The Climb: Why Your Comfort Zone Isn't the Enemy

By Tricia Scott.

It is, as of approximately right now, genuinely cold in this house. I have a hoody. I have a sofa and I have the particular kind of post-travel tiredness that sits behind your eyes, making everything feel just a little bit unreal. At the time of writing I've just arrived back through the night from Altea, Spain, and my body hasn't quite decided whether to be sad it's over or grateful it happened.

The answer is, of course, both.

When I was in Altea, it was 36 degrees, and the sea was the kind of turquoise that you only believe exists when you're standing in front of it. I woke up every morning to the orange sunrise and the sound of waves, which, for the record, is an extraordinarily good alarm clock and is making me reconsider my life choices about living somewhere with timetables. If you want to see what I mean, come find me on Instagram at @iamtriciascott.

Here's what I want to talk to you about today, though.

Altea has a church at the top of a hill called Parroquia Nuestra Señora del Consuelo (Parish Church of Our Lady of Consolation). It's old and beautiful, and the views from up there are showstopping. Every single day I was there, I walked up to it. Not because I had to. Not because it was on a to-do list. Because something about it called to me - the light, the quiet (at certain times) and the sense of perspective you only get when you're somewhere entirely different.

The streets to get there are steep, narrow, and cobbled. There are several routes to take, and each winds in ways that make you wonder if you've taken a wrong turn, even when you haven't. I stopped on the climb. A lot. Not because I couldn't keep going (debatable at times in the heat) but because every time I did, there was something worth stopping for. A doorway painted the exact right shade of blue or green. A woman tending to her geranium filled window boxes. A very cute tabby cat who wanted me to know this was her street and I was welcome, but only on her terms. (I obliged. Obviously)

I realised, on one of those little stops, that this is exactly what building a business feels like.

We keep climbing - not because it's easy, but because something about it calls to us. The achievement. The resilience that builds into your legs with every steep bit. The stronger muscles that only come from doing hard things. The view - which, I promise you, is always better than you imagined from the bottom of the hill.

And… the stops.

The stops are not a failure to climb. They are part of the climb.

The moment you pause and find something beautiful, a conversation you weren't expecting, a connection that reorients you, a tiny sassy cat who reminds you that not everything needs to be efficient - that is not time wasted. That is the whole point.

We spend so much time in business trying to reach the top without stopping. Treating rest as delay. Treating conversation as a detour. Treating beauty as distraction. Moving so fast through the steep bits that we miss everything that makes the steep bits worthwhile.

And then I came home.

Through the night, into the cold, onto this sofa and do you know what? It felt lovely. The familiar weight of my own duvet. The exact right Starbucks mug I've had more than ten years. The particular quiet of this house at that hour. My body said yes in a way it only can when you're somewhere that is deeply familiar.

And I've been sitting here thinking about how the entrepreneurial world talks so much shit about comfort zones like they're something to be escaped. Like the only valid version of growth happens outside them. We say it like it's gospel: get uncomfortable, stay uncomfortable, distrust the comfort. As if wanting to come home is somehow a sign that you're not trying hard enough.

But what if that's just not true?

What if the comfort zone isn't the enemy of the adventure; it's what makes the adventure possible?

I could climb that hill in Altea every day because I spent the rest of the day at the beach and was not permanently exhausted. I could say yes to new places, steep streets, and tiny cats on unfamiliar cobblestones because I also have a home to come back to. The restoration and the reaching aren't opposites. They're the same thing, working together.

Why are we so all-or-nothing with ourselves? Why does it have to be push through everything or you're being complacent? Why can't we be people who love the climb and love the sofa? Who seek the new and protect the familiar? Who know when to go and when to come home, and trust ourselves to know the difference?

You're allowed to have both.

So. Where are you in the climb right now?

Are you pushing through with your head down - which, btw, is sometimes exactly the right thing?

Or are you rushing past something beautiful because you've decided it doesn't count until you reach the top?

Or maybe - are you treating your comfort zone like a failure, when actually it's the thing that makes everything else possible?

The Rest Test continues, and this time it took me somewhere that felt less like a rest and more like a remembering.

I believe in you (always)

P.S. The sunrises from the beach were some of the most beautiful things I've seen this year. If you're thinking about where to go — head to Altea. Don't overthink it. Just go. And if you see a tabby cat on the way up the hill, please tell her I said pspspspsps.

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 Tricia Scott is the Founder and Editor-in-Chief of The Female CEO — a global platform, magazine, and community dedicated to helping women build confident, aligned, powerful businesses.

A startup mentor and multi-company director, she’s spent the past decade helping women move from overwhelmed and isolated to empowered and intentional.

Most days, she’s juggling her MacBook, her next big idea, and a very necessary caffeine supply. Connect with her at thefemaleceo.com.