The Error Term

When you hear the word beautiful, what comes to mind?

Maybe it’s a golden sunset. Or a vista of snow-capped mountains. Or the elegant grace of wild horses running free.

Those are all beautiful sights, no doubt.

But when I hear the word beautiful, I think of something else entirely. I think of a regression function.

You’re probably thinking this is an odd choice. And you’re right.

Beauty is supposed to be about the majesty of nature. About the tenderness of emotion.

A regression equation seemingly has little of either of these sentiments.

It’s a string of numbers, letters and symbols. As cold and calculating as a movie villain. As dry as day-old ink on the page.

Still, there is a method to my preference.

How could there not be? After all, method is math’s bread and butter.

So, let’s break it down.


At its core, a regression function is an explanation.

It explains how one variable is impacted by others.

For instance, we could run a regression to see how interest rates impact home prices. Or how days with cold temperatures impact doctors’ visits.

We could even look at the impacts of two different variables. For example, how the local football team’s performance impacts the number of traffic accidents on the city’s streets and the amount of nightly revenues at the city’s restaurants.

With enough data, we can look at just about anything. The regression model is simply the tool we use to transform the data into something worth talking about.

Now, this data-driven explanation doesn’t necessarily show cause and effect. After all, a golden rule of statistics is that Correlation does not equal causation.

No, a regression equation simply shows how the variables are related. How two — or three, or four — elements tend to work together.

This knowledge is what allows us to make predictions. It can help meteorologists build 10 day weather forecast models. It can help political consultants handicap future election results. And it can help business managers make shrewd strategic pivots.

In all these cases, the data speak volumes. The regression equations provide evidence to guide the prognosticators in their choices. They seem to illuminate the path ahead, like runway lights at an airport.

But while a strong regression can give a forecaster confidence, the process is far from failproof.

We’ve all seen a time where the weathercaster was flat out wrong. Where the pollster missed the mark. Or where a company’s bold moves fell flat.

When this happens, we’re quick to assign blame.

We rush to shame the experts for getting it wrong. For leading us astray. For not being perfect.

This is ridiculous — for multiple reasons.

For one thing, perfection is not an attainable ideal. Mistakes are a fact of life, and we all slip up from time to time. There’s no need to call out others for being human.

But just as importantly, regression models themselves are not perfect.


If you were to write out a regression equation, it would likely look something like this.

y = ß0 + ß 1x1 + ß 2x2 + e

The y’s and x’s show the part of the equation that can be predicted. This section of the equation shows how a change in variable y tends to impact variable x1 or x2.

This is the part of the equation that prognosticators — weathercasters, pollsters, business leaders — rely on. And they’re right to do so — most of the time.

But that e at the end of the equation represents something totally different.

The e stands for the error term — the part of the model that can’t be predicted.

This is the randomness, the chaos, the side effects that can’t be explained.

Statisticians do their best to build models that reduce that e term as much as possible. To isolate the exact factors that explain a relationship between multiple variables.

Still, no matter how much they try and remove all error, it remains.

That might seem like a problem. But I believe it’s a good thing.

For the world is neither simple nor clean. It can’t be neatly organized in boxes, wrapped in paper and topped with bows.

No, the world is inherently messy. It can defy logic and be straight-up perplexing at times.

The error term captures this reality. It captures life in its purest form.

This is why I love the error term. This is why I associate a regression equation with beauty.

And this is why I believe the error term requires more attention from all of us.


Throughout our daily lives, we do our best to prepare.

We brush our teeth, shower and put on climate-appropriate clothing. We add appointments and events to our calendar. We map out our immediate and future spending needs.

We do what we can so that we’re ready to act decisively now and in the future.

I am no stranger to this behavior. Indeed, I tend to obsess over preparation and organization.

This laser-sharp focus is a net benefit. It allows us to be presentable and to make proper decisions.

But relying solely on this approach can get us off track.

For life is defined by the error term. By the instances when things take an unexpected left turn. By the moments we can’t possibly prepare for.

These changes of pace, these shocks to the system — they do more than spice things up. They test our mettle.

These are the moments that define our lives. These are the occurrences that unlock ingenuity and innovation. These are the opportunities for us to display our humanity.

We build emotional connections by navigating the error term. Those connections lead to storytelling, as we share accounts of our experience through visuals, through audio and through the written word. And those stories we tell ourselves — they help shape our culture.

It’s time we embrace the error term. It’s time we stop obsessing on all that can be explained, and that we come to terms with what confounds us.

This is what will allow us to live our lifes to the fullest. To treasure the journey with a clear and open mind.

To err is human. Let’s get back in touch with our humanity.

What’s Your Excuse?

What’s your excuse?

It’s surely out there, waiting on you to call it out.

There’s always something else we can blame when we don’t meet the expectations others have of us, or that we have of ourselves. There’s always a scapegoat — whether it be a person, an object or a set of circumstances — that we can point the finger at. There’s always something we can explain away as being beyond our control.

For our existence appears to us as a story. And when things don’t always go to plan, we can just shift the way that story is told.

