I recently completed a 20-mile Mammoth March at Letchworth State Park in upstate New York. The views were incredible, which helps when your feet hurt, your legs are heavy, and you begin questioning both your preparation and your sanity.
One of the beautiful waterfalls in Letchworth State Park during the Mammoth March
I trained for several months, but I had never actually completed the full 20 miles. Along the route, there were opportunities to stop. Some participants did, and I understood why. The shorter, more comfortable route was right there. A van would pick you up and take you right back to where you started.
But I had not driven from North Carolina to upstate New York to quit!
My husband was the reason I agreed to participate, but somewhere along the trail, the hike became something more personal. I needed to find out whether I could keep going when my body was tired and my confidence was lacking. At mile 17 I had to dig deep.
When I saw the finish line, and the photographer waiting to snap our picture, I was flooded with emotion and shed a tear. It lasted only a moment, but it surprised me.
The Finish Line – We did it!
I had done something I truly was not sure I could do!
You know your practice cannot keep operating the same way, but the familiar route still feels easier. The schedule is chaotic. Communication is inconsistent. Paperwork is piling up. A critical process depends on one person remembering every step. (Read my article on the Pom Pom handle)
Everyone agrees something needs to change, until the uphill climb begins.
Real improvement is rarely one dramatic leap. It is simply one foot in front of the other. Really, it is simply a series of small decisions:
Address the problem instead of continuing to work around it.
If you are familiar with my work, you know I regularly speak about the 4 Ps of medical practices. People, Patients, Paperwork, and Processes are interconnected. When one area changes, the others feel it. Good or bad. Compassion is what helps a team move through that change without losing trust.
My husband could have finished (much) faster. Instead, he stayed close. On the big inclines he moved ahead, then waited for me at the top. He encouraged me without dragging me and challenged me without leaving me behind. The total elevation change was a little over 4000ft. The total time was 9 hours – that included stops for bathroom, hydration and the best peanut butter and jelly sandwich I’ve ever eaten.
That is what strong leadership and meaningful support look like.
The hard thing in your practice may not require a 20-mile solution today. It may require one honest conversation, one improved workflow, or one decision you have been postponing.
You can do hard things. Start with the next step. And remember, you do not have to walk the entire trail alone.
There is a reward at the end, a feeling of accomplishment. A practice that functions less chaotic, and a feeling of pride in your work. In my case, it was a soak in a hot tub, a Belgian beer and a hamburger.
