Listen to the audio podcast of this post.
A “blizzard” struck Southern California in late February - this was on the heels of an atmospheric river pummeling Los Angeles in January which resulted in mudslides and part of our road collapsing. We were just getting back to “normal” when more massive winds, rains, hail and even snow hit us up. Downed power lines, fallen trees, mud slides galore. We were without power for four days and wound up going to a Courtyard by Marriott to stay warm. I’m so grateful that we have the resources to be able to find shelter.
The night the power came back, we headed home and parked on the single lane road leading to our house. We figured it didn’t matter if we were “blocking” the road because the mud slide prevented anyone from entering or exiting anyway.
It was nice to walk in the pitch blackness - the air was clean after all the rain and I love the quietness of Laurel Canyon. We didn’t want to make more than one trip from the car to the house so I carried my jammed back-pack, a big paper bag filled with food and mail, and our little dog Roo so he wouldn’t get muddy from the walk. I was so looking forward to taking a hot shower, getting into my jammies and curling up in my bed with my fluffy white comforter. It had been a rough several days.
Despite the lack of streetlamps and no flashlight because my hands were full, I felt confident maneuvering the road in darkness.
My confidence was overblown …
One moment, I’m chugging along feeling the slippery mud under my feet, breathing deeply to keep up the pace, holding Roo close to my body to keep him warm, ignoring how the big paper-bag handle was digging into my hand and throwing me slightly off kilter.
The next moment, my left foot steps into 14 inch sludge. I’ve got momentum so even though I clock the texture of cold wetness around my boot and calf, my right foot steps forward and sinks even further than my left. Instinctively my left foot tries to move forward to keep walking, but it’s absolutely-completely-no-doubt-about-it stuck. This is super-mud in the form of clay, extremely fine particles suspended in just enough liquid that — in the previous rain — it grabbed onto one of our car tires as my husband tried to drive through it and would not let go–it took an SUV and a half-inch chain to pull it out.
I’m gorilla glued.
And then I lose my balance and fall to my right knee. Miraculously I hold on to Roo and the bag and don’t face-plant.
At this point, I really start to clock how cold the wet mud is and the weight of the paper bag … and how weak my leg strength is even though I’m an OrangeTheory loyalist.
I’m determined to get un-stuck without the help of my 13-year-old daughter Aurora and my husband. They’ve got their hands full with our luggage from staying at the hotel, and Aurora’s got all her school stuff (and she’s also trying to keep our other dog Rocco from taking off into the hills).
I pull hard on my left foot, nothing. Deep breath. Try again. Nothing. Another deep breath and another pull. Nothing.
I rest the heavy bag on the top of the mud, hoping it doesn’t get too wet and start to fall apart.
I consider letting Roo down, but he’s a skinny little chihuahua Italian greyhound mix and it feels cruel to put him in the super-mud.
Hard truth: I can’t get myself unstuck, by myself.
“Aurora?” I say, “I need help.”
She’s wisely gone to the other side of the slide to put her stuff down on the pavement and tied Rocco’s leash to her backpack.
She comes back for me and stands on the berm of the road. The berm separates the street from the steep slope of the hillside. With the poise of an Olympic downhill skier, she balances herself on the 8-inch-wide berm and holds out her hands.
I can’t just hand her Roo. Our arms are about 2 feet short of touching each other.
I really don’t want him to get him cold and muddy. So I use what’s left in my energy tank and toss 18 pounds of Roo to her. Yay! She catches him. OrangeTheory does pay off!
Then the wet paper bag makes its way to Aurora and finally I’ve got my hands free. I roll up the sleeves of my jacket and bury my right hand in mud until I find the pavement. I push myself up off my right knee so I’m standing. My left boot is still stuck so I slide my stocking-ed foot out and plant it in mud so I can reset and find better balance.
I then pull my boot out of the mud (I probably could have left it behind and retrieved it in the morning, but I was not thinking clearly), reach out to grab Aurora’s hand, and she man-handles me to the berm where I do a wobbly 15-foot tight-rope walk to “safety.”
Soooo many lessons in this experience.
I was over-confident and my eagerness to get home put blinders on me.
I ignored the conditions: it was dark, it was muddy, there was a mudslide, we were on a single lane road on a hillside with a steep slope.
I didn’t prepare myself properly. I could have taken more than one trip and not tried to carry so much at one time. That would have freed up a hand to use the flashlight on my phone. And that would have shown me the mud slide I was about to walk into.
When I got stuck, I thought I could muscle my way out of the mud. I kept thinking, “It’s just mud. I just need to pull harder.”
I didn’t ask for help. In reflecting back on that moment it came from two places. First is that I didn’t want Aurora or my husband to get stuck too. Part of my “story” is that I don’t want to be a burden. Second is that I have this thing about being independent – I “have” to prove I can do things on my own. (Another part of my “story.”)
This experience has helped me further breakdown why people get stuck in pursuit of a goal:
😎 Overconfident in their abilities
😎 Ignore existing conditions that could impede or slow their progress
😎 Are ill-prepared because they haven’t acknowledged the conditions
😎 Hold a mistaken belief that they can simply push through any challenges if they just want it badly enough
😎 Unwilling to ask for support
I made it home. I took my shower, got in my jammies and cuddled into bed with Roo. Embarrassed at my hubris, and grateful for Aurora and her Wonder Woman strength.
How are you navigating challenges? What new resources or tools do you need to support you in moving forward?
If you’re resonating with what you’re reading, please consider subscribing. What’s that mean?
🙌🏾 You’ll receive regular emails (with lots of heart and a bit of humor) that share a tool or insight from my coaching practice.
🙌🏾 Typically the email will have a question at the end to provoke thought that supports you in your growth.
🙌🏾 Updates on offerings, free stuff, recommendations, referrals.
🙌🏾 Questions? Want to work with me? Reach out directly here.
If you haven’t already received my free values workbook, you’re missing out! Values are our north star and help us to make decisions. Having clarity on your core values is essential to hitting your moonshot.
Oy, so looking forward to talking with you! I love how you described this horrifying reality. Was right there in your Orange Theory effort and aptitude. Thank you for writing this. Thank you for thinking so deeply and being able to simplify it for us so we can track our own situations better!