Have you ever been to Tahoe?
If not, put that at the top of your travel To-Do List right now!
Granted, my travel experience is pretty limited, but this place was too pretty for words.
Another caveat… my experience may have been skewed by the fact that I got to stay in a $15.8 million mansion sitting at the highest point on the mountain, overlooking an impossibly gorgeous panoramic view of the mountains and the lake, with perfect weather in the 70’s every day.
More pics of the resort I stayed at Here:
(As I’m sure you’re wondering, yes, the mansion is on the market… and yes, I’d be willing to go get my real estate license reinstated to help you make the purchase.) 😉
Upon landing in Reno, I picked up my rental car and made the 1-hour drive towards Tahoe.
I realize en route that I’m going to arrive at the mansion 4 hours before check in… so I pull up my “All Trails” app on my phone and search for the nearest trail rated as “Hard”.
After arriving at my destination and craning my neck to view the top of the mountain, I decide it would probably be even “harder” and a lot more interesting to go off the beaten trail and instead try to go straight up the face of the mountain to its peak.
This is probably the kind of strategy that gets you mauled by a puma or bitten by a snake… but I promised my Bootcampers I’d try to sneak in an adventure if time allowed. 😉
I only encountered one snake on my path and spent the next 30 minutes clawing my way up the mountain on my hands and feet. The surface is all loose sand and gravel so with every step you lose some ground… the only way up, is to keep moving.
Imagine a 30-minute endurance session of incline slider mountain climbers… add in a thicket of bramble bushes for good measure and you begin to get the idea.
When I finally make it to the top, I get a rush of endorphins as I look out over the magnificent landscape and stop to smell the proverbial roses. It’s already been a worthwhile trip.
After making my way back down the mountain, I hop in my rental and make my way towards the mansion.
My little Yaris zig-zags up the mountain until there’s no road left. The mansion appears in front of me and I’m humbled to say the least.
And then, out of nowhere, a part of me whispers, “You don’t belong here.”
It’s the kind of thought that can crush your spirit.
The kind of thought that can eat away at you like a cancer.
The kind of thought that leads to other negative thoughts… encapsulates you in doubt… constricts air from your lungs like a ravenous python.
It’s a thought that may even seem objectively true.
I own a 900 square foot “mansion” at approximately zero feet above sea level in Dogtown.
Now I’m pulling up to a 17,000 square foot mansion, fully loaded, at a 7,000 foot elevation in Lake Tahoe.
By any objective metric, it would be easy to conclude that I truly am out of my league.
But I crush that absurd, limiting nonsense and declare emphatically in defiance, “Hell yes I do!”
Because it’s not enough to shrug off a negative belief.
Your mind doesn’t operate in a vaccuum.
You must replace the toxic thought with something more empowering.
Only story can overcome story. (It’s a lesson that will be repeatedly pushed at us over the course of our 3-day retreat.)
This is the kind of mental ninjitsu you half to play on a day-by-day, moment-by-moment basis.
You have to stand guard at the gates to your mind.
Because the seed of a thought may blossom into a briar patch that tears at your soul.
You can’t always control the thoughts that arise… but you can control the ones you entertain.
When the quality of your life is at stake, you must stay vigilant.
“I don’t belong here”… “I’m not good enough”… “I’m not a morning person”… “I don’t have upper body strength”… “I’m just unlucky”… “I’ll always be poor”… “I always mess things up…”
What starts as an innocent thought becomes your truth. Your conviction. Your identity. And ultimately your prison.
Until you introduce a new truth to take its place.
More cars arrive, introductions are made, and finally, the man himself, the host of the event, Ryan Fletcher, appears like royalty through the front door.
He’s taller than I expected (and leaner… a testament to his commitment to upgraded lifestyle habits)… but every bit true to the inspiring, foul-mouthed, online persona that I’ve been following for the last 6 years.
He declares there’s no room assignments, just a mad dash to claim a bed.
Believe me though… in a $15M mansion, even the couch or the stadium seating theatre room would be lodging that kicks the Holiday Inn Express in the teeth.
The first night is all introductions, unlimited libations, and pizzas stacked to the ceiling.
Fortunately, I came prepared with homemade trail mixes and CJ approved bars…
But it seems silly not to indulge in a couple of free drinks to loosen up and get to know my new group.
It turns out that my reputation precedes me.
This is a group of 90% real estate agents and I’m the resident trainer… a distinction that earns me instant recognition as the “Trainer Guy”.
I get to shake hands with Fletcher.
I get to shake hands with Sloper (Fletcher’s second in command).
I’ve listened to their podcasts… read their emails… followed them on Facebook… read their books… and studied their every maneuver for the better part of a decade.
They seem like they’re at the top of the mountain.
Visionaries… entrepreneurs… in a league of their own.
But now I’m literally on the mountain top with them.
They’re not elite. They’re not untouchable. They’re people just like me.
I’m reminded of the scene from “Rocky IV” where he’s facing the once, seemingly invincible Russian, and finally lands a blow that cuts his massive, towering opponent, drawing blood over the eye.
Rocky’s trainer drives home the mental victory in the corner,
“You cut him!… You hurt him!… You see… he’s not a machine! He’s a man!“
I can feel mental walls breaking down.
Or maybe it’s just the vodka breaking down my inhibitions.
In any case… I’m increasingly convinced that I do belong here… and I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.