Plan the Hike & Hike An Adventure

Hiking brings out the adventurer in me. Standing at the trailhead with only a limited view of the trail, I have no idea what I'm truly about to experience. Sure, I've consulted guidebooks so I know the difficulty, the elevation, the basics.

However, I'm venturing forth mostly trusting that the view at the top of the mountain, the waterfall at the end of the trail, or the petroglyphs on the boulders around the bend will be reward enough. I set out, hungry to experience what's ahead, as if I'm the first person to explore the area.

Then I hiked in the Grand Canyon. Called an "inverted mountain," the exposed canyon walls, plateaus, and valleys revealed what I'd be in for: steep switchbacks, several-thousand-foot elevation drops, and a realization that once I reached my destination, I'd have completed the easy part. The return, back on the same trail, would be uphill all the way. And after reading the ubiquitous campaign throughout the park about the tragedies of unprepared hikers, obviously written by reporters from the doom-and-gloom Weather Channel, I momentarily doubted my abilities. I'd have to be a masochist to attempt the Bright Angel or South Kaibab Trail!

So what does all this have to do with your operations? Plenty. Hiking in the Grand Canyon got me thinking about the ways we approach new initiatives--launching new campaigns, programs, products, corporate sponsorship sales, events, or services.

One way is with blind trust-to just start and see what happens, where we go, what comes about. Certainly, at least a modicum of planning is necessary-perhaps a vision about what we'd like to see happen, confidence in our skills, and resources to carry us there. When we kick off a new endeavor naively, we may achieve some degree of success initially, but often we're unable to achieve longevity. We just don't know what's on the road ahead, where to turn next, or how to stretch our resources and maximize all our opportunities.

At first, gazing down on the Grand Canyon's bare trails felt anticlimactic. Why do I need to hike it if I can already see the outcome? Reading about the challenges of hiking the high desert trails-the 20-degree temperature increases, the change in oxygen levels, and the dreaded thousands-of-feet descent and ascent-pushed my apprehension buttons.

However, this knowledge also motivated me to be prepared with adequate food and water supplies, to hike when rested during the cooler parts of the day, and to move at my own pace. Then new doubt arose: had I over planned? Had I taken the fun and sense of adventure out of the hike?

In a nutshell, no. Good planning is critical. It allows us to move forward on a new endeavor with confidence and to leap over obstacles. I knew I'd be in for a challenge and that excited me. As I descended and re-emerged above the canyon rim, I felt more open, secure, and relaxed. Sure, it was challenging-my legs burned, I was huffing, puffing and sweating. But the scenery was spectacular; the breezy, dry air a luxury; and the chance to take a look at millions of years of the earth's insides was a gift.