E. B. White, Charlotte’s Web
I fly quite a bit in my line of work. And my time on the plane is usually reserved for writing.
Unless I find myself seated next to one of my kids.
A few years ago a business trip provided me with an opportunity to bring my wife and kids to Australia. Patrick, who was five at the time, sat next to me and busied himself with studying a map of the United States. He was amazed that roadways connected the entire country. As cool as flying was, he somehow seemed even more in awe of the fact that we could drive to every state in our country.
Except for Hawaii.
So he declared that when he grew up he was going to start a company that would find a way to pave a route to Hawaii.
No matter how many reasons I gave for why it would never work, Patrick looked up at me and asked one question: “Says who, Dad?”
Finally I suggested that he map out on his napkin how he would build his bridge. Knowing I’d just bought some time, I went back to the writing. But not before looking over at Patrick, out the window at all that water and thinking: Maybe there is a way to build a bridge to Hawaii!
There was something about his insistent desire to question my “no,” to push back against my desire to talk sense into him, that made me wonder: When was the last time I said, “Says who?” Whom am I allowing to dictate whether I try something or not?
Although we don’t often stop to think about it, each of us is influenced by the opinions of those around us. From the media, to friends and family, to our own internal dialogue, these voices coalesce to inform what we believe is possible. And what we feel certain is impossible.
But frequently, those voices are just plain wrong.
A few weeks later, I was seated across from a young man who soon proved this very point.
A good friend of mine asked if I’d spend a little time visiting with his son. The young man had been in and out of various colleges, switched his major several times, and was finally a semester from finishing a business degree. As adulthood loomed, he seemed listless and uninspired, unwilling to apply for jobs or truly anticipate what might come next.
After making some small talk, I asked what he planned to do after graduating. Lowering his coffee mug, he shifted uncomfortably in his seat and said: “I don’t know. I assumed that’s why we were meeting.”
Maybe his dad hadn’t introduced me accurately. I wasn’t a career coach. Sure, I helped people take steps on how to embark on their best life, but this kid had to give me something to work with!
Taking a different approach, I asked him what he wanted to do with his life, business degree and profession aside. “If you could do anything after graduation, and you knew you would not fail, what would you do?”
He looked away from me and out the window. A smile lit his face. And he spoke about his love for airplanes. In fact, for the first time since we sat down together, his voice came alive and seemed to sing with excitement.
He told me that for as long as he could remember he loved the idea of flying. He used to make model airplanes as a kid, he drew them in his free time and knew that someday he wanted to work around them. He didn’t care whether he was a pilot, a flight attendant, an aviation mechanic, or the guy who cleans the airplane lavatory; he just wanted to be around planes.
I listened intently and then asked the obvious question: “So what’s holding you back from doing exactly that?”
His smile disappeared.
He looked out the window. Took a sip of coffee. Looked up at me. And responded: “I am too old.”
“How old are you?”
“I’m twenty-four.”
“Dude!” I responded. “I have ties that are older than you!”
But he shrugged off my comment. “Like I said, I’m too old. I’ve already put all this time into this degree. It’s too late.”
He was twenty-four years old. The vast majority of his life awaited him. And he thought he was too old to pursue a life doing what he loves.
So I asked the question Patrick had peppered me with a few weeks earlier.
Says who?
Who exactly is it that says a twenty-four-year-old is too old to make a career change?
Who says just because you start down one path in life you can’t pivot, even wildly, and begin heading down another?
Who says we must accept what is, rather than dream and build what could be?
He was not too old. I knew this from firsthand experience.
I was seven years into a career as a real estate developer when I first spoke in front of a small group of Girl Scouts about being burned in a fire. I had no idea that that one speech would be the first step toward a new career path, and that my life would pivot so wildly at age twenty-seven. But if I had believed that it was too late, that I was too old, that my path was set in stone and led in only one direction…well, you certainly wouldn’t be reading this book.
So I sent my friend’s son on his way with that question, and prayed he would listen to a different voice and pursue a path that lit him up with excitement for his life.
My friend, whose voice, opinion, or “expertise” defines and limits your life?
What might happen if we had the guts to disagree with the voices that have held us back? What might happen if, when told we’re too old or too young, too inexperienced or too insignificant, we boldly responded: Says who?
I’ve met countless individuals who have refused to let age or expectations limit their lives. Perhaps my favorite example is Marie Dorothy Buder.
At age fourteen, Marie heard a voice calling her into a vocational life as a religious sister. Though her parents had other plans for their daughter, by age twenty-three she formally entered a convent.
Sister Buder spent the next several decades serving the downtrodden in her community. She loved her work and felt totally committed to her life as a servant of God. But she sometimes felt plagued by an ill-defined anxiety. A good friend suggested that she try running. It might help to get outside and exercise her body each day.
Sister Buder didn’t have any running shoes. In fact, she had never owned a pair. So she borrowed some from a fellow nun and went out for the first run of her life. She was forty-eight years old.
