By Mac Bogert
I have saltwater flowing through my veins.
I learned to love the water through surfing, scuba diving, snorkeling, water skiing and, above all, sailing. The sea has been part of my life for as long as I can remember. I started crewing and then skippering one‑design racing boats—Penguins, Comets, Lightnings—worked in yacht charters and spent years as a charter and delivery captain.
What does that background have to do with leadership? A lot. Racing is a particular mode of sailing, and contrasting the mindset of racing with the broader experience of sailing reveals useful lessons about how we lead, how we learn, and how we perform under pressure.
Last spring I spent a week sailing alone. People’s first question was, “Where are you going?” My answer: I’m going out on my boat. When they pressed, asking “Where exactly?” I admitted I didn’t know and, more importantly, I didn’t especially care. The destination wasn’t the point—being on the water was. That distinction—journey vs. finish line—is the crucial difference between sailing and racing.
Racing taught me the mechanics of sailing and sharpened my focus. But intense focus can tighten into tension. Over time, that tension can blunt intuition and turn sailing into a narrow mental contest—winning at all costs, optimizing every maneuver solely to beat the next competitor. There’s nothing wrong with ambition and competitiveness; they can be powerful motivators. My father, a multiple national Senior Sunfish Champion, embodied the racing frame: everything distilled to what produced an advantage under the rules. I admire that discipline, but it also illustrates how a single frame can limit what we learn and how we experience the activity.
Here are some clear contrasts between the racing frame and the sailing frame:
RACING:
– Excitement tempered by long stretches of boredom
– Subtraction: only one winner
– Fixed direction toward a finish
– Goal: finish first
– Constant adrenaline and heightened urgency
SAILING:
– Serenity punctuated by moments of excitement
– Addition: connection with the environment and others
– Flow rather than fixed direction
– Goal: to continue, enjoy and learn along the way
– Adrenaline held in reserve for real emergencies
Nautical folk often say being on the water is 90% pleasure and 10% terror. A calm cruise can rapidly become a test of seamanship when a line of violent squalls arrives. That’s when experience, intuition and a measured burst of adrenaline combine to keep you safe and, with luck, provide a memorable story. Racing, by contrast, imposes a near‑constant simulated emergency: high tempo, loud calls, rapid adjustments—useful for developing tactical skills, yes, but also tiring and potentially dehumanizing over time.
We mirror this pattern in schools and workplaces when we drive everyone with the racing mentality: hurry up, produce, push through, and minimize downtime. Slogans like “idle hands are the devil’s workshop” or “no pain, no gain” justify constant urgency. Research on stress—dating back to Hans Selye—shows persistent stress degrades performance, narrows perception, harms creativity, and eventually leads to burnout. The racing frame overlays the joy of a task with continuous stress and reduces opportunities for broader learning and collaboration.
That said, racing has value: it builds teamwork, sharpens tactics, and delivers a clear sense of achievement. The key is balance. Leadership that treats every moment like a race risks turning teams into reactive units focused only on short‑term wins. Leadership that adopts the sailing frame cultivates steadier attention, openness to new information, and relationships that resemble partnership more than command and control. Save urgent responses for actual emergencies; otherwise create conditions that support focus, curiosity and sustainable performance.
When people are relaxed and unpressured, they tend to make better decisions, share responsibility more willingly, and take initiative in ways that strengthen the whole group. Encourage flow, welcome exploration, and recognize that learning often happens outside contest conditions. Lean on competition when it serves development or motivation, but don’t let it become the default frame for all learning and work.
P.S. We really do have a biological affinity with the ocean—our blood and seawater have similar pH characteristics—and recent work such as Wallace J. Nichols’ book Blue Mind explores how contact with water restores and inspires many of us. Whether it’s boating, swimming or simply sitting on the beach, time near water helps reset perspective and supports mental well‑being.
About the author
Mac Bogert is President of AZA Learning and a regular columnist for the Learning Counsel. He began his career as an English teacher and for the past 25 years has focused on the intersection of leadership and learning. He is also a musician, professional actor, yacht charter captain, staff development consultant, curriculum designer and the author of Learning Chaos.
This article was originally published by The Learning Counsel, a research institute and news media hub focused on the shift in education toward digital curriculum.