I’m watching some movie where a kid falls through the ice. I’ve literally fallen through the ice twice. And figuratively more often than that.
The first time I fell through the ice I was a young teenager – and I drove a snowmobile onto a not-quite-frozen lake.
The second time was courtesy of the US Navy. I was in Boot Camp in Chicago, IL when I turned 19. Illinois drinking age was 21. So the Navy put us on buses and drove us to Wisconsin, where it was legal for us to drink.
And drink we did.
I woke up on Lake Michigan – being pulled off of a piece of floating ice. I was soaked, and probably wouldn’t have lived had I not been found before nightfall. I was also very, very drunk. Again, thank you Uncle Sam.
During the rescue I once again found myself in icy water. Clinging to yet another rope.
Those were the times I literally fell through the ice.
Figuratively I have fallen through the ice more often – betting on a boss, or a coworker, and having them fail to support you when it counts – that is falling through the ice.
Depending on a team of ex-employees (and now ex-friends) to help build a business is falling through the ice.
An interesting thing happens though – each time I get submerged in the ice I find it more tolerable. Invigorating, even.
I like walking on thin ice.
And sometimes, when you walk on thin ice, it breaks. I suggest you get accustomed to the sensation – or you find someplace more solid to walk.