In this edition of Author Talks, McKinsey’s Kimberly Beals chats with Gwendolyn Bounds, vice president of content and US media partnerships at SmartNews, about her book Not Too Late: The Power of Pushing Limits at Any Age (Ballantine Books/Penguin Random House, Spring 2024). Bounds explains how racing helped her redefine her perspective on living with purpose, embracing possibility, and building new personal and professional relationships. Bounds’s realization that it’s never too late to learn is a vibrant reminder that oftentimes, the journey matters more than the destination. An edited version of the conversation follows, and you can also watch the full video at the end of this page.
Why did you write the book?
We lean into our competencies. It’s something called the “competency trap.” Breaking out of that trap can have real benefits for our physical being, well-being, mental health, and professional and personal relationships. There’s very important science that substantiates this.
In part, I wrote the book to encourage people and to provide them the tools to determine whether they are caught in the same trap. They can determine if they are leaning into only their competencies and whether that’s holding them back from all they want to pursue personally and professionally.
The book is built around obstacles—a perfect metaphor for life and work. Why did you organize the book this way?
I thought of the book in three sections. The first section was really about my own understanding that I, too, was caught in a competency trap. I was in a cycle of sameness and leaning into work—and into the ways that I worked—very heavily. While I wasn’t unhappy, I wasn’t settled. Monday was blurring into Friday, yet the passage of time was pressing into me. I felt like there was something untapped. The first section of the book outlines the catalyst for my discovery and my pursuit of obstacle course racing as a sport.
Part two is about discovering the tools and the tactics, the edges and equalizers, that anybody can use to embark on a journey of mastering something new later in life. What are the big decisions—and even more important, the little decisions—that we make?
Part three is really about the powerful and unexpected ripple effect of this journey on my entire life. Interspersed within these sections are chapters about the actual challenges you’ll find in obstacle racing. Many of them are metaphors for life.
Heavy carries, like carrying something heavy, is about willpower and not giving up when on a long project. The spear throw is a masterclass in getting one shot at something, like that elevator pitch. Monkey bars are about adaptability: if they’re wet, you must pivot your technique in the middle of your effort. Can we do that in all aspects of our lives?
What were the crescendos you experienced while writing the book?
Some highs were about racing; other highs were about my evolution as a human. Some were about my own relationships. These crescendo moments are interspersed throughout the narrative. I really wanted to unpack the emotional resonance of becoming a beginner again and separating that from one’s established identity.
I wanted to unpack what it’s like to leave the safe confines of what you’re good at and immerse yourself in a new world where nobody cares what you’ve achieved or who you know. When I would train at a gym, the other people there didn’t know where I worked or that I’d interviewed some of the world’s biggest CEOs, appeared on Good Morning America, or had dinner at Donatella Versace’s house when I covered the fashion industry at the Wall Street Journal. They only cared about whether I could carry a heavy sandbag. How heavy a sandbag could I carry? Could I climb a rope? Could I keep up with others in circuit training?
I wanted to unpack what it’s like to leave the safe confines of what you’re good at and immerse yourself in a new world where nobody cares what you’ve achieved or who you know.
It was incredibly freeing because putting yourself in situations where you have to prove yourself over and over again is really good practice for the working world. This is true whether you’re changing jobs, leaving behind the safe network of people you know and the track record you’ve built, or even tackling a new industry, like AI.
Oftentimes we hear about “getting in the zone” and “finding your flow.” I didn’t find flow. I knew a little bit about it from being in the zone writing. I had never felt anything close to that physically until I was 50 years old.
You mention ‘flashbulb memories.’ Were there any that didn’t make the cut?
I talk about “flashbulb memories” in the book, memories that we retain because they have extraordinary emotional resonance. Our brains hold onto them because of that resonance—and also because we might need those memories again at some point in the future.
A lot of my flashbulb memories are about feeling weak as a kid: being the last one chosen for a team, being the kid whose nickname was “Bones” on the basketball team. Those memories are about what it felt like when I finally got to play in a game where we were so far behind that we were going to lose anyway. I made one free throw shot. It stuck with me because I wanted to feel that again someday, that notion of my body actually doing what I asked of it in the moment.
One thing that didn’t make it into the book is a memory of the Presidential Physical Fitness Test we used to have to take in school. At school, I held myself up on a chin-up bar and remained there longer than any other kid. I wasn’t stronger, and I certainly wasn’t more fit. But I just had that grit and willpower because I had performed so poorly at other efforts. I remember that to this day. That’s one of the things that has fueled me in my career: having that grit.
The saying ‘you’ll know at the finish line’ seems simple, but it’s not.
I first heard the tagline of Spartan Race—“you’ll know at the finish line”—when I was considering racing. It’s a great marketing line. It has the promise of something unclear: what it feels like to have pushed yourself beyond something you thought was possible for you, to do something that terrified you, to give your all in the moment, and to have no regrets about it.
The realization made me cry when I crossed the finish line because there I was, a “nobody racer” at age 47. I wasn’t going to stand on the podium. No one was going to write about what I did. Yet everything in my DNA changed in that moment.
You don’t mention work all that much. What went into the decision to focus on the personal side of your journey?
