Aaron McHugh, Author at Aaron McHugh

11-Hour Fatigue Rule

My Uber driver in Iowa told him his story. He said that the reason he drove for Uber was that of the “11-hour fatigue rule”. He drives a big-rig diesel truck back and forth to Iowa City four or five days each week. After eleven hours of driving the union mandates that drivers are too physically and emotionally fatigued and for safety purposes, restrict from driving for twelve hours.

Yes, that means that my Uber driver drives a sixteen wheeler all day and then goes and picks up shifts with Uber and Lyft. I guess he loves caffeine.

Specific industries, airlines, railroads, and trucking have a mandatory fatigue maximum for their employees. On the receiving end, we are grateful to have a pilot who is well slept and free of chemical substances in his blood stream.

In the corporate world, there is no fatigue limit. Fatigue limits are well documented, with quantifiable proof on our impaired judgment and clarity. Effectively fatigue has the same effect as two glasses of wine. I find it very interesting that fatigue is rarely a part of corporate culture vocabulary.

The reason unions govern workplace requirements is that it is all too easy for progress to prevail over personal wellness. I’m not advocating for unions, I am an advocate of realistic limits that account for the adverse effects of excessive amounts of work on individuals. Stress, anxiety, high-blood pressure, obesity are all contributed to by exceeding the 11-hour fatigue rule.

Check out our Reboot Your Life Experiential Workshop October 13-15, Colorado Springs. Sign up details available here.

Seeing Our Ideas Through to Completion

Today, I saw a loch that a Duke carved out in the late 1700’s to connect a seven mile away coal mine to the city center. The plaque said he invested £200,000 pounds, nearing bankruptcy, the price of coal dropped by half, but he owned the shipping channel. Years later, he was earning￡70,000 pounds per year.

For the duke, his big idea worked. Like the Duke, we don’t always know if our plan will work, if it will pay off or how long it will take to catch on. Once we’re committed and we’ve already traveled half-way, invested for years, doubled-down then we should keep going and see our idea through to completion.

My Experience of Coming Home After a Week of Intensive Therapy

I felt anxious when the staff gave us back our phones. We were going home tomorrow, but I wasn’t sure I was ready. Onsite’s Living Centered Workshop helped me unravel the twines of trauma that kept me anchored in the past. For the first time in forty-three years, I had a diagnosis for why my life was repeatedly misfiring.

Cumberland Furnace, TN, became one of the safest places on earth, but I wasn’t sure my new tools would stand up to the test of my real life.

I called my wife, and she was gracious. She’d been through the Milestones program, so she knew what I was facing. I told her I was sorry for everything. “I was wrong. I didn’t know then what I know now”.

And so the journey began to re-engage my life, relationships, work, habits, and medicators (an Onsite term for the things we use to cope with life, e.g., alcohol), but now with a deep awareness of my path towards the life, I wanted.

Bill Lokey teaching on the effects of trauma (photo credit Onsite Workshops)

Two-degree shift

During the closing session, the Onsite team invited us to embrace one primary objective, to move forward with a series of two-degree shifts, and that we would find ourselves at our desired destination over time.

The temptation is to leave and start ejecting and blowing up parts of our lives. In reality, for most of us, our lives don’t require 90 degrees hard right turns, but instead a constant steady shift in increments of one to two degrees.

I later learned that for an airline pilot flying from LA to Hawaii, two degrees is the difference between arriving in Hawaii or missing the islands by 80 miles. Post Onsite I now know that I want a safe-on time-arrival at my life’s desired destination. I’m tired of feeling lost at sea, out of gas, and in a tailspin.

At first, even this subtle, constant question seemed impossible “What’s the two-degree shift now?”. Upon returning home, I remember how unpracticed I felt. I remember feeling like there were two different voices inside of me, two versions of myself that I could choose to enroll in every conversation and every situation.

My Choices: Two Options

Option 1: Listen to the self-assured guy I knew well (me coming into the program). He was well-practiced and sophisticated at doing life, getting stuff done, and not needing anything from anybody. His approach to life backfired, and he helped me (that part of myself) earn my lucky golden ticket to LCP (Living Centered Program).

Option two was this new guy, Mr. Two Degrees, that I loved. We knew each other a long time ago, and we reconnected at Onsite. He was happy, calm, and settled. He didn’t care much about outcomes or control; he cared more about being true to himself. His voice was a lot softer at first and sometimes harder to hear.

