A hundred metres from Everest: why we stop before the finish

When I was young, I listened open-mouthed to experienced climbers’ stories. Glaciers, friendships stronger than steel cable, and mountains that changed people. I watched their slides — yes, I am that old-school — and dreamed of standing on a summit myself, looking down on the world in the good sense of the phrase.

I have kept my love of mountains. Professional mountaineering is about as close to my abilities as walking to the Moon, but I regularly make room for this passion. There are winding roads that make your head spin and buses where an emergency hammer is fixed to a rail with blue electrical tape, that magical substance holding half the universe together. There are also people willing to exchange an office chair and a Senior Manager title for a tent, cold weather and no Wi-Fi. It is easy to recognise your own Hero’s Journey in such a trip.

I often compare a career or a business to a climb. The goal becomes the summit, the plan becomes the route, and your backpack holds knowledge, skills and available energy. Below is base camp, where you can discuss the route, warm your hands around a cup and postpone setting off a little longer.

The picture makes it tempting to laugh at people who spend years talking about a brilliant idea. I know the wish to stay beside the fire myself. Yet from outside, you cannot always see what keeps someone there: limited money, caring responsibilities, exhaustion or a lost interest in the summit itself.

A journal can do a modest, clear job here: provide space for resources, costs, agreements and a next step. It lets you check the route before taking on another commitment.

I am particularly interested in the moment when most of the work is behind you, yet reasons to wait suddenly multiply. A meeting gets postponed, the final revision takes another week, a decision remains unsigned. Sometimes anxiety about change is involved. Sometimes an error in the plan, fatigue or a previously overlooked risk comes into view.

I find it useful to look at this moment through four concerns. They do not account for every reason to stop, but they help me ask specific questions.

A larger role often brings more attention. You have to speak publicly, name the price of your work and answer uncomfortable questions. That brings to mind a coarse joke: the higher a monkey climbs, the more clearly everyone below can see its backside. Laughter eases some tension, but you still have to decide what you are willing to show other people.

Try separating actual danger from anticipated judgement. The former calls for concrete safety measures or legal and financial advice. For the latter, preparing an answer, limiting publicity or talking with someone you trust may help.

When your work or responsibilities change, familiar conversations may no longer hold everything that is happening to you. Friends remain important even when they lack experience of your particular situation. Meanwhile, new colleagues are not yet close friends.

Rather than conclude that it is always lonely at the top, consider who could help you discuss a professional decision and who you would simply enjoy spending an evening with. One person does not have to understand every part of your life.

Before a new stage, you notice how many promises you will make and how many people you will depend on. The familiar thought appears: “I’d better do everything myself.” But an overloaded leader can also let a team down.

Agreements about authority, deadlines, reviewing work and responding to delays help here. Trust is easier to build when both sides understand their responsibilities and when they need to report difficulties.

One step from the finish, a question may appear: “I’ll get up there — and then what?” This can feel particularly unsettling when a goal has organised your life for a long time. The answer need not contain another, higher summit. You may first need rest, time with people you love or a chance to live without the next competition.

In your notes, separate three things: what completion itself will bring, what you expect from other people’s recognition and how you want to live afterwards. A goal that has lost its meaning also gives you information for a decision.

I know that feeling: the finish seems one final push away, yet my legs feel weak and my mind offers a thousand reasons to return to a warm camp. At such a moment, it is worth checking your equipment, energy and direction. On a real mountain, turning back because conditions are dangerous is part of responsible climbing. In life, completion also has a cost you can assess.

When someone can explain a decision, ask for help and honour an agreement, it is easier to walk alongside them. That is the understanding of charisma I relate to. If you want to sort through your thoughts before the next step, you can use a MriyaRun journal or an ordinary notebook. Let the view from the summit remain a reason to prepare for a journey that leaves you enough strength to come back too.