Christian Espinosa

Athlete, Business leader, Change agent, Consultant, Entrepreneur, World traveler

Christian Espinosa is the CEO and Founder of Alpine Security and a Cybersecurity Professor at Maryville University. He has worked as a Network & Systems Engineer, a White Hat Hacker, a Trainer, a Consultant, and an Entrepreneur in the cybersecurity industry since 1993. He has held over 25 industry certifications, including the CISSP, CISA, LPT, CCISO, and PMP. He is a veteran of the United States Air Force and holds a BS in Engineering from the U.S. Air Force Academy (USAFA) and an MBA in Computer and Information Management from Webster University. He also holds multiple patents on cybersecurity attack and defense simulation. Some of the major recent projects Christian has worked on include penetration testing and security assessments of commercial and military aircraft, medical device penetration testing, and numerous incident response projects. When Christian isn’t protecting us from cybercriminals, he climbs mountains, travels the world, teaches outdoor wilderness survival, and races ultramarathons and Ironman triathlons.

I am most passionate about helping high IQ/low EQ people get to the next level in their career, relationships, and life. This passion has roots in my entrepreneurial journey and in my industry (cybersecurity), where the desire to be the “smartest person in the room” is the main problem we face in cybersecurity. Through my journey and transformation, I learned that my own insecurities created and protected an ego (“to be the smartest person in the room”). This posturing and desire to protect my ego caused problems in my career and relationships. Now, on the other side of that journey, I want to help others with these challenges.

The root cause of the failures of cybersecurity is the people in cybersecurity posturing to be the smartest person in the room. This posturing (ego) stems from insecurity and fear. The posturing presents itself in a number of ways that greatly hinder cybersecurity.

cybersecurity, Information Security Consulting, life coaching, Mountain Climbing, penetration testing

There I stood on the peak of Mount Elbrus in Russia, having triumphantly ascended my second of the seven highest summits on Earth. A profound feeling of accomplishment filled my being, yet deep inside was a small but real feeling of isolation. Because my whole life, I let my ego get in the way. I was born in Riverside, California, and at 12, we moved to Arkansas and shortly after my parents divorced. I lived with my mom who was addicted to pain meds and other drugs, didn’t work, and so we lived below the poverty line. We relied on food stamps, welfare, and W.I.C. For reasons I’m unsure about, I was afraid to get close to people. I played football, but I was also smart, but I also liked heavy metal, so I felt out of place from each particular clique. My internal response was, ‘Well if I don’t belong, I’ll be the best at everything.’ And I built my life on that premise. I took a position that I've got everything covered, that I'm an entity unto myself. I didn’t want to show any weakness and I pushed myself to be the best. I lived in the relentless pursuit of achievement. I rose to a VP position in the intellect-ego driven world of cybersecurity. I stood atop mountain summits. Did 24 Ironmans. 300 skydives. 200 scuba dives. 50-mile ultramarathons. Traveled to 70 countries. I even trained on survival with the legendary Bear Grylls. But as my life went on, I was slowly realizing that projecting myself as the best and smartest was a lonely proposition. I did a lot of amazing things, but I didn’t belong anywhere. Until 2014. 2014 is the year I started my own cybersecurity company. And entrepreneurship was forced personal growth. Cybersecurity is a field where people want to be seen as smart or they pretend they are smart. Continual posturing as “The Smartest Guy in the Room.” A lot of ego. And I had this M.O. mastered. I avoided joining groups, and if I went to a group function it was only to demonstrate myself as the best or smartest. Embarrassing to admit, but true. But suddenly here I was, an entrepreneur with other entrepreneurs offering me good advice, and I was closed to everyone’s ideas, trying to maintain my image as having all the answers. It wasn’t good. And it forced me to take a long hard look at an important question: What is it costing me to always posture myself as The Smartest Guy in the Room? I realized it was costing me growth. Costing me great solutions that could come from others. And deepest of all, costing me a sense of belonging. The very thing I’d never felt my entire life.

Headbanging to Nightwish.