“Gwendolyn Bounds”—or “Wendy Bounds”—“journalist from the Wall Street Journal” or “from Consumer Reports” or “from ABC News”: these were the monikers that I used to describe myself most readily. Work was always my A plot.
Yet in the book, work became my B plot. I would touch the baby calluses developing on my hands in the middle of an 83-page PowerPoint presentation. I would secretly climb stairwells up to the roof while I was with Consumer Reports and do push-ups. This was diversifying the portfolio of who I was by being an obstacle course racer.
That’s beneficial in so many ways, and it can make you more successful at work—in breaking out of this competency trap. Whether intentionally or unintentionally, that’s why work is the B plot. The first time that I ever ran a race was the first time that all other thoughts and concerns just went away. That was a gift.
Daily we mull over so many things, such as, “Did I nail that presentation?” “That colleague said that really annoying thing to me at work.” “Are we actually going to ever have an IPO?” You can’t think about that when you are breathing at your limit and trying to climb a 17-foot rope while someone is chasing you.
How has obstacle course racing expanded your network in unexpected ways?
When you embark on anything new, you begin to bring a group of people into your life that wasn’t already there. I had a lot of friends and mentors in business and in media. But now I have a group of people who have been coaches, who are elite athletes, who are much younger than I am, who are giving me advice and teaching me to find my own attributes and to use them. That’s a very powerful thing to have, particularly as you age.
I want to underscore the importance of having younger mentors in your life, particularly when you’re at a stage where you think, “Oh, I’ve done that. I’ve got the answers.” I have learned so much from my younger coaches and other athletes who could be young enough to be my children. They have really sharpened my sense of decision making.
How have you maintained the ability to make time versus have time?
There’s a temptation in our society to overhack and to overcomplicate time management. At one point in the book, I’ve pulled over on a back road on the east coast of North Carolina to respond to a work text. I see a farmer who’s on his tractor and moving down the rows of crops. I noticed that his hands were on the wheel of the tractor and he was staring straight ahead. I thought, “He’s not on his cell phone. He’s not checking Instagram or Facebook or Slack or anything; he’s not answering an email. He’s just going down the rows because if he doesn’t harvest these crops right now, his crop is going to die.”
I started to think about that. Don’t let your crop die. For me, that has meant paring down my obligations to what’s truly essential.
Don’t let your crop die. For me, that has meant paring down my obligations to what’s truly essential.
Were there any other surprises in the writing of or the response to the book?
One of the most profound things that struck me is the impact that movement can have when we age—not just on our bodies, but on our brains, our cognition. I spoke with one of the United States’ leading experts on aging, Steve Austad.1 He explained how science shows that you don’t have to start an exercise program when you’re younger for it to have real, powerful benefits. It’s great if you do. But starting a new program of movement in midlife can really interrupt some of the negative changes that are coming for us, both physically and cognitively.
Alex Hutchinson, an author who wrote a great book entitled Endure: Mind, Body, and the Curiously Elastic Limits of Human Performance [Mariner Books, 2018] shared a story that sticks with me. He told me an anecdote about a scientist who took a large group of frail, elderly people and put them on a six-month training program. They consumed a daily protein supplement and put on almost three pounds of new muscle. That’s extraordinarily hard to do at any age, but it’s really hard to do when you’re elderly. That gave me a real wake-up call that this isn’t just for nothing. This is going to have significant impact.
I saw that in my own life when I went through a DEXA2 scan. Between ages 50 and 51, I put on 3.25 pounds of lean mass. My doctor said, “My gosh, I’m going to tell everyone in this office to start obstacle course racing.” But the truth is that it’s not too late to start. The science behind it backs that up. I think it’s very heartening for all of us, and that has really stayed with me.
Is there an impression that you hope your readers get from the book?
I think if there’s one thing I hope people will take away, it’s that doing something where you have a chance of not succeeding is actually one of the most gratifying things a human can do. It’s counterintuitive, but I’ve come to believe it’s foundational not just for our happiness, health, and success but also for our longevity, based on the research I’ve read.
I want people to try and get out of their competency traps. I want them to recognize this will require looking foolish. It will require failing. But the rewards for doing so are probably greater than you can imagine—both for work and for your own well-being.
If there’s one thing I hope people will take away, it’s that doing something where you have a chance of not succeeding is actually one of the most gratifying things a human can do.
One thing that occurred to me throughout this process is that our ultimate success and well-being often hinges more on the little decisions than we think it does. Sometimes we think it’s about the big moments, such as, “Did I nail that investor pitch? How did the board respond to my presentation? Did I get the gold or the silver medal?”
But I truly think it’s about the very small decisions we make every day and how these little choices can add up to something big. “Did I spend ten extra minutes researching this person I’m about to meet with so I can find some common ground before we speak? Did I take a meeting with that young employee who wanted career advice when I was busy? Now that person is running a big company I want to do a deal with. Did I sign off on a decision to cut corners somewhere in our manufacturing process?”
“Did I get up and run in the rain even though my body hurts, my bed is warm, and I have big meetings today? Did I forego that second glass of wine because I have a race in three days? Have I remembered to put the needs of the people who I love before my own?” These little decisions are the things that actually add up to big change.
Watch the full interview
