The Journey, Not Just the Summit

I’ve always loved the mountains.

I was an athlete, and I spent time with an Outward Bound–type organization, helping lead teams through experiences of challenge, leadership, and adventure in the outdoors. I had even climbed a mountain in Tibet. I was comfortable pushing myself, testing my limits, and setting my sights on the summit.

So, one day in Tepic, Mexico, when I found myself climbing a hill with friends, I expected to do what I had always done: keep going.

But halfway up, something was different.

My body was telling me I couldn’t go any farther. The heat had caught up with me, and I was experiencing heat exhaustion. For someone accustomed to pushing through discomfort, it was humbling to recognize that the wisest thing I could do was stop.

So I sat down, drank some water, and waited while my friends continued up and eventually made their way back down.

As I rested, I noticed an older gentleman climbing the same path.

He was wearing weights on his wrists and ankles.

I remember smiling at the irony of it all. Here I was, an athlete who had climbed mountains, sitting on the side of a hill because my body was telling me to stop. And here was this much older gentleman, deliberately making his climb more difficult.

As I sat there, I sensed God asking me a question:

Are you here for the journey, or are you here to conquer something?

It was a simple question, but it stayed with me.

Until that moment, I had been measuring the experience by what I could accomplish. Could I make it to the top? Could I overcome the obstacle? Could I conquer the hill?

But suddenly, I saw the moment differently.

I didn’t have to conquer anything.

I could simply be there.

I could sit, breathe, drink my water, and take in the view. I could appreciate where I was instead of being consumed by where I thought I needed to be.

The circumstances hadn’t changed.

My perspective had.

And with that shift, something in me softened, too.

When Our Perspective Gets Stuck

I think many of us experience something similar in life.

We can become so focused on the destination that we lose touch with the journey.

We set a goal, form an expectation, or develop a picture of what success is supposed to look like. Then life takes an unexpected turn.

A relationship changes.

A career unfolds differently than we imagined.

Our plans are interrupted.

Our bodies, circumstances, or responsibilities ask us to slow down or change direction.

And sometimes our instinct is to push harder.

To overcome.

To prove something.

To keep moving toward the summit.

But what if there are moments when the invitation isn't to push through?

What if the invitation is to pause and become curious?

To ask:

What is really motivating me right now?

What am I trying to prove?

What would happen if I stopped measuring this moment by whether I reached the summit?

What might be available to me if I became more present to where I am today?

These questions don’t have one right answer. They simply create space to notice what is happening within us.

And sometimes, that awareness is where something new can begin.

A Different Way Forward

One of the things I value most about coaching is the power of a thoughtful question.

A powerful question doesn't necessarily give us an answer. Instead, it can create space for us to discover something for ourselves.

It can interrupt an old pattern of thinking and invite us to look at a familiar situation from a different perspective.

That’s what happened for me on that hillside in Tepic.

The question didn’t change the temperature.

It didn’t restore my energy.

It didn’t magically move me to the top.

What changed was the meaning I was giving the moment.

And with that shift, I was free to experience the hill differently.

Perhaps you’ve had moments like that in your own life.

A moment when something didn’t go according to plan, and you found yourself at a crossroads: Do I keep pushing against what is happening, or might I pause long enough to become curious about what this moment is inviting me to notice?

Sometimes resilience may look like climbing higher.

And sometimes resilience may look like knowing when to sit down.

Sometimes growth may mean accomplishing more.

And sometimes growth may mean becoming more present to the life we are already living.

The Journey Matters

I still love the mountains.

I still appreciate a challenge, a meaningful goal, and the satisfaction of reaching a summit.

But that experience in Mexico gave me a perspective I don't want to forget:

The summit is not the only thing that makes the journey worthwhile.

There is value in the climb.

There is value in the pause.

There is value in the unexpected.

And there can be joy in simply noticing where we are.

God has graciously reminded me of this many times since that day.

When life doesn’t look the way I expected, I can return to that question:

Am I trying to conquer this, or am I willing to be present for the journey?

Maybe it’s a question worth sitting with.

Not because there is a right answer, but because the question itself may create a little more space to see what is possible.

And sometimes, a new way of seeing is exactly where a new way forward begins.

Prov 16:9…”A person’s heart plans his way,, but the Lord determines his steps.”