Go Around
Lessons from Crashing an Airplane
Several years ago, I spent an afternoon at Paine Field practicing for a regular checkride. The weather was great, there weren’t many planes in the pattern, and I was really familiar with this particular airplane. This should have been a routine practice flight.
But the routine was really a distraction.
On one of my landings, I came down final a little high and a little fast. It wasn’t really dramatic; it was certainly the kind of approach that I told myself that I could salvage. I ignored the training that teaches the opposite: if the approach isn’t stable, go around. Going around is easy, uneventful, and never embarrassing. But I continued anyway, convinced I could make the landing work. That subtle continuation bias is something pilots and leaders both recognize.
The Crash
Shortly after applying full throttle for the touch-and-go, the airplane suddenly veered left. Before I could correct, we were already off the pavement and moving through the grass. I reduced power and braked lightly, and the airplane came to a stop with the nose gear collapsed and the prop bent.
When everything settled, the ELT was blaring inside the cockpit constant and piercing. I shut it off, and the airplane instantly became lifeless. No hum, no radios, no vibration. Just me, sitting alone in a silent cockpit.
In my headset, the tower calmly instructed a trailing airplane to go around and called for emergency equipment. No urgency or panic, just following the protocol. A minute later, fire trucks were heading my way, and a helicopter began circling overhead for news footage.
In the thirty seconds before help arrived, my brain went into overdrive:
How do I tell my wife?
I don’t want this to be the end of flying for me.
How much is this going to cost?
Please don’t let me be famous for the wrong reasons.
But then, I forced myself to slow down. The airplane was stopped and I was safe; and I had a few simple jobs still: shut off fuel, turn off the master switch, secure the aircraft, and communicate that I was OK.
Aviation in the US does a great job of treating these moments without shame. No one asked me for excuses; they focus on explanations. What happened, what decisions I made, and what the conditions were. The debrief wasn’t punitive; it was educational. The point was to improve the system and make the next pilot safer because of my experience.
But in the end, I didn’t crash because of weather, or mechanical failure.
I crashed an airplane because I continued a landing when I should have gone around.
Here’s what that experience taught me.
1. Momentum Is Not Always an Asset
The moment before a bad landing or a bad leadership decision sometimes feels inconsequential: We’re close enough, we’re almost done, let’s just finish. Continuation bias is powerful. The brain loves completion more than correction.
Leaders feel this all the time: we push ahead because we’re already invested, not because conditions are right.
A really good reference on this topic, written for pilots but applicable to leaders can be found here: (PDF) Aeronautical decision-making in context: Influence of affect and experience on procedure violations
Leadership takeaway: Momentum is not the same as good judgement. The discipline to go around, or reset or change direction even when we are seconds from “done” is a strength.
2. Go-Arounds Cost Less Than Forcing a Landing
A go-around in aviation is uneventful and inexpensive but a forced landing that isn’t configured correctly can be an expensive mistake. The same is true in leadership: it is almost always cheaper to step back early than to correct late.
Leadership takeaway: A go-around preserves optionality and energy. Forcing something that isn’t aligned almost always creates bigger consequences than a clean retreat and reset.
3. Accountability Accelerates Capability
I learned more from honestly talking the causes of this accident than from hundreds of uneventful landings. The subsequent NTSB interviews weren’t about blame or performance. They were about learning what happened so the next pilot would be safer. What struck me was how deeply aviation embodies this growth mindset: every incident is treated as an opportunity to learn.
That growth mindset framing changes everything. When the environment treats mistakes as inputs for learning, it makes accountability easier, not harder. It encourages curiosity rather than defensiveness. It invites honesty rather than perfectionism. And learning from mistakes accelerates competence more than lots of successful flights. .
Leadership takeaway: Imagine if more teams normalized go-arounds, treated decisions as experiments, and celebrated learning as much as success.
Wrap up
We all experience “approaches” that aren’t configured correctly; whether its a decision that doesn’t feel aligned with our purpose, mission or values, or a product that isn’t ready, or a partnership that has too much friction, or even a personal commitment we’re trying to finish even though our instincts are telling us to go around.
Great leaders don’t forcing the landing; they give themselves and their teams permission to go around.
When leaders normalize these go-arounds, in product work, hiring, negotiations, partnerships, creative projects, or personal commitments, cultures get safer, and more resilient. The earlier we notice misalignment, the lower the cost of correction.
If You’re Navigating a Go-Around
If you’re deciding whether to continue or go around, or you’re processing something that didn’t go as planned, feel free to reach out or DM me. Sometimes the most valuable part of leadership is having someone sit with you while you share what happened, without judgment or the need for defensiveness. Growth happens faster when we learn generously and go around intentionally.