Wimp Hill
by Linda Abraham

Now you have to understand, I am a klutz. Always was. Always will be. I am rapidly approaching the big 5-0 age threshold. I do not fit the image of young, athletic, and aerobically capable Nordic skier. But I love going to the Sierras and spending a few days attempting to propel myself through forests shrouded in white, picnicking in serene meadows, and visiting hushed frozen lakes.

Before venturing out on the trails on our most recent cross country ski vacation, I took a lesson and focused on overcoming my fear of going downhill. Now you downhill skiers would roll on the floor laughing if you saw what challenged me on my first day: a wimpy little hill. Maybe ten feet high at perhaps a 30-degree angle for a few of those feet. Despite its unimpressive stats, I wiped out -- flat on my face, sprawled in the snow -- whenever I attempted to go down that teeny-tiny slope during this lesson. So the instructor took me to a very gentle incline to work on my skills there. He also confirmed that despite my cowardice when going down, I really was pretty competent skiing flat or up.

My family and I spent the next few days exploring the trails and along the way we skied up and down a few hills that were much more challenging than the training hill that had tortured me on the first day. And you know what? On some of them I actually stayed upright! Some of them I didn't... but hey, I saw improvement.

On the last day of our trip after visiting a top-of-the-world viewpoint, I intentionally went to the training hill and skied down it without even a hint of fear, not to mention falling. A few minutes later when returning the skis, the woman behind the counter asked how we enjoyed ourselves and specifically whether we found the lessons worthwhile. I proudly announced my triumphant conquest of Wimp Hill, while admitting that I had wiped out on other more challenging slopes. She just smiled, nodded encouragingly, and said, "That's OK. You should wipe out. I always tell people that when they don't wipe out they're not trying anything new. They're not stretching or improving."

Her words contain a profound truth that goes beyond cross country skiing and even reaches the realm of MBA admissions. I am frequently asked why schools require essays about failures, regrets, or risks you have taken. The shopkeeper's response answers that question head on.

Schools want to see you have stretched, tried, succeeded, and yes even failed. They want to know you are willing to extend yourself. And that you have what it takes to pick yourself up after wiping out. In your failure essays, demonstrate you have the guts to try that challenge/hill again or to move on to another one with different scenery, benefits, challenges and rewards. But also show you can learn from wiping out and improve yourself.

By Linda Abraham, president and founder of Accepted.com . Linda is the author of Submit a Stellar Application: 42 Terrific Tips to Help You Get Accepted and co-author of The Finance Professional's Guide to MBA Admissions Success. She has been quoted in Businessweek, The New York Times, The Sunday Times of London, Business 2.0, The Washington Times, and other fine publications.
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