The Day I Almost Died: What It Taught Me About Trading

Founder’s Note: We like to stretch it out and go long when we turn it over to Senior Analyst Jason Perz on Saturdays.

Jason excels at taking us deep, finding some meaning, and helping us think.

Here’s Jason with another compelling read on how his experience shapes his view of markets. – JC


By Jason Perz

As a teenager, I ruptured my spleen. The hospital didn’t take me seriously. I laid there for four hours, bleeding internally, feeling weaker by the minute. 

By the time they acted, I was almost gone.

They life-flighted me out. Cut me open. Left me with 39 staples down my stomach.

But I woke up.

And that changed everything.

When you’ve looked death in the eye and lived, the world feels different. The worst thing that could happen had almost happened — and I was still here. 

Every fear I’d been carrying up to that point suddenly felt small.

Before that day, I’d been in survival mode. I hid from people. I avoided risk. I was scared to show who I really was. After it, I became fearless – not injury, not rejection, not failure. 

“In some ways,” writes Viktor Frankl, “suffering ceases to be suffering at the moment it finds a meaning, such as the meaning of a sacrifice.”

I didn’t have to pretend to be tough.

I had already proven to myself I could survive the worst.

The Road to Pro Athlete

That shift didn’t just stay in my head – it poured into everything I did. I found BMX as an outlet when I was a kid.

The sport wasn’t safe. It wasn’t controlled. Every event, every jump carried real risk. But that’s what made it worth it.

If I was going to live, I was going to live.

A BMX rider in a black helmet performs an aerial trick in an indoor skate park with blue ramps. Onlookers watch from below, adding a sense of excitement.

I chased life hard. Training until my legs burned wasn’t enough – I pushed until I had a heart attack once from overtraining.

I had days where I crawled to my car after a session, covered in blood, and lay there for hours just to gather the strength to drive home.

The crashes blurred together – the kind that broke your bones, left your vision hazy, and had you spitting out pieces of your teeth that told the story better than anything I could write.

Many nights ended in a hospital bed: staring at the ceiling, wondering how much more my body could take… knowing I’d be back on the bike as soon as I could stand.

We traveled to competitions in vans held together by duct tape and stubbornness, sleeping in cars or on cold floors. We ate garbage food because that’s what we could afford, and laughed about it like kings at a banquet.

It wasn’t glamorous – but it was freedom.

The road trips were legendary – the kind where you left town with 10 bucks, a bike, and a dream, and somehow came back with new friends and a story you’d tell for years.

We made mistakes. Countless injuries. Fought over stupid stuff.

But we also had wins – real, soul-filling wins, the kind you only get when you’ve worked, bled, and laughed alongside people chasing the same thing.

By the time I turned pro, it wasn’t just about BMX.

It was about proving that fear wasn’t in charge anymore.

Freedom and Its Discipline

Living without fear isn’t the same as living without caution.

The trick I learned (the hard way) – and kept – was to take big shots without being reckless.

Freedom came from preparation. From knowing that if I took the risk, I had the skills to back it up.

That’s the piece most people miss. They want the upside of living fearlessly without the work that makes it sustainable.

But, to me, discipline was freedom.

Because I had a process, I could ride full-out without holding back.

Trading: The New Arena

When I left BMX, I thought I was walking away from that life. I wasn’t. I was just changing arenas.

Trading isn’t that different from competing. There’s risk in every move. The outcomes are uncertain.

The highs and lows are brutal.

A speaker on stage at TEDx Cleveland State University, wearing a blue button-up shirt. The background is a dark red curtain, and a TEDx sign is visible.

In BMX, fear freezes you mid-jump. In trading, fear freezes you mid-trade. Same result: you lose.

The lessons carried over perfectly:

  • You can’t win by playing only defense. Playing not to lose means you never take the big shot when it matters.
  • Mistakes are inevitable. The question is how fast you can recover without losing your head.
  • Find your crew. Just like in BMX, having the right people around you changes everything – they spot things you miss, keep you grounded, and push you forward.
  • Have a playbook. In BMX, it’s training routines, creativity and strategy. In trading, it’s price signals, risk management, and knowing when to get off the track.

I trade the way I rode: fully in, trusting my preparation, knowing I’ve already faced worse than a bad trade.

Why This Matters

Most people think they need to avoid pain and risk at all costs.

The truth? The risk is the point. The uncertainty is the point. That’s where growth lives.

If I hadn’t almost died, I wouldn’t have become a pro athlete. If I hadn’t been a pro athlete, I wouldn’t have learned the discipline that makes me a successful trader.

“He who has a why to live for can bear almost any how.” That’s Friedrich Nietzsche, as quoted by Viktor Frankl in “Man’s Search for Meaning.”

Markets – like life – reward those who step in fully. Not recklessly. Not blindly. But with all of themselves, unafraid of the outcome.

Because once you’ve been given a second chance, you stop asking, “What if I fail?” and start asking, “What if I never try?”

Save the bees,

Jason Perz
Senior Analyst, TrendLabs