I avoided black diamonds for 42 years. Last week, three friends ended that.
I ski about once a year. Maybe twice if I'm lucky.
So when I go, I stay where I'm comfortable. Greens. Blues. Controlled terrain I know I can handle.
Last week I was on a ski trip with three friends who are all significantly better skiers than me. When they pointed toward the black diamond, I had two choices: meet them at the bottom or follow them down something I'd spent four decades avoiding.
I went down it.
It wasn't pretty. I fell. I was slow. At one point I'm fairly certain I was moving sideways. But I made it down.
And standing at the bottom, I kept thinking about one question:
Would I have ever attempted that run on my own?
The answer is no. Not a chance.
I wouldn't have booked a trip with that run in mind. I wouldn't have talked myself into it standing at the top of the mountain alone. I needed people around me who were already doing it — people whose presence made attempting it feel more possible than avoiding it.
The Research Nobody Talks About
Researchers at the University of Virginia ran a study that stopped me cold when I came across it.
They had participants stand at the base of a steep hill wearing heavy backpacks, then asked them to estimate how steep the hill was. Some participants stood there alone. Others were paired with a friend.
The participants standing with a friend perceived the hill as significantly less steep than those standing alone. And the longer the friendship, the gentler the hill appeared.
The challenge didn't change. The hill didn't move. The weight of the backpack was identical.
But the presence of the right people literally changed what felt possible before anyone took a single step.
That's what happened at the top of that black diamond. I wasn't coached. I wasn't given a technique. Three people I trusted were already moving toward it — and the run that had felt off-limits for 42 years suddenly felt like something I could attempt.
The second piece of research explains what happens once you do attempt it.
Researchers at the Kellogg School of Management at Northwestern University studied more than 58,000 workers and found that sitting within 25 feet of a high performer boosted that person's performance by up to 15%. Not mentorship. Not formal feedback. Just proximity to someone operating at a higher level.
Put them together and the argument becomes hard to ignore: the right people change what you're willing to attempt — and then raise your performance once you do.
That's not inspiration. That's science. And it should change how seriously every leader thinks about who they're spending time with.
Comfort zones are sneaky.
They don't feel like limitations. They feel like competence.
I was competent on blues. I knew the terrain. I knew my ability. There was nothing wrong with staying there.
Except I never would have discovered what I was actually capable of without people who were already operating at a higher level.
That's the real cost of the wrong circle. Not that they drag you down — though that happens too. It's that they make your current ceiling feel like the ceiling. Staying comfortable feels reasonable. Even smart.
The most dangerous relationships in a leader's life aren't the ones that tear you down. They're the ones that let you stay exactly where you are — comfortable, capable, and quietly capped.
What Great Leaders Actively Build
In my first book, Compete Every Day, I break down the six relationships that determine every leader's trajectory — three to avoid and three to find.
The three to avoid are recognizable once you know what to look for: the yes men who tell you what you want to hear instead of what you need to hear, the envious who quietly resent your growth, and the excuse makers who always have someone else to blame.
The three to find are harder to build — but they're everything:
People who encourage you when you fall down. People who challenge you and hold you accountable when you fail to meet the standard you've set for yourself. And people who remind you of who you have the potential to become when you forget.
That last one is the one most leaders underestimate.
My three friends on that mountain didn't talk me into the black diamond. They didn't coach me on technique or promise I'd be fine. Their presence — and their willingness to go first — quietly reframed what was possible.
That's what the right people do. They don't just cheer you on from where you are. They pull you toward something you'd never chase alone.
A Question Worth Sitting With
Every leader eventually hits a ceiling that comfort built.
The question isn't whether you have the talent to break through it. The question is whether the people around you are pulling you toward the black diamond — or helping you feel good about staying on the blue.
Who in your life is raising your ceiling right now? And who's quietly keeping it where it is?
