We spent this past weekend at our family’s cabin nestled among 1,200 acres in the wilds of western Pennsylvania. Country living! No traffic. No emails. No endless scrolling. Just sunshine, swimming pools, horseshoes, campfires, card games, hiking, and plenty of iconic Straub Beer. It was glorious!
Saturday’s adventure centered around a hike to abandoned railroad tracks hidden just beyond the property. The destination itself wasn’t especially remarkable, but getting there certainly was.
After setting off with confidence, we quickly discovered that confidence and direction are not always the same thing. There were a few wrong turns. More than a little hacking through thick undergrowth. And, at one point, we found ourselves completely disoriented. Yet eventually we regained our bearings and emerged onto the old railroad bed. Success.
We admired the view, took a few pictures, and began our trek back to camp. To avoid some of the thicker woods we had encountered on the way there, we decided to return using a different route. Eventually we came to a fork in the trail.
I was fairly certain we needed to head right. After some spirited debate, the group eventually agreed. Right it was!
The decision felt good. We were energized. Lunch awaited back at camp. The pool was calling our names. We could practically taste the cold beverages waiting for us. For the next thirty minutes, we confidently marched forward. Until we reached a dead end. A complete dead end. The trail simply stopped. Rut-Ro!
At that moment, we faced a choice. We knew exactly how to get back on track. We could retrace our steps to the fork and take the left path. The problem was that doing so meant hiking back uphill. It also meant admitting we had made the wrong choice. And nobody enjoys that feeling.
The alternative was tempting. We could cut through the woods. Maybe there was a shortcut. Maybe we could save time. Maybe we could avoid the discomfort of going backward. Of course, we’d already gotten lost once in thick brush earlier in the day. But still, the temptation was there.
Fortunately, cooler heads prevailed. We turned around. We retraced our steps. We swallowed our pride and went back to where we had gone wrong.
And here’s the funny thing. The distance back to the fork wasn’t nearly as long as it felt in our minds. Soon enough, we were heading downhill on the correct path toward civilization, lunch, and the pool. The setback was minor. The lesson was major.
And how often do you face those exact choices in our business and personal lives?
We Need to Face Reality
In business, a project may start drifting off course. Sales decline. The strategy isn’t working. An investment isn’t producing results. Deep down, we know we’ve taken a wrong turn. Yet instead of retracing our steps, we double down.
We throw more resources at the problem. We add complexity. We create elaborate explanations for why things aren’t working. We convince ourselves that one more tweak will save the day. And more often than not, we end up hopelessly lost.
The reality is that the strongest leaders are not the ones who never make mistakes. They’re the ones who recognize mistakes early and have the courage to pivot. They understand that going backward for a short period is often the fastest way to move forward.
We Need to Keep Searching
And the same principle applies in our personal lives. A misunderstanding develops with a spouse, friend, coworker, or family member. We say something we shouldn’t have said. We hurt someone. We know what would fix it. An apology. A conversation. A simple acknowledgment that we were wrong. Yet pride convinces us to keep moving forward instead.
We avoid the discussion. We bury the issue. We move on to the next relationship, the next friendship, or the next distraction without ever correcting the original mistake. Like hikers cutting through unfamiliar woods, we wander farther and farther from the path that leads home. And eventually we are in danger of giving up hope of even searching for the right path!
Find Our Way Home
There is no shame in retracing our steps when we know those steps will lead us back to the right path. Everyone gets lost occasionally. Everyone takes wrong turns. Everyone makes decisions they wish they could revisit.
Resilience is not about avoiding mistakes altogether. It’s about what happens next.
When we discover we’re off course, we need to keep things simple. We can’t waste energy trying to cover up the mistake or make up lost ground. We can’t convince ourselves that a dangerous shortcut is somehow safer than a proven path.
We need to go back to where things went wrong. We need to correct the mistake. We need to find the trail again. Because in the end, resilience isn’t measured by how far we wander from the path. It’s measured by our willingness to do whatever it takes to find our way back home.