comfort of receiving that lifeline. Look around your organization: Who in your life is on a dark trail right now? Send them your version of a ‘Hey, I got you.’
