I was out of the office recently, literally and mentally, after wrapping up Salon EPHJ. A few early mornings on the trails in Switzerland, wandering into uncharted terrain, gave me the reset I didn’t realize I needed. It’s wild what a little space, a few hills, and no schedule can do for a cluttered mind.
After twelve years of pushing the rock uphill, I’ve learned the signs of burnout. Running a small business isn’t for the weak. There’s always one more fire to put out, one more part to machine, or one more thing to finish. But out in the woods, none of that noise follows you. There’s no algorithm (though I still like to post my routes on Strava). Just flora, fauna, and a little breathing room.
Time slows out there. And I’m reminded that anything worth building, especially something meant to last, requires both patience and care.
Lately, the headlines in our industry have been loud. It’s tempting to get swept up in the fear, but despite all that, our waiting period is as long as ever. And when I’m off the grid, I remember why I started.
I didn’t build Weiss to chase trends or compete for hype. I built it to create.
My inbox is a bit of a mess right now (apologies if I owe you a reply), but my mind is clear. That’s the trade I needed, and I’m grateful for it.