Colin OBrady - The 12-Hour Walk : Invest One Day, Conquer Your Mind, and Unlock Your Best Life

New York Times Bestselling Author of The Impossible First

Colin OBrady

The 12-Hour Walk

Invest One Day, Conquer Your Mind, and Unlock Your Best Life

OBrady is a master class in athleticism, resilience, and human potential.

HODA KOTB, NBCs Today

IN MEMORY OF

JP, Ali, John, Atanas, Sergi, Antonios, and Dixie

Thank you for always singing your songs.

You are all forever alive in my heart.

I only went out for a walk and finally concluded to stay out till sundown, for going out, I found, was really going in.

JOHN MUIR

Possible Mindset noun

\ p-s-bl-mn(d)-set \

an empowered way of thinking that

unlocks a life of limitless possibilities.

The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation.

HENRY DAVID THOREAU

W hat if I told you Id found a way to help you live a more fulfilling life?

What if I could send you on a journey that would leave you feeling like you can accomplish just about anythingthat would teach you how to shed the limiting beliefs that are holding you back, and instead unlock your best life?

Heres the best partwhat if you could complete that journey in just a single day?

My heart raced and I struggled to breathe.

Moments before, a confident strength had propelled me toward the summit slopes of Mount Everest, but in an instant everything had changed, shattering my calm demeanor.

I was now fighting for my life.

Blue sky turned to ominous gray, and what had been a gentle breeze became thunderous gusts of fifty-mile-per-hour wind, nearly blowing me off my feet. The snow whipping around my face stung the exposed sections of my skin like a thousand tiny needles. I couldnt feel my fingers or my toes as the windchill plummeted below negative sixty degrees.

Gripped by fear, I found each step hard-earned. I stumbled through the Death Zone, an area above 26,000 feet that owed its notorious nickname to the fact that, at such an altitude, the human body slowly dies.

Wait did you see any dead bodies on Everest? a gray-haired man asked me from the corner of the room.

As I continued to share my stories of adventure, more and more questions came flying at me.

How did you go to the bathroom when it was minus-thirty degrees in Antarctica?

Forty-foot swells, in a twenty-eight-foot rowboat? How do you survive that?

The questions were coming at me, left and rightquestions Id heard before, but this time they were being asked by a group of enormously successful menhedge fund managers, industrial tycoons, and billionaire investors. Unlike the mostly younger or middle-aged folks who pepper me with questions after my keynote addresses and other public appearances, these men had reached an age where the roads defining their lifes journeyavenues paved in goldtended to be in the rearview mirror.

We were seated around a dining room table in a glamorous penthouse apartment on Manhattans Upper East Side. I was in town to speak to several hundred Wall Street executives about mindset, taking risks, and overcoming obstacles, and Id been invited here on the eve of my speech to visit with a select group of themCEOs mostlyin a more intimate setting.

A few minutes earlier, it had been uncertain that Id even make it into this room.

I was running a few minutes late as I hastily stepped into the buildings opulent lobby and searched for the elevator.

Over my shoulder I heard a firm voice, Where do you think youre going?

Im headed up to the penthouse, I explained to the doorman whod suddenly appeared behind the lobby desk.

Um, no youre not.

Im expected, I said. For a dinner party.

The guy checked me out again. I was wearing jeans, low-top Jordan sneakers, and a black T-shirtnot the dress-for-success attire he was used to seeing. He pulled a slip of paper from his pocket and studied it carefullysome kind of guest list, I imagined. Then he shook his head in that satisfied way, thinking hed confirmed his original impression. Look, son, if youre with catering, you need to use the service elevator.

Maybe you can call upstairs, I suggested.

Begrudgingly, the doorman picked up the phone and mumbled something I couldnt quite hear. Then he hung up and said, You have a nice evening, sir. With a wave of his hand, he motioned me toward the elevators at the far end of the lobby.

I certainly hadnt expected my hosts to roll out the red carpet, but neither did I think Id have to jump through hoops just to be allowed upstairs. Ill admit, my confidence was a bit shaken as I stepped into the elevator. It was one of those crazy-fancy Manhattan buildings where the elevator opened directly into the apartmentin this case, a palatial home with breathtaking views of the city, overlooking Central Park.

Once out of the elevator, I stepped into a room in which seven or eight men mingled over drinks. They were impeccably groomed, dressed in custom-tailored suits, andI couldnt help but noticesome wore watches worth more than it had cost to fund my last expedition. One gentleman approached me almost immediately and introduced himself as my host.

So glad you could make it, Colin, he said, firmly shaking my hand. He seemed friendly, yet there was in him something of the doormans attitude. I sensed he was questioning my choice of attire.

As I took my seat at a large oval table laid out with polished silverware, a waiter stepped over to fill my wineglass.

Our host clinked his own crystal glass, and the room fell silent as everyone settled into a chair.

Most all of us here know each other, the host saidboth to me and the rest of the group. Weve been screwing each other out of deals for forty years.

The line was followed by a wave of good-natured laughter, backslaps, and shouts of Hear, hear!

There followed another bit of glass-clinking from the host, and as the room quieted again, he said, Regardless, I thought it would be a good idea if we went around the table and introduced ourselves.

One by one, each guest shared a line or two of introduction. As they spoke, I started to think that theyd arrived by way of Central Casting. They were all male, all white, all about sixty-five, all graduated from the finest schools and dripping with money.

It wasnt my usual crowd.

In fact, Id been raised by strong-minded and independent womenmy mother, my five older sisters, and my grandmother. And now I was married to another strong womanmy wife, Jenna Besawwho ran our businesses and helped to organize every last detail of our projects.

With no women in sight on this evening, it felt like something important was missing.

As the introductions continued, I wondered what Id say when I had the floor. As it happened, Id gone to Yale, like a lot of the men whod already spokenand Id even worked as a Wall Street commodities trader for a very brief stint after graduation. So my plan at first was to reach for common ground. But then I checked myself. Common ground? Who was I kidding? Prior to Yale, Id been a public school kid from Portland, Oregon, raised by a blended family of hippie parents in a lower middle class part of the city. When the Yale swim coach called to recruit me, my first question was Yale where is that?