A few months ago, I needed to come back to the states from London, but I refused to take a red-eye. I chose a 90 minute connection at JFK (to get through customs and checkin) over having to sleep next to 100 other people on an overnight flight.

“I have TSA precheck," I insisted. "So it should be no problem.”
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The night before this epic connection to be made, my pals and I got to our London hotel at close to 2 a.m. A few hours later I woke up, disoriented and sleepy, to some news. My flight to JFK was delayed. By an hour. The epic connection was in great danger.

I remember laying there in bed, with anger and disbelief washing over me. I was aching to see my family. To get home. I didn’t want to spend one more night at an airport hotel. More than anything, I didn't want to resign myself to a sad day.

At that moment, I made a decision.

I was going to do everything in my power to make this connection. I was going to hold onto hope.

I had an entire flight from Stansted to JFK to look at the terminal map and plan it out. Running through the motions in my head, it was very clear that I was going to have to be a borderline rude loose cannon to make this happen.

I'd be the one with the wild look in her eye — panting and hair unraveling — running on the moving walkway, forcefully racing through lines, and tapping everyone on the shoulder to ask if she can budge. And I decided this was the right tradeoff for me to make.

Here's what happened next.

About halfway across the Atlantic, I asked the attendants if they could make an end-of-flight announcement to allow anyone with a connection to deplane first.
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One attendant said "We don't do that because nobody every listens."

Then she asked for the details of my connection. When I told her, the response was something like “Yeah, there’s no way you’re going to make that.”
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I smiled at her. And I decided, again. "Watch me."

I don't care how many times she's done this. Something inside me knew that her mindset was the regular-person mindset.

My internal dialogue? If I don't believe her, there's a possibility that I can make this thing work.

Meanwhile all of my possessions were in a hefty carryon. (I had done extensive research to buy the largest possible carryon to bring on this trip.) I was going to have to hoist the beastly hardshell with me through two terminals and AirTrain.

As the plane landed, I shoved the belongings on top of my head, and said “excuse me, tight connection” repeatedly as I plowed my way through the plane aisle. (I may or may not have clocked someone a bit on the way out of the plane. They were okay, promise.)
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I held a Polaroid of my desired outcome in my brain. And I ran. Through customs. Through TSA Precheck. And, to the departure gate, which had spontaneously shifted to be the farthest possible distance from me. (Oh, and my workout regimen consists of yoga and long dog walks. I was not conditioned for this.)
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There was cursing, sweating, and panicked questions to passerby about whether I was racing in the right direction.

But during the rush, I think it’s fair to say: the seas parted.

I didn’t get one stink eye at customs. People kindly let me by.

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The family already onboard AirTrain laughed when I said the F word in front of their Kindergartener.

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The security agent saw my ticket time and rushed me through the metal detector.

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There was room for me to run on every single moving walkway.
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When I got to gate 47 at the very end of Terminal 8 (which is 2x the size of Madison Square Garden), it was very peaceful. Not a soul left to board but me. And it was exactly three minutes before closing. The gate agent told me so.
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My throat hurt from breathing so hard. And I had definitely pulled a hammie.
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It felt like everyone already comfortably seated on the Airbus looked up as I skated into my seat just in time.

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I even sat next to a super nice pilot who had made that connection many times before. He fully celebrated me because he got what I had pulled off.

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So this story here? It's a crash course in making shit happen for yourself.

Your why can move mountains.

Your why can make the impossible, possible.

And if you take one thing away it's this:

We all have stopping points where we say “too much,” “not going to happen,” “irrational.”

A very healthy thing to do? Question those voices.

Your most expansive, incomprehensible dream life exists in a world where you don't believe in all that hooey.

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One of my teachers, the incredible Emma Dunwoody, once said to me “You have to be willing to do what 95% of people are afraid to do.”

Here's how I see that: You have to keep the faith in your why to a degree that normal people might find naive, irrational, crazy, or dumb.

If, in pursuit of my why, as I stretch into a greater version of me, I am willing to get messy, feel uncomfortable, or in the case of this story — look like a lunatic — the clouds will part. It might not happen immediately, but mark my words, things will work out eventually.

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If you’ve made the decision to be something or do something that’s outside your comfort zone, keep an eye out for the naysayers, and your own debilitating thoughts.

You’re at an inflection point. Something great is waiting for you.

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What’s your why?

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XO

C

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P.S. Want to hurtle through a proverbial packed terminal with me? To expand into something the 3-years-ago you thought was impossible? Are you done believing those stories? Hit reply to book a call. (And yes, we can start this life-changing work even if you don’t know what “your why” is.)

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