The Unintended Consequences of Showing Up
An EntrepreneurSHIP lesson from a dock, a hydrofoil, and a stranger
I’ve been deep in learning all the different ways to foilboard.
Behind a boat.
On open water.
And most recently, off a dock.
If you’ve seen dock starts on Instagram, you know how this goes. Someone jogs a few steps, hops on a board, the foil lifts, and suddenly they’re floating above the water like it’s nothing. Clean. Effortless. Casual.
What Instagram doesn’t show you is how brutally difficult it actually is.
I showed up to the dock with my board and foil, fully aware that I was stepping into the “hard part.” That’s actually what pulled me in. I like learning things that don’t come easy. I like the challenge. I like the process of figuring it out.
My first session was humbling. See for yourself…
I didn’t get it.
I didn’t pop up.
I didn’t magically take flight.
But I tried.
And when I packed up that day, I told myself something I’ve told a lot of other people over the years:
Just show up.
It’s a simple idea, but a bold one. Showing up puts you in motion. It keeps you focused on practice instead of perfection. It gives you something real to react to instead of something theoretical to think about.
So the following weekend, I was back.
This time I came prepared. I had studied footage from my first attempt. I watched what wasn’t working. I paid attention to my body position, timing, and foot placement. I was more intentional.
I did better.
Still didn’t make it.
Still didn’t lift.
Still didn’t “get it.”
But I could feel progress. Subtle progress. The kind you only notice when you’re paying attention.
And that was enough to keep going.
After the session, I was dismantling my board and packing up when someone came down the ramp toward me. I hadn’t seen him before, but he walked up like he knew me.
He was wearing a hat that said “OC Foils.”
He said hi, then paused, and said something like, “Wait… you’re not who I thought you were.”
Turns out he was a foilboarder too. He had been driving over the 2nd Street bridge and saw me down on the dock trying to start. From above, he thought I was one of his friends. So he pulled over to say hello.
Mistaken identity.
But instead of an awkward moment, it turned into an introduction.
He introduced himself. We talked foiling. And then, without hesitation, he started offering feedback on my technique. Or, more accurately, on my lack of technique.
He shared how he practices. How he trains. He even told me about a setup he built with a track and wheels to simulate dock starts on land, so he could build the right muscles and movement patterns without constantly falling into the water.
He gave me specific exercises. Practical drills. Things I could actually work on.
At one point I said, “Can I grab your cell number? I need a foiling friend.”
I told him the truth. No one I know is dock starting. I’m just out here trying to figure it out on my own.
He laughed and said, “Oh, you don’t have to do it alone.”
Then he told me he and a group of foilboarders have a WhatsApp group called Long Beach Dock Starters. I asked if he could invite me.
He did.
When I got home later that day, I told my wife, Cyn, how it went.
I told her I still didn’t make it.
I told her I made a little progress.
And then I told her the real win.
“I made a new foil friend.”
That friend didn’t just give me advice. He connected me to a community.
Once I joined the group, I introduced myself and shared a couple of videos from my attempts. Within minutes, people were chiming in with encouragement, feedback, and observations.
And then one message landed hard.
Someone pointed out that I might not be using the ideal foil for dock starting.
That could be the root of the problem.
And suddenly everything clicked.
Yes, I showed up to practice.
Yes, I got a little better on my own.
But the real growth, the real acceleration, came from something I never planned for.
The unintended consequence of showing up.
If I hadn’t gone to the dock that day, that guy wouldn’t have seen me from the bridge.
If he hadn’t mistaken me for a friend, he wouldn’t have stopped.
If he hadn’t stopped, we wouldn’t have met.
If we hadn’t met, I wouldn’t have gotten feedback.
If I hadn’t gotten feedback, I wouldn’t have been invited into the community.
If I hadn’t joined the community, I wouldn’t have learned that my equipment might be holding me back.
Showing up didn’t just give me practice.
It gave me people.
This is exactly how EntrepreneurSHIP works.
Most people think progress comes from grinding in isolation. They believe if they just work harder, longer, or smarter on their own, everything will eventually click.
Sometimes it does.
Often it doesn’t.
What actually moves things forward faster is visibility. Presence. Being in the arena.
When you show up consistently, people notice. They start to recognize your effort, your curiosity, your persistence. And when that happens, doors open that you didn’t even know were there.
A mentor notices you asking good questions.
A peer introduces you to a better tool.
Someone with more experience points out a blind spot you couldn’t see.
Not because you asked for help.
But because you were there.
Showing up creates surface area for opportunity.
And here’s the part most people miss: you don’t get to choose how the help arrives.
You can’t plan the chance meeting.
You can’t schedule the mistaken identity.
You can’t script the moment someone says, “Hey, have you tried this instead?”
All you can do is show up.
Over time, this compounds. Each appearance increases the odds of connection. Each connection increases the speed of learning. Each lesson reduces wasted effort.
It’s a magnifier.
The longer you keep showing up, the less alone you are. And the faster you move.
So here are a few practical takeaways you can apply immediately, whether you’re building a company, a skill, or a new direction for yourself:
1. Show up before you feel ready.
Readiness is overrated. Motion creates clarity. Practice creates feedback. Feedback creates progress.
2. Be visible in the places where learning happens.
Online forums. Events. Workshops. Docks. Rooms where people who care about the craft gather.
3. Share your attempts, not just your wins.
People help when they can see what you’re actually doing. Vulnerability invites guidance.
4. Assume you’re missing something important.
Often it’s not effort or talent. Sometimes it’s simply the wrong tool, approach, or perspective.
5. Let community shorten the learning curve.
You can go far alone. You go further, faster, with friends who know more than you, have done it longer, and see it differently.
EntrepreneurSHIP isn’t built by waiting for perfect conditions. It’s built by showing up again and again, trusting that effort creates momentum, and momentum attracts allies.
You don’t always get what you came for.
Sometimes you get something better.
Show up.
Pay attention.
And stay open to the unintended consequences.