The Cost of Resilience

In a deeply moving presentation to the Young Presidents' Organization, Commander Rebecca Calder, the first female fighter pilot graduate of Topgun, shared her harrowing experiences of what it takes—and what it costs—to embody resilience. As I listened to her recount the physical and mental tolls that her training demanded, I was struck by the profound and permanent health consequences she faces today, a stark reminder of the price of pushing oneself beyond the breaking point.

Commander Calder's narrative is a powerful exploration of the boundaries between necessary endurance and perilous overreach. It raises an essential question that resonates across high-stakes fields: When is resilience a testament to our strength, and when does it merely echo the whispers of our ego? This distinction is crucial, not just in the cockpit of a fighter jet, but in all arenas of life where high performance is celebrated.

The story of Calder contrasts poignantly with two iconic moments in gymnastics history, each illustrating a different response to the pressure of peak performance. At the 1996 Atlanta Olympics, Kerri Strug executed a vault on an injured ankle, clinching a gold medal for her team but at the cost of severe, long-term damage to her body. Strug’s choice embodies a traditional view of resilience as the ability to endure pain for a greater cause. On the other hand, Simone Biles, at the Tokyo 2020 Olympics, opted to withdraw from competition to prioritize her mental and physical health over medals. Biles' decision represents a modern understanding of resilience, one that values self-preservation and mental health as much as, if not more than, the pursuit of victory.

These stories, together with Commander Calder’s insights, invite us to reconsider our definitions of success and the metrics by which we measure our leaders and heroes. As Adam Grant might suggest, they challenge us to think more deeply about the "why" behind our drive for resilience. Is our persistence in pursuit of goals that truly matter to us, or are we being driven by external validations and the fear of not measuring up?

As we reflect on these narratives, we must ask ourselves: When does resilience serve us, and when does it drain us? Understanding this difference is vital in a world that often glorifies endurance without acknowledging its true cost. This presentation has not only highlighted the sacrifices made by those who push the limits but also underscored the importance of recognizing our own limits. True resilience, perhaps, lies in knowing when to push forward and when to step back for the sake of our long-term health and well-being.

Commander Calder’s experiences and the contrasting tales of Strug and Biles offer a rich framework for understanding resilience not just as the capacity to overcome, but as the wisdom to navigate the fine line between achieving and overreaching. As leaders, entrepreneurs, and individuals committed to personal and professional growth, we are called to balance ambition with self-care, ensuring that our pursuit of excellence is sustainable and humane. This session was a compelling reminder that while resilience can carry us to great heights, its true cost must never be overlooked.

Reflecting on the narratives of resilience shared by Commander Calder, Kerri Strug, and Simone Biles has reshaped my perspective on balancing the rigorous demands of leading a fast-growing company with my personal health and family life. These stories emphasize the importance of setting boundaries that protect my well-being and allow me to be fully present both at work and at home. As a CEO and a parent, I am reminded that the pursuit of professional success should not come at the expense of my health or the precious moments with my growing children.

This understanding constantly reminds me to make conscious choices daily that prioritize my physical and mental health, ensuring that I remain available and engaged as a parent. I am not there yet; I have a long way to go, but by embodying this balanced approach, I hope to allow myself some leeway when tough choices need to be made.