Elevated Content...

It ultimately comes down to the question when I am chatting with people. Why ice and summits? Why I like them. Why I have them plastered all over my website. Why I talk about elevating, ascending, climbing. There is the obvious wrapped warmly in the words that people can understand intrinsically and then there is the meaning behind the words that drives me.

Failure. I think about failure and how painfully cold it can leave you. How alone and defeated it can make you feel. It's also beautiful when coming out the other side of it, whether still at the bottom of the climb and yet a few feet forward, better for the efforts, the pain, the despair. When my muscles ache, when my pride is wounded, my inner confidence shaken, I know I am facing my summit. All of this feels tangible and real, just like the coldness of the mountain, the crisp air and the defining moments.

We have all been there. I am still there from time to time. Knowing I am worthy of the effort, the effort of me helping me, of those around me helping too. Not alone...alone in an unforgiving landscape with nowhere to turn. There is community and connection even in the stillness, under the layers of snow and ice, water is running. Energy is within reach.

When I was 13, my folks took me on a road trip of a lifetime. We spent a month on motorcycles traveling the west. We visited the Tetons, Glacier, Monument Valley, Yellowstone, the Rockies, and the ultimate, the Grand Canyon. We trained on the railroad tracks for months back home, walking in tennis shoes, trying to get our bodies in shape for the big hike down into the bottom of the canyon. My parents were in their late forties at the time, in pretty good shape, and I of course, was 13 so no road rash yet. Just an attitude. Not knowing what was about to happen. The purely life-altering hike that would change my life.

I hated those walks. I was always afraid of the trains, and we would sometimes cover 15 miles on the weekends when I felt like playing with my friends. I complained. A lot. But the day we traveled down the trail, 15 miles and roughly 13 hours into the bottom of the canyon to Phantom Ranch, where mom passed out by the river after one beer, (It was a really tough hike.) I felt so good. I understood why my dad made me train like that. He knew it was going to be hard.

I remember more the climb out. We had to stop every 50 paces. My parents both lost toenails on that hike. It was that hard. Multiple climate zones, steep inclines, people giving up along the way, too tired to go on.

Throughout the years, I feel like I have faced some very real fears, both physically and mentally, and I have carried those feelings from that summer long ago, the discipline of training for something big, sourcing the power of the mind, relying on it throughout many challenges, many summits. Drinking in the air and energy around me, sustaining me for what is next.

The sun comes up as it always does. It warms the face and the breath, and it gives direction in the darkness. The elevation makes it harder to breathe but it's often times one foot in front of the other, a slow and laborious movement that requires golf-like concentration (the mind games!) and the knowledge that the climb will take time. And it's ok to rest.

There are things that create obstacles, whether by one's own making or the company we keep or purely by accident. Obstacles are very real things. Climbing over them and reaching the summit of whatever trail you are on, can become the focus and vision. I know it has become mine.

I look forward to every new climb, every new day as an opportunity to feel the sun on my face, the warmth in my breath, the reasons for being alive, the true essence of why I do these things. I have so long to go. I have many obstacles.

Yet, I have connection to people and things that matter. I have community. I just have to remain still and present. Waiting for the ice to melt just a little. For the Summit to show its paths and direction, one foot in front of the other. From within this place comes the drive to create openings for others, personally and professionally. The drive and purpose are there every morning when I awake and when I close my eyes at night to sleep, recharge, and dream.

Take time to align your vision with your destination. Sit in it. Walk with it. Let is shine on your face and warm you. Reach deep within you and with those around you. You are part of a community and a connection. Let the path you take today take you a few steps closer to reaching your summit. Never mind the ice, the heat, the incline or the obstacles. They are all part of the journey. They are all part of reaching for the top of whatever mountain you are on. Remember, you are not alone.