Have you ever heard of Mount Whitney?

I hadn’t.

At least, not until my friend Heather called me in May & said, “Do you want to do this trek with me?”

Mount Whitney is the highest mountain in the contiguous United States, reaching 14,050 feet above sea level. It had been on Heather’s bucket list for years. It was a family tradition of sorts. Her grandfather summited Mount Whitney every 20 years until he could no longer do it.

So when Heather asked, it took me about 30 seconds to say yes.

What I didn’t know was exactly what I had just said yes to.

Five days.

57 miles.

14,000 feet of elevation gain.

A 40-pound pack on my back.

And a summit at 14,050 feet.

Oh.

I honestly had no idea if I could do it.

I’d never trekked that high. I didn’t know how my body would respond to hiking at altitude. I’d backpacked before, but never on a five-day trip where I was carrying essentially everything I needed on my back.

I was intimidated.

Which, I’ve come to realize, is often when I say yes.

As the summer went on, I probably thought about canceling at least six times. Maybe more.

I couldn’t leave the business that long.

I couldn’t leave Bruce & the dogs.

There was too much going on.

Maybe this was just too much physically.

I had plenty of very reasonable excuses.

But I went.

And that may have been the first lesson.

Sometimes you don’t know what you’re capable of until you agree to find out.

There were nine of us hikers & two guides when we started. We began above 10,000 feet, so there was no easing into the elevation.

Within the first 24 hours, six people had dropped out.

Just like that, there were three of us hikers & one guide.

And somehow, the three of us who remained were incredibly compatible.

It felt a little like throwing all the cards in the air & seeing how they were going to fall.

I remember thinking, somehow, this is going to be perfect.

And it was.

There was something beautiful about not knowing exactly how the trip was going to unfold & simply being where I was.

Walking.

Climbing.

Eating.

Sleeping.

Repeating.

One day at a time.

On day three, we summited Mount Whitney.

Thunderstorms & lightning were predicted, so we had to leave in the dark.

I had never hiked in the dark.

Turns out, I loved it.

There was nothing to look at.

No scenery.

No distractions.

Just my feet.

My breath.

The person in front of me.

One step at a time.

And surprisingly, I made it to the summit with much more ease than I had imagined.

Don’t get me wrong. There is nothing easy about summiting Mount Whitney.

But my imagination had made it much harder than the actual experience.

And that may have been the biggest lesson of all.

How often do we make something harder in our heads before we ever experience it?

Standing on top of Mount Whitney, you can see for what feels like forever.

It was a clear day, & the landscape stretched out in every direction.

But the biggest perspective shift happened after I came home.

All the things I had been stressed about before I left were still there.

The business was still there.

Life was still life.

But somehow, they didn’t carry quite the same weight.

When you carry everything you need on your back for five days, don’t shower, get dirty, sleep on the ground & become completely unfazed by how you’re going to use the bathroom, some things get really clear.

You realize how little you actually need.

And how many things we give far more importance than they deserve.

That perspective has stayed with me.

I hear versions of this question all the time in my real estate business:

Of course, there are numbers to consider. Financial realities. Market conditions. Life circumstances.

Those things matter.

But sometimes there’s another question worth asking:

Heather invited me into an adventure I could have easily talked myself out of.

Instead, I said yes.

And figured out the rest later.

I’m glad I did.

Because sometimes everything doesn’t need to be perfectly lined up before you take the first step.

Sometimes you just need to be willing to take it.

I see this in real estate all the time.

A move to Portland.

A first home.

A downsizing decision.

A new chapter after a divorce or loss.

A move closer to family.

An investment property.

A home that finally feels like the right fit.

The decision rarely comes with absolute certainty.

Sometimes you gather the information you can, trust your gut, get the right support around you & take the next step.

I don’t think courage means you’re not afraid.

I was definitely afraid.

For me, courage was saying yes while I was still intimidated.

It was taking the next step when I couldn’t see the whole trail.

It was trusting myself enough to find out what I was capable of.

And honestly, that’s one of the things I love most about real estate.

Buying a home can be intimidating.

Selling a home can be intimidating.

Starting over, downsizing, moving across the country, investing, making a big change — none of it comes with a guarantee that everything will go exactly as planned.

There are a lot of unknowns.

Just like a mountain trail.

You don’t need to know how you’re going to get all 57 miles.

You just need to take the next step.

And then the next one.

And then the next.

Until one day, you look up…

And you’re standing somewhere you once wondered if you could reach.

I went to Mount Whitney thinking I was going to challenge myself physically.

I did.

But I came home with something else.

A little more perspective.

A little more trust in myself.

And a reminder that sometimes the things that intimidate us are exactly the things that expand our world.

I’m really glad I said yes.

What’s something you’ve said yes to that took you somewhere you never expected?

I’d love to hear.