My new strategy for living

I began building in moments of pause to give myself a second to listen and give Mr. Two Degrees a chance to speak before I respond in a conversation or when making decisions,

Hey, Two Degrees, what do you think we should do here?

When I arrived at Onsite, I was 80 miles from shore, lost at sea, and nearing a tailspin. Two years later, life isn’t perfect, but I’m arriving more frequently at my desired destination with fuel in my tank and with the people I love at my side.

Check out our Reboot Your Life Experiential Workshop on October 13-15, 2018 Colorado Springs. Sign up details available here.

Donald Miller’s book, Scary Close: dropping the act and finding true intimacy, is based on his experience at Onsite’s Living Centered program.

*Post originally written in 2017 about my experience at Onsite in 2015.

A Sustainable Pace of Life

When I was ten years old my life was simple, unhurried and I lived at a walking pace of 3 MPH. I walked to a friends house. I rode my BMX garage sale bike. I did a few chores. I spent time with the people I loved most. I dressed up in camo fatigues. I practiced lighting bottle rockets and catching fire flies. My life was simple. The only hurry I remember was getting out the door for church on Sundays.

When I grew up, I got in a big hurry. A rush to be responsible, a rush to make enough money, a rush to get married and have kids. My life sped up and became like a bullet train going at 200 MPH. I traded in simplicity for progress and time for money. I adopted the beliefs that more was always better and the early bird gets the worm.

One of my mentors told me, “Walk fast in the office; people won’t stop to bother you if you look like you are in a hurry.” He was right; no one stopped me on my campaign to progress. Hurry became an external projection of an internal drive for more.

Here’s the deal: People like us get rewarded for being more efficient, more committed, more gritty than most. Our culture overvalues hurry and complexity. The bummer is that eventually we all tire of the 200 MPH pace of life, always on, always connected and always responding culture and we start day dreaming of slowing down, enjoying our life and not being so stressed out all the time.

At the beginning of our story, we were beautiful. Our lives were right sized with our soul’s capacity. If you could step through a time portal to visit your ten-year-old self, What did she love? What was most important to her? What made her happy? What did she want to be when she grew up?

I bet she was unhurried, purposeful and lived a sustainable pace of life. Maybe you should ask her?

The Empowerment of Choice

I’m a coffee snob. I prefer dark, black, strong coffee over office or hotel coffee. After I fired my boss, I gave myself smoke breaks, but I’m not a smoker. Instead, I’d fire up my backpacking stove in the trunk of my car and boil a mug of hot water to make a fresh cup of coffee.

No one gave me permission. No one said I couldn’t make coffee in the office parking lot.

Empowerment comes in the subtle edges of choice.

Today, I heard from a friend who caught a few waves in the Pacific after he dropped off his wife and daughter at the airport. He said, “I’m trying to catch small glimpses of joy in the middle of the day and not trying to make it last forever.”

Our Work, our life, our relationships, our play transform when we catch a small glimpse of the available joy amidst our challenges, our chaos, our limitations and our choices.

Adopting Minimalism Without Going to Extremes

I own more than one chair. I have two guitars, four pairs of pants, a couple of bikes and a shelf full of unread books. The Minimalists, two guys who write and speak about shaving down your belongings to the essential few, might not consider me one of their tribe.

However, after watching their Netflix documentary and listening to them on the Robcast, here are a few principles I’ve adopted because of them.

1) Choose your favorites and get rid of the rest.

My closet only has items that I love. Everything else went to Goodwill. We applied this idea to every area of our home our cabinets, my office, and even our Christmas decorations.

2) Reduce consumption.

I pause now every time I make a new purchase and ask, “Is this something I need? Will this add clutter?” My purchasing has significantly reduced as a result of adopting a joy-based belief that less is more.

3) Get rid of the old

I used to stockpile stuff. Three jackets, three pairs of running shoes and backpacks. Now, when I purchase something new, e.g., a pair of running shoes, the old pair is donated the same week to Goodwill. It is important to keep this one-for-one ratio to keep my life clutter free. One comes in, and one goes out.

4) Use what I have instead of purchasing “better.”

When version 2.0 comes out, I choose to use what I already own instead of paying for the newest version. My phone, my computer, my car are all outdated when viewed with a 2.0 filter. They all three work great even though they are not the latest models.