That way, we’re the hero. That way, the odds are back in our favor. That way, we can do no wrong.

How do you paint your narrative?

What’s your excuse?


 

My friend Johnnie is a Veteran. He served as a combat controller in the United States Air Force.

On his second deployment to Afghanistan, Johnnie’s convoy hit an IED. Critically injured in the explosion, Johnnie’s life changed forever. He had 31 surgeries to save his legs, and he had to learn how to walk again. His active duty career in the military was over.

Johnnie was awarded a Purple Heart. George W. Bush painted Johnnie’s likeness as part of the Portraits of Courage series, and invited him to participate in his Warrior Open golf tournament for wounded veterans.

But along with all the accolades, Johnnie found himself on strange footing in civilian life. Surrounded by people who couldn’t possibly understand what he’d been through — people who’d never been through the trauma of armed combat, the grueling ordeal of multiple surgeries, the hours and hours of Physical Therapy — it would have been easy for Johnnie to be bitter, to blame the world for what befell him.

But he didn’t.

Johnnie is one of the most positive people I’ve ever met. He makes a point to thank everyone who helped him get back on his feet, and he tries to pay it forward by helping others in need whenever he can. In our second week of business school together, Hurricane Harvey ravaged Southeast Texas. Johnnie gathered what supplies he could from our class, and headed down to Houston to help with the rescue effort. There was no hesitation, only determination.

That’s who Johnnie is, even in the wake of an injury that turned his life upside down. There’s no wallowing in self-pity. Only a determined quest to spread positivity and help others in need.

What’s your excuse?


My next-door neighbor in my college dorm was a young man named Scottie. Living in close quarters, we became fast friends.

Scottie started college a semester after I did. Still, it was miraculous that he even was able to attend college at all.

As it turns out, Scottie had been battling brain tumors of most of his life. The first one appeared when he was only 8 years old. As a child and a teenager, he went through round after round of cancer treatment. Tumors would go away, only to come back months later.

It took a while for me to learn about Scottie’s plight. That was by design.

For Scottie didn’t want people to pity him. Not once did I hear him ask Why me?

His plight was just an obstacle to get past. It was not going to define the way he lived his life.

So, Scottie pursued a college degree, even as his treatments interfered with the process. He continued to cheer on his beloved Florida Panthers. He remained devoted to family and friends.

And he did all of this with a smile on his face and joy in his heart, even in the face of an unthinkable struggle.

Scottie lost his battle in 2014, months after marrying the love of his life. Before his tragic passing, Scottie published an autobiography, which I have yet to finish reading. (What’s my excuse?)

As heartbroken as all who knew him still are today, we can take some measure of solace in learning from the way Scottie lived his life. We can remind ourselves that the plights we face in our lives don’t have to define them. That we can choose the way we live, even in the midst of the gravest battles of our lives.

We can heed these lessons, because Scottie showed us the path.

That’s who Scottie was. And still is.

What’s your excuse?


If you’ve watched prime-time television in recent years, you’re probably familiar with Amy.

I’m talking about Amy Purdy. Snowboarder. Dancing With The Stars contestant. Model. Actress. Motivational speaker. Amy has many different roles.

I’ve never met her. But in a way, I have.

In a TEDx talk, Amy recounts her life. Outfitted in stylish jeans and boots, she confidently walks back and forth on stage as she describes her upbringing, hopes and aspirations.

Then, the moment of conflict.

At age 19, she gets what she thinks is the flu. It turns out to be bacterial meningitis, and lands her in the hospital. She goes into a coma, and wakes up to find her legs amputated below the knee.

Tears are rolling down Amy’s face as she harkens back to those first days after losing her legs. She recalls the despair in knowing that life as she knew it would never again exist.

Amy speaks of spending days on end sleeping with her prosthetic legs by her bedside. Of being too depressed to face her reality.

The raw emotion is palpable and resonant.

But then, something changes. Amy realizes that her condition doesn’t have to hold her back. That with a lot of drive and a little ingenuity, she can accomplish great things.

She starts snowboarding again, and ultimately finds herself in the Paralympics. Her career soars, and she ends up in the limelight.

As her star ascends, Amy looks to help others. She co-founds a non-profit to help individuals with physical disabilities get involved with action sports, art or music.

Amy could have given up when she lost her legs. But she didn’t.

Instead, she set out to achieve great things. And to help others do the same.

That’s who Amy is.

What’s your excuse? 


What’s your excuse?

It’s worth asking again.

What’s the insurmountable obstacle that’s preventing you from achieving your potential? What’s the circumstance standing in your way? What’s the scapegoat, the villain, the convenient alibi?

It’s not as real as you wish it was.

Johnnie, Scottie and Amy didn’t let excuses stop them, even in the wake of unthinkable challenges. So, why are you letting it stop you?

It’s time to get real. To take ownership. To recognize that regardless of the circumstance, you can define your own destiny.

This is your right. And your obligation.

It’s up to you to seize it.

If you feel you can’t, like it’s too much, think of the example Johnnie, Scottie or Amy set. And remember these three words.

What’s your excuse?