I’ve noticed a recent trend in the outdoor industry—ranging all the way from local clients to massive brands like The North Face and Burton—and it’s something I’m actually super stoked about.

Brands have upped their photo game.

The outdoor industry specifically is so extraordinarily visual (mountains, sunsets, ski shots, parking lot tailgate parties!) that companies who hire professional photographers or videographers look infinitely more professional, legitimate, and purchase-inspiring than companies who take a few shred shots with their phones on a Saturday afternoon and use these low-res, unedited files for their websites and marketing. 

By: Lisa Slagle

One of my favorite feelings in the world is when I'm strapped into my snowboard, standing on top of a cliff, getting ready to launch off of it. 

I'm comfortable in exposure like that, but I'm also just a little bit scared, and it's exciting. I'm about to let gravity and velocity take over, and all I can do is set myself up to clear any rocks in the landing, point it, enjoy the ride, and try to land on my feet, or as my brocabulary would call it: stomp it. 

If I stand there too long, thinking, worrying, analyzing, psyching myself out, I almost always chicken out and don't hit the cliff, or I ride too stiffly and crash. Conversely, if I don't pay attention to what I'm doing, I almost always misjudge the landing and hit rocks or crash, tomahawking down the mountain, hoping there aren't any trees in my path of destruction.  I love steep terrain. You get to see what you're made of.

Here's the thing-- I work with a lot of business owners. They put their hearts into their businesses, and I love working with them because of it.

The funny thing is, a lot of times, they seem to be waiting for the perfect moment, standing at the top of a cliff, waiting for the clouds to open up, the sun to come out, and the snow to be perfectly bottomless.

Let me explain. 

I frequently hear things such as, "Let's launch the website when the time is exactly right" or "I want to offer the perfect packages. They have to be perfect."  Or my personal favorite, "I'm coming up with something no one has ever done before. When it's perfect, we can design the marketing and put it out there."

Let go of perfection.

A few weeks ago, I was drinking coffee with a friend, laughing and bullshitting on the rooftop patio of my office, when she said, "Hold on--You run a business, teach at the community college, and play outside all the time. Now you joined a gym? Seriously, do you ever sleep? How do you find time for all this?"

I chuckled and shrugged, recalling the chaos of the late nights at the office, bike crashes, and deadlines of the past few days. Then a realization hit me, and I answered, "I show up."

Want to know something kind of embarrassing to put on the internet? When I mountain bike, I pretend I'm in a  scene out of The Hunger Games or LOST, and I pedal as fast as I can. It might look like normal trail riding, but in my head, I am launching off of boulders over imaginary alligator pits, escaping from villains, and leading Scout up and over ridge lines to safety. Oh, and making it to my truck in time to drive away from the massive, slow-motion explosion that happens in every other scene in Die Hard 4.  

Want to know why my brain works like this?

It's raining hard today, or at least enough to get me to stay inside and finally sit down and work on the Wheelie Creative Portfolio. It's months overdue. It's Saturday, so normally I'd be snowboarding, skinning, or mountain biking, but the rain talked me into actually focusing on my own business stuff. The work week is spent creating client work, and I've had a lot to catch up on with my own branding, so it feels good to dig into that. 

I sifted through thousands of files today, and was shocked by the volume of work I've produced over the last two years. It made me feel kind of good, actually, and those little, silent moments of victory are welcome surprises when they happen.  All it took was some rain.