5) Repair before replacing

Thule wanted to send me a new backpack instead of fixing my zipper. I chose to find a local suitcase repair shop, spend $35 and fix the zipper that Thule didn’t want to correct. This week I’m sending in my Patagonia shell to their WornWear repair program.

Thule zipper repair for $35 instead of getting a newer model for free. I love my pack and wanted it fixed more than I wanted a brand new model.

Try Easy

I flipped the one-man outrigger canoe five feet from shore. It was my first time to attempt to paddle one of these small Polynesian water craft. I assuredly cranked my first paddle stroke with testosterone power plunging me upside down. I repeated the cycle with more grit with the same result. My Hawaiian friend ashore offered a kind word, “Try easy.”

Liz Gilbert writes, “We are the strivingest people who have ever lived. We are ambitious, time-starved, competitive, distracted. We move at full velocity, yet constantly fear we are not doing enough… Dear ones, EASE UP. Pump the brakes. Take a step back…My radical suggestion? Cease participation, if only for one day this year-if only to make sure that we don’t lose forever the rare and vanishing human talent of appreciating ease”. Committed: A Skeptic Makes Peace With Marriage, 2010.

Ease is a chosen state, selected gear to downshift into. For most of us, we fear that “easy” will not produce desirable results. We won’t win. We won’t achieve the metric. We won’t arrive at the destination on time. Ease is often the secret ingredient to unlocking new possibilities.

I downshifted this summer and let the taught line of progress slip away. I paused producing Work Life Play podcast. I spent a lot of time doing things I love with the people that I love. True to Liz Gilbert’s advice, “The world will still need saving tomorrow. In the meantime, you’re going to have a stroke soon (or cause a stroke in somebody else) if you don’t calm the hell down.” Amen sister.

Friends, find your easy gear and give yourself a break for a bit.

Dispatch: Climbing the Davis Face in Buena Vista, CO

My buddy Gill has one eye. He lost his sight in the other eye climbing in the Himalaya. Even as a cyclops, he’s gnarly. Two years ago, he led our mountain bike trip on the Colorado Trail from Durango to Denver. We met up in Buena Vista for a day of climbing to ascend the Davis Face, The Carter Classic 5.9 trad route.

Buena Vista, CO is my favorite mountain town. It has none of the hype of Breckenridge or Vail, but all of the uncrowded wilderness you want. Start at Brown Dog Coffee Company for a red-eye espresso. Pack your gear at Columbine Park just off HWY 24. Getting there: Follow directions from Mountain Project for the thirty-minute dirt road to North East of town.

The Davis Face, Carter Classic route in the distance

Carter Classic is a five-pitch trad route. Gill led most of the hard stuff. None of the climbing was overly complicated, but it was a little heady. Some of the moves required significant laybacks while placing cams in slots out of view.

Belay ledge on the Davis Face half way up

Pitches are up to 130 feet. Bring a pair of 70-meter ropes to rap off. Your last stop is to grab a beer and fresh meal at House Rock Kitchen on Main street.

Destination: Log From the Sea of Cortez Baja MX

image-bleed — Sea of Cortez from 20,000 ft. Photo credit: Matt McHugh

At 20,000 feet the ambient light within the aircraft cabin refracted the aqua blue from the Baja’s Sea of Cortez. Islands appear like cookie crumbles soaking in a tall glass of milk bobbing and then disappear from view. Wilderness awaits. Giant mammals swim 5,000 miles from the frigid Alaskan waters to deliver new calfs in safe harbors easing the arrival and genesis of humpback life.

Loreto, MX
Four stray dogs peak a nose of curious anticipation inside our door’s threshold asking, “Do you have something to share.” The cruise ship anchored in the bay is an outline of a boardwalk roller coaster framed by light-bulbs. Locals residents, dogs, and people live at a sauntering pace that puzzles us, gringos. How do they live so lightly?

Cuidad

The “Cuidad” city historical grid of rectangular cobble laden thoroughfares find cover by leafy green canopies stretching to handshake across the “Mercado” market.

“Iglesia” Church

A spiritual collective raised beyond the 1694 Chapels rafters encased in Jesuit salvation campaigns. From priests to prisoners, the reverb of soulful melody invited our spirits. The man with outstretched surrender frozen on the old mission’s step. Was he not entering for pause, respect, and timing of the ritual’s cadence?

