Taking Risks to Save the Earth

After I graduated from college, I had been looking for the intersection between entrepreneurship and the environment. Upon graduating from the Stanford Graduate School of Business in 2002, I wrote cases for Stanford's Center for Entrepreneurial Studies for two years and then spent a year at Wine.com. Then a GSB classmate of mine put me in touch with a clean-tech investor who introduced me to TerraPass.

Last November, I joined Tom Arnold, the determined Wharton student who turned TerraPass from a class project into a real business, and embarked on what has been the most rewarding chapter in my professional life (see BusinessWeek.com, 7/15/05, "Getting Terrapass on the Road").

TerraPass fights global warming by allowing individuals and businesses to balance their own greenhouse gas emissions by funding clean energy. Say your job requires a lot of driving. You hate what you're doing to the environment, but beyond getting a more fuel-efficient vehicle, what else can you do?

You purchase the TerraPass (anywhere from $29.95 to $79.95 depending on your gas consumption), and we then "offset" the amount of carbon dioxide you produce by funding projects that reduce carbon dioxide emissions elsewhere. You also get a cool decal for your car that shows you're driving a climate-balanced vehicle.

We have a lean team—four full-time employees (three in San Francisco, one in New York City) plus a summer intern from Stanford GSB. Everyone contributes well beyond their official responsibilities. Aside from the daily blocking and tackling involved in operating a startup, I am focused on building solutions for businesses and developing corporate partnerships.

TerraPass's consumer products are leading the industry, so my challenge is to leverage our success on the consumer side to build a business channel. In essence, I am building a business within a business.

So what does a day in the life of an eco-capitalist warrior look like? Here's a sample:

6:15 a.m.— Alarm goes off. I glance out the window to assess how many layers I'll need to survive my seven-mile run through San Francisco's Presidio. I give my Blackberry a quick spin to be sure that no one on the East Coast has any time-sensitive requests for information.

6:30 a.m.— Out the door to meet my friend and former colleague at our usual corner to begin our run. We swap war stories from our respective startups.

8:15 a.m.— With $1.50 in my pocket, my iPod in my hand, and my New York Times under my arm, I walk to the bus stop and hope for the best...

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