The Mountain Changes. The Practice Remains.
People sometimes ask me:
“After Everest, what’s left?”
After climbing the highest mountain on every continent.
After skiing to the North Pole and South Pole.
After becoming the first Asian woman to complete the Explorer’s Grand Slam.
What mountain is left to climb?
It’s a reasonable question.
From the outside, it can look as though the journey is complete.
As though the biggest goals have already been achieved.
As though the story has already been written.
But what I’ve learned over the years is this:
The mountain was never the point.
The point was who I became while climbing it.
Sixteen years after standing on the summit of Everest, I no longer think much about the summit itself.
What stays with me are the lessons.
The growth.
The courage.
The person I became through the pursuit.
And perhaps most importantly, the realization that there is always another mountain.
Not necessarily a physical one.
A meaningful one.
When I was younger, my mountains were literal mountains.
Everest.
Denali.
Vinson.
The North Pole.
The South Pole.
Those goals stretched me in ways I could never have imagined.
They demanded courage, discipline, sacrifice, and persistence.
But once those journeys ended, something surprised me.
The desire to grow did not disappear.
The desire to contribute did not disappear.
The desire to pursue meaningful challenges did not disappear.
If anything, it became stronger.
Today, my mountains look very different.
Today, my mountains include building a speaking business.
Developing ideas that can help people lead with greater courage.
Creating keynotes that inspire people to pursue goals they once thought were beyond them.
Reaching audiences I have not yet reached.
Building a body of work that will outlast any summit photo.
And I have discovered something fascinating.
The emotions feel remarkably similar.
The uncertainty feels familiar.
The self-doubt feels familiar.
The setbacks feel familiar.
The long middle feels familiar.
Some days I feel confident.
Other days I wonder whether I’m making progress at all.
Some days I feel close to a breakthrough.
Other days the summit seems farther away than ever.
In other words, I am still climbing.
The terrain has changed.
The practice remains.
That realization has changed how I think about impossible goals.
When I was younger, I believed impossible goals were destinations.
Now I believe they are invitations.
Invitations to grow.
Invitations to discover capabilities we didn’t know we possessed.
Invitations to become larger versions of ourselves.
Most of the rewards arrive long before the summit.
The courage you build.
The relationships you form.
The confidence that comes from keeping promises to yourself.
The lessons you learn about who you are when things become difficult.
Those are the rewards that endure.
The summit itself is often surprisingly brief.
What lasts is who you become.
That is why I still pursue goals that feel slightly beyond my reach.
Not because I need another accomplishment.
Not because I need another title.
Not because I need another mountain.
I pursue them because growth lives there.
Meaning lives there.
Possibility lives there.
And because every time we step toward something that stretches us, we expand our understanding of what is possible.
Not only for ourselves.
But for the people watching us.
Sixteen years ago, I stood on top of Everest.
Today, I am pursuing a different set of mountains.
I don’t know exactly where they will lead.
I don’t know exactly what the summits will look like.
But I know this:
The practice remains the same.
Keep showing up.
Keep learning.
Keep growing.
Keep taking the next step.
Because the mountain changes.