The Courage to Show Up When You Can’t Control the Outcome

“Vulnerability is not winning or losing; it’s having the courage to show up and be seen when we can’t control the outcome.”
— Brené Brown

The first time I read that line, I felt it as a bodily truth — the kind that lands in your sternum like a stone dropped into deep water.

Because if I’m honest, almost every meaningful moment of my life has required exactly that:
Showing up before I felt ready.
Stepping forward without guarantees.
Staying visible even when my stomach was in knots.

And every time, some part of me asks the same exasperated question:
“Jess, why do you keep putting yourself in situations that scare you?”

In my business.
On the river.
In leadership.
In relationships.
In the wilderness.
In front of rooms full of people.

And the answer is always the same:

Because choosing discomfort is how I stay alive in my own life.
Not just breathing — alive.
Awake.
Engaged.
Growing.

Some of us chase comfort.
Some of us chase edge.
My spirit has always known which camp I belong to.

I Wasn’t Always Built This Way

People see me now — guiding, teaching, leading, rowing big water, building a business from scratch — and assume I’ve always been this brave, this bold, this comfortable in the unknown.
Not even close.

When I was fourteen, my family and I hiked the Continental Divide Trail — 3,100 miles through some of the most exposed, unforgiving terrain in the country. I was the youngest person to complete it at the time. And before we even took a single step, I was resolutely certain my body wasn’t going to handle it.

I was a full-on pessimist about the entire endeavor.
I thought the adults were wildly overestimating me.
I didn’t believe I had the grit, the stamina, or the internal steadiness to survive a journey like that.

But then the miles started stacking up.

On the trail, stripped of all the stories I’d told myself about what I could or couldn’t do, I discovered something entirely different: despite my mindset — despite the fear, the doubt, the absolute conviction that I wasn’t built for this — I was far more resilient and capable than I had ever imagined.

My body rose to the challenge.
My mind learned to meet the discomfort instead of fighting it.
Somewhere in the daily rhythm of walking, something shifted in me.

That was the first time I understood that courage isn’t something you’re born with.
It’s something that emerges when you keep showing up anyway.

I didn’t just survive the discomfort — I loved what waited on the other side of it.
Riding fast down gravel roads.
Flying down ski courses.
Finding my legs under pressure.
Feeling proud of myself in ways comfort never gave me.

Without realizing it, I was learning the foundational truth Brené Brown articulates so beautifully:

Courage isn’t about controlling the outcome.
Courage is showing up anyway.

Let Go of What’s Familiar

Every year, the river reminds me that I cannot cling to my old ways and keep growing.

This spring, the scout eddy above a rapid I know well was completely packed — boats stacked three deep, guides shouting angles, no space left to slide in or grab the bank. That eddy is usually my grounding point, my ritual pause before committing. But on that day, wedging myself in was impossible.

I had two choices: force something that wasn’t going to happen, or trust myself and go.

So I ran the line.

My heart raced.
My body braced.
But I committed.

And it was clean.
Fun, even.

A reminder that familiarity is not the same as safety — and novelty is not the same as risk.
Sometimes the river fills the eddy so you’re forced to discover what you’re capable of without your usual comforts.

Show Up Before You’re Ready

I hear this all the time:

“I want to take your course, but I need to get better first.”
“I want to row Class III before I sign up.”
“I’ll join the next round once I feel more confident.”

And every time, I want to shake them gently and say:

No one ever feels ready. That’s not how courage works.

Stepping forward before you feel prepared is how you become prepared.
It’s how you gain:

• Feedback
• Coaching
• Experience
• Perspective
• Momentum

Waiting for readiness is a beautifully disguised form of fear.
Jumping in early is where transformation happens.

Make More Attempts Than Other People Make Expectations

Perfectionism is a trap disguised as self-protection.

On the river, mistakes aren’t failures — they’re skill builders.

Missing an angle, blowing a line, flipping a boat, botching a move — all of it is information. Your body learns from doing, not from fantasizing about flawless execution.

If you want to grow faster, you have to be willing to:

• Try before conditions are ideal
• Miss the move
• Learn the lesson
• Try again
• And again
• And again

The most capable people you know simply failed more times than anyone else was willing to try.

This Is What It Means to Be a Creature of Discomfort

It means:

• Abandoning the methods that once felt safe
• Showing up before you feel ready
• Making more mistakes than your ego prefers
• Staying visible even when the outcome isn’t guaranteed
• Trusting yourself enough to grow publicly
• Choosing to stay in the arena

This is why I do the work I do — because I know firsthand that the biggest breakthroughs happen inside discomfort, not outside of it.

Growth doesn’t live in your comfort zone.
It lives in the wild edges — and that’s where we’ll meet.