As she slowly put one foot in front of the other, at the pace of a gentle jog, she loved the way running made her feel. She relished the breeze on her face. She enjoyed the singing of the birds. She even loved the fatigue her muscles experienced as she made her way back home. So she made a commitment to go running the following day. And after that second run she was determined to go out again.
In the four decades that have followed, rare are the days when she doesn’t lace up those shoes and go for a run.
But I tell you this not because she is a nun who occasionally runs in her free time. I tell you about Sister Buder because today she is eighty-seven years old and has run more than three hundred and fifty marathons. She is called the “Iron Nun” because she has also run several dozen Ironman races, an absurdly difficult test of physical endurance reserved only for the truly courageous and slightly delusional. It begins with a 2-mile swim followed by a 112-mile bike ride. Oh, and then you run a marathon, 26.2 miles, to top it off. World-class, well-trained athletes spend years preparing for this race. The vast majority of participants never cross the finish line.
Sister Buder is one of those indomitable athletes who has crossed the finish line. In fact, she has completed the race more than a dozen times, and at the spry age of eighty-two, became the oldest person to do so.
Seriously. I hope you didn’t just spit out your coffee!
I know many forty-two-year-olds who get winded walking through the grocery store. Conventional wisdom, common sense, and well-meaning friends would argue that no one should be attempting an Ironman at age eighty-two. But Sister Buder dares to disagree.
I had the pleasure of taking her out to lunch to discuss why she keeps running. With a shimmer in her eyes and smile on her face, she told me that running brought her joy, and racing gave her confidence. The reason she still runs, though, was more about mission and recognizing that her simple willingness to show up at races encourages others to keep going in theirs.
As a young girl, she didn’t listen when her family pleaded with her not to waste her life on a vocation. At forty-eight, she refused to listen to the voice saying it was too late to begin running. At eighty-two, she didn’t heed the advice of the experts when they suggested she’d never finish the Ironman at that age. Nor does she listen now when others encourage her to slow down, to accept her age, to hang it up.
Not a chance. A very different voice guides her steps than guides many of ours. But that doesn’t have to be the case.
So, who are you listening to that holds you back? Who in your work, family, or network keeps reminding you it can’t be done? While we all need to listen to the voices of others along the journey, we ultimately need to be guided, inspired, and driven by the voice of truth. You have the capacity, the ability, and the power to disagree with their opinions. You have the authority to wonder: Says who? And you have the faculty to surge bravely forward with dreams of your own.
All right, you may not want to lace up a pair of running shoes to achieve those dreams, but know that the voice we choose to listen to influences the quality of the race we run. So ask yourself: Where in my life have I let limiting beliefs keep me from going after what I truly want? In a relationship? In my career? And where have I let what others deem impossible hold me back?
There will always be people trying to influence your direction or judge your actions. But just because the “experts” say it can’t be done doesn’t mean you have to listen.
For generations, scientists claimed that to run a mile in under four minutes was physically impossible. The well-documented research of the day proved indisputably that the oxygen debt that would build up in the human body would be too great. The body would begin to shut down due to lack of oxygen, and the runner would be at risk of death.
A British medical student named Roger Bannister set out to prove them wrong.
Using his medical background, Bannister knew the key to breaking the four-minute mile was to manage his oxygen level throughout the race. That’s what all the experts claimed was the challenge. To the critics and denigrators who considered it an impossible feat, Bannister replied: Says who?
He began to measure his oxygen consumption religiously during his training. He quickly learned that he used less oxygen when he ran consistent lap times than when he altered his pace. If he was going to break the record, he would need to run at the same speed for each of the four laps.
After careful documentation and months of training, on May 6, 1956, at a track meet at Oxford University, Bannister laced up his running shoes and did what had previously been declared impossible: He ran a mile in 3 minutes 59 seconds.
His feat instantly became front-page news around the world. The unbreakable record, the impossible barrier, had been broken. It was a breathtaking achievement.
Here’s the most amazing aspect of his feat: His record in the mile run lasted just forty-six days before another runner ran the mile even more quickly.
Think about that: A goal that had been pursued for decades, regarded by experts as simply impossible, was finally achieved, only to be surpassed six weeks later. And it was broken three more times that same year. Today, the feat has been accomplished by thousands of runners, even high school students.
All thanks to one man, who was willing to say: Says who?
While Bannister displayed amazing discipline, training habits, and athletic prowess, the real lesson Bannister taught humanity that day was about not the body but the mind.
What we listen to, we believe.
Whose voice are you listening to…and who says they’re right?
If the news as presented by the media is bringing you down, stop watching. If your friends and co-workers are too often naysayers, challenge them to change, or find new friends. And if the voice in your head is whispering negativity, it’s high time to replace it with a new song.
What would happen if, when you are told you can’t do things or you can’t handle a certain task, you dared to disagree? To engage your sense of wonder and say: Says who?
Not like a petulant child, with disrespect for authority. But with a kind, curious, adventurous spirit, simply pushing back against or testing the limits.
Once we are no longer afraid to challenge the status quo, we’ll start to see possibilities around every corner.