The Moment: what happened
Twenty miles from the Leadville 100 finish. I rolled into an aid station and found Reid—my cycling coach—sitting on the ground, still clipped into his pedals. Defeated.
"I'm quitting," he said.
"Get your ass up."
"Nah, mate. I'm cooked—"
"It’s not called the Leadville 80 man. Get. Up."
He stared at me. Then stood up. I set the pace out of that station. Twenty miles later, he crossed the finish line and pulled me into a hug.
"Thanks for that back there, if I'd quit, I'd have hated myself forever."
The Moral: why it matters
Same pattern everywhere. Employee ready to quit a hard project—don't do it for them, remind them they've done hard things before. Spouse buried under a tough month—don't fix everything, say I see you, keep going. Kid convinced they can't make it—don't carry them across, get them back on their feet.
Most people quit not because they can't finish, but because they forgot they can.
The Move: what to do about it
I still jump in when someone's struggling. But now I ask first: Are they stuck, or have they forgotten what they're capable of?
Stuck means they need help. Forgotten means they need a mirror.
Gut Check: Who in your life is ready to quit—not because they can't do the thing, but because they've forgotten they can.
—John Grover