January in Memphis means gray skies, cold rain, and that nagging voice telling you to wait until March to get serious about training. I hear it every year, and every year, I ignore it. 

Most runners I know treat winter like a grace period—a few easy months before the "real" training starts in spring. And look, I don’t blame them. As I’m writing this, Memphis is under a rare “Winter Storm Warning,” which means snow and ice. Not exactly our forte down here.

Now, am I going to go run in that? Unlikely. I’m not suggesting we forgo safety in extreme weather conditions. That’s just asking for an unwelcome injury. But uncomfortable conditions are a different story.

It doesn’t matter if we’re talking about ultramarathons or business ventures: the people who wait for perfect conditions rarely achieve what they're capable of.

I don’t know about you, but sometimes it seems like we perceive time at vastly different paces. December goes by in a flash of holiday cheer, while January is a cold, miserable slog. I swear this month should’ve been over a week ago, but here we are.

Still in January.

That snail’s pace can make everything feel a lot harder than it should. If you're leading a team right now, you might be seeing the signs: slower response times, shorter fuses, that glazed look in Monday morning meetings.

We're barely three weeks into the year, and some of your people are already running on fumes.

I used to treat January like some kind of corporate New Year's resolution—load up the calendar, commit to everything, convince myself this would be the year I finally got it all done.

Then I'd hit a wall mid-February, wondering why I felt like I'd already run a marathon when the year had barely started.

Sound familiar?

I finally figured out what I was doing wrong after the humbling experience of dropping out of the Keys 100 at mile 60. Turns out, the same mistakes that made me bail on that race were the exact ones I was making in business every January.

Most high achievers I know struggle with the same thing: we're terrible at quitting.

We're wired to finish what we start. We've been conditioned our entire lives to see quitting as failure, to push through pain, to never give up. That mindset serves us well most of the time, but it can also trap us into pursuing things long past the point where they make sense.

I've withdrawn from races. I've exited business partnerships. I've discontinued services that no longer align with our direction.

Some of my best decisions have been knowing when to stop—but it took me years to develop a framework for making those calls without ego getting in the way.