The River Between; The Space Between Where You Are....and Who You Are Becoming

Most people know I've spent the last 30 years in the outdoor industry.

What they may not know is that, for much of my career, I was slowly drifting away from the person who first fell in love with it.

It started when I was a teenager working at Pico Mountain. I remember sitting at the bottom of the Alpine Slide, surrounded by fresh air and mountains, thinking, I want to work outside forever.

That dream came true.

As my career grew, so did my responsibilities. Promotions led to bigger teams, larger budgets, and more time behind a computer than on the mountain. I found excuses to pull on my gear under the guise of inspections or checking in with staff—not because anyone expected me to, but because being outside reminded me why I started.

I loved my work. I truly did.

I was trusted. I was promoted. My paycheck grew. My résumé grew.

But somewhere along the way, the distance between who I had become and who I wanted to be quietly grew too.

Not because anything was wrong.

Because I had simply stopped checking in with myself.

Then, a few years ago, I found myself standing on the edge of what I now call the river.

On one bank was the life I had built.

On the other was the life I couldn't stop imagining.

I didn't want to erase everything I'd accomplished.

I wanted to bring the younger version of myself—the woman who loved being outside, creating, connecting, and living with purpose—into the life I was building next.

The problem wasn't knowing where I wanted to go.

The problem was stepping into the water.

It was my coach who first helped me understand that crossing the river wasn't about becoming someone new.

It was about returning to someone I had always been.

She asked me a simple question:

"What do you want to feel?"

My answer came immediately.

Peace.

Not an easy life.

Not less work.

Peace.

A life that felt aligned with who I was instead of who I thought I should be.

Today, I use that same river metaphor with my coaching clients.

I ask them where they're standing today.

Then I ask what waits for them on the opposite shore.

Almost immediately, the "shoulds" appear.

I should stay where it's safe.

I should keep making more money.

I should stop wanting something different.

Those voices are loud.

But they're rarely the voices of our authentic selves.

Here's what I've learned:

• The river isn't the obstacle.

• The river is the transformation.

• It's messy.

• It's uncertain.

• Sometimes you'll lose your footing.

• Sometimes you'll question every decision you've made.

That's exactly what growth feels like.

When I was crossing my own river, my coach encouraged me to simply "try on" different versions of myself. After three decades in one identity, of course it felt awkward. Of course it felt vulnerable.

It was supposed to.

Today, I don't believe the goal is to avoid the river.

The goal is to trust yourself enough to step in.

Because on the other side isn't a completely different person.

It's often the version of you who's been quietly waiting all along.

What's waiting for you on the other side of your river?

xo

Dana