Staring across the bergschrund, a lump forms in my throat and my stomach churns. Before me lies a deep, dark blue void—a seemingly bottomless icy crevasse at the top of the glacier. The sight is both awe-inspiring and terrifying. Cold air surrounds me, and the sound of water dripping somewhere in the blackness below adds to the tension. When I peer into the darkness, a sense of dread overtakes me. The summit isn’t far from this point. We’re so close, but somehow, it doesn’t feel certain that I’ll ever reach it.

Seven-years ago I got a PR in a 5k. My time was twenty-minutes – zero seconds.

Almost a sub-twenty…almost.

This was at fifty-years old.  Just six months later I qualified for the Boston marathon for the fourth time and did it with time to spare all the while holding back knowing it was just a ‘B’ race.

Later that year I finished the Leadville 100 run and bike just separated by a week (the bike just after the cut-off).

It all felt easy…

The end of one year and the start of the next can feel heavy as an athlete.

There’s pressure to reset.

To recommit.

To decide right now what kind of season this is going to be.

Speaking for myself, I’m midst of planning and plotting next year’s races — entering race lotteries—creating training plans.

For some athletes, goal setting feels motivating. For others, it brings anxiety, self-doubt, or a quiet sense of dread, especially if you’re coming off injury, burnout, or a season that didn’t unfold the way you hoped.

If that’s you, it’s often not a motivation issue. It’s a sign that goal setting is missing context.

This is a different way to start the year.
One that keeps ambition intact while reducing unnecessary pressure.