The first time I was in a crash I was with my father and we had to ditch the small aeroplane we were flying into the sea near Houston. It was frightening, but I soon forgot about it.

But when, five years later, I was involved in a second crash, I took it as a sign that I should re-evaluate my priorities. As a software developer in Boulder, Colorado, I had a working week of 60 to 80 hours, as well as building my own company on the side. Even though I made sure I had dinner with my wife every night, I would eat in 30 minutes and then work until bedtime. But I enjoyed my work; in fact, I thought of it as play.

The day of the crash, in December 2008, I'd noticed that the gate sign at Denver Airport was stuck on the previous flight's destination. As we took off, just at the point the aeroplane should have been turning its nose to the air, there was a jolt. Wow, that's unusual, I thought. Just then the aeroplane veered off the runway and bounced. No one screamed. This is bad, I thought.