Written by Emma Isaacs, the founder and Global CEO of Business Chicks

Each year, I get the tough gig of heading to Necker Island with a bunch of our members for a leadership conference.

Sir Richard Branson bought Necker Island to impress his girlfriend, now wife, Joan, many years ago. He transformed it into a luxury resort and playground, as well as a conservation haven for lemurs, flamingos, and dozens of other exotic creatures.

A few years back, he also bought the island across from Necker (as you do), called Moskito. Every now and then, Richard generously opens up Moskito for groups visiting Necker, as he kindly did for us. We were given the option to kayak, sail, stand-up paddleboard, motorboat, or swim across to Moskito.

Being someone who never says no to a challenge, I chose the swim. I’d swum from Necker to Moskito before, completely winging it as I’m not a swimmer. When I made it across back then, I made a vow to myself that I’d never do it again. Not that I didn’t enjoy it, or feel a sense of accomplishment. I suppose I felt it was just one of those things in life that only needs to be done once. But here I was, attempting it again, and asking myself why.

This time, the swim was quite cathartic for me. As I set off from Necker Island and started on the two-and-a-half-mile journey, all I could think about was how similar it was to the journey of an entrepreneur.

First, you start out alone and ask yourself, “Why am I doing this again?” Then you find your rhythm, you gain momentum, and you think, “This is good. I’m heading in the right direction. I can do this.” Really soon after, though, you start to get a bit tired and begin to doubt yourself. “I’ve got a long way to go. This is hard. Why am I doing this?” Then you start to feel very, very alone. You look behind you, and there’s no one else there, and you look ahead, and there’s no one there either. You realize that even though there are people who love and support you, the job of an entrepreneur is a lonely one.

The next part of the swim is the hardest. You wonder if you’re getting anywhere, achieving anything. It’s just stroke after stroke, hoping you’re moving forward toward your goal. Just as you feel like you can’t go any further, there’s a glimmer of hope. A boat passes by, full of your people, and they yell out, “You can do it! You’re doing so well! Woohoo!” and you feel buoyed by their encouragement. You swim faster and stronger, and you feel invincible. But soon that boat is out of sight and you’re back being alone, and the water looks impossibly deep, and you start to think about sharks and stingrays and the unknown lurking beneath you.

If you’re strong, you now dig deep, keep your head down, and keep going. You tell yourself you can do this. If you’re not strong, you look for the support boat, wave to them, and they come and rescue you, which is what happened to one of my fellow swimmers. I felt bad for him and watched as he was pulled from the water, but it made me even more resolved to succeed.

Soon enough, the island you’re heading toward comes into view. Suddenly, your goal seems possible. It’s within reach. “You’re almost there,” you say to yourself. You lift your tired arms out of the water, one after the other, perhaps breaking for a second and looking for reassurance from the support boat. They nod in encouragement, and you start to feel like you just might have this.

And it turns out you do. The water becomes shallower and shallower, and the white sand starts to emerge. You think, “I can’t believe I just did that.”  You stand up, a little shaky from the swim, and your people are there for the high fives and the celebration.

That swim was poignant for me, and the eternal question of how to succeed was answered (thanks, Dory): just keep swimming.