Or was he struck-in worship-content to remain an observer-participating but not immersed? The “Iglesia” church was brimming with locals hand in hand-clasped one finger over the next, agreeing in song. We crossed the chapel doorway to join the prayerful surrender chorus.

Magdalen Bay Gray Whales

Yesterday we drove to the Magdalen Bay to scout gray whales and their newborn calves. Success. Dozens of whales- enormous and intimate. Watching mom and calf in sync wondering if their heart rate is synchronized-beat-beat-beat. The Mexican scouts were gracious and respectful of the ancient ones giving them room and space. Last night we were in a tent on the beach across the bay from Isla Del Carmen National Marine Park.

Weather dampens adventure

Twenty miles from Loreto. Rain and the wind. Private guide next time. Group travel is too slow for our taste. Food-amazing. Guides gracious. Paddled around little blurbs of water-low adventure. Still, can hear the highway.

Adventure Began today

We left behind the car camping beach of two nights and paddled south. Crusty, sandy, sun, rain while living outside. Awake by the natural rhythm of the sun and dark of night. Can no longer hear the downshift reverb of semi-trucks descending the canyon interstate, now only waves. God, my soul, knows you. My listening sextant finds you like a bearing on the horizon.

Forgetting what day it is

Found hermit crab wrapped inside a polished shell. Fun to care about simple things. My brother rolled his kayak yesterday, rescued by David our Mexican guide. Today we hiked and found a sandstone arch above an abandoned ranch along the burro trail. Old Winnebago parked with a lean-to sun porch.

Three nights on peninsula

Hikes, big sea paddle to hot springs. Twelve people, three guides. Mike from the bay area knows Rolf Potts. We name our nightly tequila and fresh limes “Baja midnight.”

The Ranch

We pulled out yesterday at The Ranch. Goats, cinder block houses, a toilet that flushed with a pale of water. Fresh fish-trigger fish taco lunch. Charro our guide very intentionally arranged with the ranch owner family to use the local economy for our resources. Fruits, papaya, cabbage, eggs, limes.

Back on land

Oasis Hotel-great simple accommodations.

This post was taken from my field journal during our sea kayaking trip on the Sea of Cortez. We used Paddling South-Sea Trek guide service $1,400 for six nights, seven days. Fly into Loreto, MX on Alaska Air.

Next time

Next time we won’t go with a big group. The Sea of Cortez is very accessible for moderately experienced sea kayakers. Bring more fresh limes and tequila. Stay a few nights on Isla Del Carmen island.

Teaching Corporate Guys to Play

I ran an experiment a few years ago. I invited two clients to fly to Colorado to join me for an “off-site” meeting. One of them was wound tight and would reply to emails at 2 am. He reminded me of the tin man in Wizard of Oz. Great guy, just a little stiff. His boss was easier to relate to, but he still drank the corporate kool-aid.

I knew if we went to visit them at their location, they would be running the stopwatch on our meetings. They ran all of their meetings with a meeting profile matrix. They applied a meeting type to an allotted maximum meeting length, e.g., quarterly reporting was allowed a fifty-minute maximum. It was incredibly impressive, but also stifled the meeting if it was exploratory.

They accepted and flew to Colorado for a structured thirty-six hours of discussions. In the morning I handed out menus and asked them to select their choice for a box lunch. I asked them to wear comfortable shoes and be ready to get out of the office.

I’d never tried this with clients. I always deferred to the safe, “Let’s order in and have a working lunch” or “Let’s continue our discussion over lunch” and walk to a restaurant nearby. We piled into my car, grabbed our turkey and swiss sandwiches, and I drove them to the trailhead.

They agreed to our micro-adventure with relief that no one back at corporate was here to witness them play.

In corporate life, some might think a hike as screwing off or dismiss this adventure as unproductive. I have found it is entirely the opposite.

Play gives us each an opportunity to let our shoulders down and chill out. Hiking shifts the dynamics of conversation to a more personal and relatable interaction mode. Board room conversations tend to be very structured, and people can keep their guard up.

When you get outside together, go for a hike or walk around a lake, people shift into a slower gear. When playing together, I’ve witnessed colleagues transition into real individuals who are more approachable, at ease and more transparent.

Skip the fancy dinner, get out of the conference room environment and get outside. Take a walk, go for a boat ride, visit a museum and find ways to incorporate play into your business life with clients.

My clients had never had an experience like this in their work life. I hope they remember how valuable it was to play together.