A New Perspective: Reflecting On My CYTC Journey

Dear Fellow Adventurers,

When I first set out to attempt the Calendar Year Triple Crown, I thought I knew exactly what I wanted. I was chasing a dream of pushing my physical limits, proving something to myself about what I was capable of: extreme endurance and unshakable determination. But sometimes, the trail teaches you something entirely different from what you expected.

Austin, one of the co-founders of Build A Pack, has talked a lot about finding your ‘why’ before embarking on a thru-hike. It’s not that I didn’t define my ‘why’ before embarking, but moments of immense challenge, uncertainty, and a longing for community helped me truly discover what I want—what I need—most while taking on a challenge such as this.

My ‘why’ during my CYTC attempt evolved with every mile. What started as a quest to be among the 0.1% of ultra-endurance athletes transformed into a profound exploration of what matters most deep to my core. The trail showed me that my passion’s not just the miles and the speed I’m capable of—it’s about connection, experience, and understanding myself.

Some of my most powerful moments came from unexpected encounters with strangers. I'll never forget meeting a fellow hiker who survived stage four cancer—someone who reminded me that life isn't about how fast you go, but about the courage to keep moving forward. These brief interactions were trail magic, and shifted my perspective more dramatically than any mile marker could.

Community became my lifeline. Contrary to what many might imagine about a solo adventure, this journey was deeply social. I discovered that the most meaningful parts of the trail weren't about individual achievement, but about the connections I made along the way. Sharing meals, stories, and challenges with other hikers became more important than any speed record.

When I ultimately made the difficult decision to stop my attempt, it wasn't a failure—it was a revelation. I learned that pushing yourself doesn't mean breaking yourself. There's immense strength in recognizing your limits and choosing a path that brings you joy rather than constant struggle.

Processing this experience hasn't been linear. That first week back was tough. I felt a mix of disappointment and uncertainty about what my next step would be. But through talking with friends and family—and taking time to reflect on my own—I started to see the journey differently. Each conversation and moment of contemplation peeled back another layer of understanding, helping me recognize the growth that happened beyond the miles tackled.

My advice to anyone dreaming of a big adventure? Don't get lost in the numbers.

Learn to appreciate the small moments—like identifying wildflowers along the trail or sharing a sunset with a fellow hiker. Efficiency matters, but not at the cost of experiencing the journey. Most importantly, be kind to yourself. Failure isn't the opposite of success—it's a crucial part of it. Every challenge is an opportunity to learn something profound about yourself.

Today, I'm not defining myself by the miles I didn't complete, but by the perspective I gained. My outlook on adventure has fundamentally shifted. It's no longer about being the fastest or going the furthest, but about finding joy, connection, and personal growth.

To anyone hesitating to chase their dream: Go for it.

But remember, the dream might look different from how you initially imagined—and that's okay. The real adventure is in the discovery.

Onwards and upwards,