The summer before I started business school I went backpacking solo through Central America for a month. With five days left in the trip, I had found myself on the Atlantic coast of Costa Rica – in Puerto Viejo – and I was about halfway through a surfing lesson that was not going well at all.
I’d always been an awkward kid, and after shooting up 6 inches the summer after 7th grade I became a klutz too.
In fact I had already managed several injuries on this trip: 2nd degree sunburns, a sprained ankle, and lacerations from slipping in a waterfall. I was a walking disaster.
So it should come as no surprise that I was not exactly a natural at surfing. I finally had been able to stand for a fleeting second when I fell and hit myself in the face with the board, which gave me a terrible bloody nose.
I’m sitting on the sand with a giant wad of tissue stuffed in my face, trying to stop the bleeding, when this girl Amanda runs by.
We’ve only just met the night before at our hammock hotel and she seems pretty cool overall.
Amanda’s the kind of girl who came to Costa Rica for two weeks and somehow four months later was still bouncing her way around Central America.
Anyway, she’s out of breath and carrying her backpack, and she stops along the road just long enough to call out to me: "There’s a bus leaving for the border of Panama in 25 minutes.
Do you want to come with me to the islands of Bocas del Toro?"
My first reaction is swift and decisive: I think No.
The reasoning was so clear-cut: First, I've already paid for my hammock tonight. Second, I still have an hour left of my surfing lesson.
And third, I have no plans to go to Panama, and with my flight home to New York in just five days, exactly how and when would I get back?
But before I decline, I hesitate.
There were hammocks in Panama and even coconuts with straws in them. Also my Lonely Planet guidebook did say the white sand and the seafood in Bocas were not to be missed.
And, let’s be totally honest, I'm not having any fun in my surfing lesson. Before I know it, I’m telling Amanda Yes – I’ll meet her at the bus stop in what is now 24 minutes.
The summer before I started business school I went backpacking solo through Central America for a month. With five days left in the trip, I had found myself on the Atlantic coast of Costa Rica – in Puerto Viejo – and I was about halfway through a surfing lesson that was not going well at all.
Now, there are a couple of nuances in that phrase so let’s break it down a bit:
Always be Willing – be open to the opportunity, even if you choose not to take it. You don’t have to jump on every bus, and I would actually recommend that you don’t, else you find yourself in perpetual motion, never arriving anywhere. You can be selective, but at least be willing to go after the opportunities as they arise.
Always be willing to Run – be ready to do the work necessary to grab the opportunity. My bus wasn’t going to wait for me forever in case I chose to show up. The bus schedule didn’t revolve around me, and neither does the rest of the world. Great opportunities are for a limited time only and you have to work to grab them, even if it’s uncomfortable. Running requires sweat and stamina.
And finally, be willing to run for the Bus – don’t wait for the limo or the private jet or the red carpet, be on the lookout for the opportunity that gets you where you need to go, even if it’s just a plain, old bus. Sure: some people get lucky and a limo shows up.
Sure: there’s a teeny tiny chance you might get one too. But if you pass on all of the busses waiting for that limousine, you may find yourself in the same spot long after everyone else has already moved on.
