Ten years ago, shortly after moving to North Carolina, we fell in love with the Appalachian Trail. 320 miles of this ridge and high-peak footpath runs through our fair state.
Something about it grabbed us immediately. Maybe it was the scale. Maybe it was the beauty. Maybe it was the idea that a single footpath could stretch more than 2,000 miles from Georgia to Maine.
Over the years, we chipped away at the North Carolina sections. A weekend here. A day hike there. Thirty miles one summer. Sixty miles another.
The views never got old.
Layer upon layer of blue ridges fading into the distance. Ancient rock formations tilted skyward from a collision between continents hundreds of millions of years ago. Places that make you feel both very small and very lucky.
And then life happened.
Our business grew. Coaching clients multiplied. Our calendars filled up.
Three summers passed without loading up those trail-worn backpacks.
The number of miles we had left to complete North Carolina’s section of the Appalachian Trail remained exactly the same.
Forty.
One day this spring, we looked at each other and asked a simple question:
“If not now, when?”
That question has a way of cutting through excuses.
So we dug the tent out of storage. Loaded our packs. Bought the freeze-dried meals. Checked the water filters.
And headed for the trail.
The hike was everything we remembered.
And harder.
The first section climbed nearly 3,000 feet in seven miles. By evening we reached Wesser Bald, where a repurposed fire tower gave us front-row seats to a spectacular sunset.
The second day felt easier until the rain arrived.
Then our twelve-year-old tent reminded us that it had spent the previous three years folded in a closet.
Water dripped from unexpected places. Temperatures dropped. Sleep became elusive.
The following morning we packed away wet gear and hiked into another day of steady rain.
At some point, soaked and tired, we abandoned our original plan and pushed all the way to the car.
Eighteen miles.
One long day. “Squish, Squish, Squish” as we trudged.
When we finally reached the parking lot after dark, our aging Subaru felt like a luxury resort.
It was glorious.
It wasn’t comfortable, per se.
But it sure was memorable.
- Because it demanded something from us.
- Because it gave us a story we’ll tell for years.
And because it reminded us of something we see often in leaders.
Most people don’t get fired up by more responsibilities.
They already have plenty.
What they’re missing are aspirations.
The things that once excited them.
The adventures, experiences, projects, skills, and dreams that quietly got pushed to the side while life became busy.
Not abandoned.
Just postponed.
Stored away.
Waiting for a better time.
The problem is that “later” has a way of becoming years.
And every year we delay something meaningful, we lose a little connection to the person who wanted it in the first place.
We become highly responsible.
Highly productive.
Highly efficient.
And sometimes a little less alive.
That’s why bucket lists matter.
Not because every item needs to be completed.
But because they remind us that growth isn’t only about achievement.
It’s about engagement.
It’s about staying connected to wonder, challenge, curiosity, and possibility.
Sometimes the thing you need most isn’t another leadership book, another productivity system, or another goal.
Sometimes it’s the dream gathering dust in the corner.
The one that’s been patiently waiting for you to notice it again.
So here’s our question:
What have you put into cold storage?
What adventure, challenge, experience, or aspiration still tugs at you when you think about it?
And perhaps most importantly:
If not now, when?