One of the questions I hear most often is:
“If you’re planning to hike the Appalachian Trail, why wait until 2030?”
The answer is simple.
Because some journeys deserve to be done right.
Could I start sooner?
Maybe.
Should I?
I don’t think so.
The Appalachian Trail will still be there.
The people who depend on me today need me now.
Preparing for a thru-hike isn’t just about walking 2,000 miles.
It’s about making sure life at home is taken care of before I leave.
I’m a husband.
I’m a father.
I have children finishing high school and beginning the next chapters of their lives. Family comes first, and I want to be present for those milestones.
I also have aging parents who won’t be around forever. Time with them is something I value deeply, and it’s not something I can get back.
Professionally, I have clients who trust me with some of the most important decisions they’ll ever make, and colleagues who rely on me every day. Those responsibilities don’t disappear simply because I have a dream.
If I’m going to spend five or six months on the trail, I want to know that I’ve done everything I can to prepare the people who depend on me—not just myself.
Then there’s the physical side of the journey.
The Appalachian Trail isn’t going anywhere, but my body needs time.
After surviving a serious motorcycle accident, I’ve spent years rebuilding what was taken away. Recovery isn’t measured in weeks or even months. Sometimes it’s measured in years.
I’m stronger today than I was yesterday, and I plan to be stronger in 2030 than I am today.
Every training walk, every mile, every piece of gear I test, and every lesson I learn is another investment in reaching Springer Mountain prepared—not just hopeful.
There is one more reason for 2030.
Living with a traumatic brain injury has taught me that good preparation isn’t optional; it’s essential.
I rely on routines, planning, checklists, and systems that help me stay organized and focused. Those habits serve me well in everyday life, and they’ll be just as important on the trail.
Giving myself time isn’t a sign of weakness.
It’s part of giving myself the best opportunity to succeed.
The world often celebrates doing things as quickly as possible.
I’ve learned that there is wisdom in being ready.
This journey isn’t about proving I can start.
It’s about proving I can finish.
When I stand on Springer Mountain in 2030, I want to know that I didn’t rush to get there.
I prepared.
Because some dreams are worth waiting for.