Climbing Mountains…For What?

As a native Coloradan, I’ve always loved the mountains. And I love hiking in the mountains. But I’ve come to realize that loving the mountains doesn’t mean the same thing to everyone.

Recently, with the world feeling especially heavy, I escaped to my happy place: a quiet trail winding along a river, dotted with Aspens that shimmer like glitter in the breeze. This particular trail doesn’t have a defined ending. You could keep going for 60 miles if you wanted. I gave myself permission to wander and turn around whenever it felt right.

A few miles in, I came across a bench facing the river and a snow-capped peak. I sat. I breathed. I listened to the water. I let myself just be.

And then I heard a trail runner behind me: footsteps, rhythmic breathing, and that unmistakable whoosh of someone moving with purpose. As someone who’s tried and failed (twice) to get into running, trail runners remain a mystery to me. I tuned him out and turned back to the view.

A couple of weeks ago, I stumbled into a local art fair and found myself drawn to a booth showcasing “high altitude photography.” The artist had just returned from climbing Mt. Everest. Apparently, it’s rare for people climbing Everest to haul a tripod and full photography gear, so his photos – raw, breathtaking shots from the summit – had caught National Geographic’s attention.

Just three years ago, this same guy was working in finance in Miami. Now? He climbs mountains for a living.

We started talking, and I shared what I love most about hiking: untouched beauty, the vastness that makes me feel both inspired and small. He nodded knowingly.

And it hit me: we all climb mountains, but we don’t climb them for the same reason.

I climb for peace. For clarity. For soul-filling self-care.

The trail runner climbs for endurance, for the challenge.

My friend (the checklist hiker) climbs to reach the summit – to cross it off the list, eat a protein bar at the top, and power back down.

The photographer climbs to share something beautiful with others.

Each one of us prepares differently. I bring water and often wear less-than-ideal shoes. The runner comes strapped with hydration packs and high-tech footwear. My friend carries a pack full of supplies in case we’re stranded. And the photographer? He trained with specialists for months and carried a tripod to the top of the world.

The definition of success is different, too. I measure it by how full I feel when I return. My friend measures it by the summit. The photographer? That perfect shot.

Four different hikers. Four different whys.

So, why does this matter for school leaders?

Because we’re all climbing mountains.

Whether you’re leading a school through change, growing a new program, building faculty culture, or trying to move your community forward – you’re climbing.

But have you asked yourself why?

Are you climbing to get to the summit (finish the initiative, check the box)? To push yourself and see what you’re capable of? To nourish your community? To share a vision with others?

There’s no single right answer. But the answer shapes everything: how you prepare, what success looks like, what gear you bring, and who you bring with you.

When leaders aren’t clear on their “why,” they often find themselves hiking the wrong trail, or resenting the climb altogether.

So this week, I invite you to reflect:

• What mountain am I climbing right now in my work?

• Why am I climbing it?

• Do I feel like I’m hiking in the right way, with the right people and the right gear?

• What does success actually look like for me in this journey?

• And how am I helping my team or faculty connect with their why?

The trail is long. The climb can be steep. But if we’re clear on why we’re climbing, the view – whether it’s the summit, the river, or a shimmering stand of Aspens – is always worth it.