This spring, I took a trip with the neighbor girls to Sedona. It was nothing short of amazing, but it came with one of the biggest physical challenges I have encountered in years: Devil’s Bridge.
If you are not familiar with Devil’s Bridge – look it up! It is a four-mile round-trip hike with a trailhead elevation of 4,605 feet, and the last 371 feet before you can see the bridge is practically a vertical climb.
Every time we got to a new plateau, I looked up, only to see there was more ahead. I made it almost to the top, to a beautiful plateau, and told these lovely women I love, who are all a good 10 years (and more) younger than me, that I was done and good with my decision. I would not be going to Devil’s Bridge. I would be waiting for them right here on this beautiful plateau – appreciating every moment, soaking it in.
I felt so accomplished in that moment. We had hiked for three days. This was our last day of hiking, and all the different degrees of difficulty, but this was the hardest.
I watched this same story play out in the corporate arena with great leader after great leader.
I have sat across from leaders who have just completed the biggest project of their career, rebuilt a team everyone had written off, or finally got the recognition they had been working toward for years, and within six months, something shifts. They stop raising their hands, start hedging in meetings, and get careful in ways they never were before. When I ask what’s going on, they don’t say fear. They say things like I want to be thoughtful here. I want to make sure I don’t undo what we have built. I want to be strategic about my next move. It sounds right, but that’s the problem.
They climbed the mountains, reached what felt like the top, only to look up and see that, should they choose it, there was another challenge ahead.
In this moment, they feel accomplished. But then their brain steps in, pointing to the beauty of the plateau. Telling them that they are lucky to have made it this far. In the corporate arena, it sounds like this:
🔸Could I really do it again?
🔸I don’t want to ruin my reputation; they finally trust me.
🔸I don’t want to put this at risk; it is all finally working.
And we justify it as wisdom.
Acknowledging your limits after reaching one of the most breathtaking views on Earth sounds like self-awareness. But it may be fear of exposure.
Not wanting to ruin your reputation feels strategic. You have made it, and don’t want to put this success at risk. But what most don’t realize is that it is identity protection. If I couldn’t make it to the top and had tried, I would have to admit our age difference, my physical abilities. But not trying, I could pawn off to the beauty I wanted to take in at the time and free them to continue.
And believe me, skipping that last, almost 400 feet straight up with no clear path sounded like good judgment. Looking back, I can see that it was my nervous system keeping me exactly where I was, safe and semi-regulated. And, let me remind you, it was a beautiful spot. No need to move.
That plateau I sat on was not neutral, nor is the plateau in your career. It has a price. You get bored, you stop innovating, and the organization moves on without you. Or worse, in many situations, your downstream freezes, and the plateau that feels like safety becomes your career ceiling, and sometimes the ceiling for your team, too.
Most people think the plateau is what happens when you stop trying. You look at the leader in the office next to you and assume she has given up and is doing what she needs to get by. But the plateau starts the moment you succeed. It’s the safe ledge you earned. It doesn’t feel bad, it feels safe. That is what makes the plateau dangerous.
