I love to play golf, although most of the time, golf plays me. Invariably, when you approach the first tee box to start your round, someone will ask, “What tees are we playing?” If you’re not a golfer, it’s probably easy to figure out that some tees make a course play longer than others. Women typically play from the reds (the shortest distance from tee to green), professionals play from the tips (the long tees) and seniors play from somewhere in-between. Many men will play from the whites (slightly longer than the reds) or the blues, depending on their skill and their appetite for challenge.

As you approach the tee, the question (and the answer) says something about you. How confident are you in your game? Are you a risk-taker? Are you more likely to protect yourself from embarrassment or to demonstrate your sense of adventure? Are you out to have fun, to win or to just get by? No matter your skill, Annika can likely beat you from any tee box. The Japanese almost always play from the tips. Why? Because the cost of golf is so high in Japan that they want the best value for their money. And although I’ve tried to negotiate often, my wife won’t let me play against her from the reds.

What about you? No, I’m not asking about golf. I’m asking whether you’re playing from the whites or the tips– in your work, in your play and in your life. Are you challenging yourself every day, or just getting by? Are you playing from where you’re least likely to get in trouble, or from where you can get the greatest satisfaction from your triumph? Are you playing to your ability, or are you stretching yourself– always pushing yourself to bigger and better things, and greater levels of achievement? Are you taking on the trees, bunkers and water from the tips, or are you taking them out of play from the whites?

I’ve known some great leaders in my career. Although each one was very different, they all had one thing in common. They all knew how to say, “No.” Some enjoyed saying “no” more than others, but to a person, each one put a lot of thought and care into the answer…before it was delivered. I didn’t always agree, but I did always feel that the answer wasn’t formed casually.

The greatest lesson I learned from them was how to say “no” when saying “yes” remained a real possibility; to be the bearer of bad news when it was absolutely necessary, but not always for obvious reasons. Such was the case with year-end salary increases and bonus, and the lack of them in tough times. If you have to deliver the bad news this year, consider these ten practical, sensible guidelines for the delivery of your message.

Wherever you’ve been, you’ve made a path. Walking through the woods, the tall grass, the sand; you can almost always look back and see the direction you’ve come. Some paths are more clear than others. Some are straight lines. Some twist and turn. Some end abruptly and start again in a new direction. And some are blurred by the surroundings — a wave on the shore might wash away your path in the sand, or the wind might overcome your steps in the snow. Nevertheless, you’ve made a path with your life, a path you can’t possibly make without being in motion.

I paused recently at the back of an ocean-going cruise ship. The sky was blue. The air crisp. The sea was calm and it slapped gently against the ship as it cut through the water. I walked along the top deck, passed several times by men with black socks and sneakers, almost twice my age. Pausing at the back, I was fixed on the path we’d made through the water. It went as far back as I could see. Close to the ship, I could feel the power of the engines, churning up the water behind us. Turquoise and white bubbles stirred among the darker colors of the ocean. It seemed to boil as more color came to the surface, propelling us toward our destination. This is where the action was. Busyness. Power. Motion.