I had planned to write about why most small business owners fail at hiring their first salesperson, but that can wait. Today, I want to share something more personal—a story that’s less about strategy and more about the internal battles we all face. It’s about fear, embracing uncertainty, and trusting the process. It’s about the deep lessons learned while through hiking the Grand Canyon post Yellowstone and Sedona a few weeks ago… alone.

I felt like Reese Witherspoon in Wild, standing there at the trailhead, knowing the journey ahead would break me open in ways I couldn’t predict—forcing me to face both the raw, beautiful world and the demons within. But I also knew it was exactly what I needed. It was an adventure I’d dreamed about for years, one I’d had to postpone due to COVID. In hindsight, I’m glad I waited. The cooler weather made the trek more bearable, but more importantly, it came at the exact right moment in my life to take that leap. 

For context, I’m no stranger to adventure. I’ve jumped out of planes, bungee jumped off the third-highest platform in the world, hiked to the top of Mount Doom, and backpacked solo across the globe. But standing at the edge of the Grand Canyon? That fear hit me like a freight train.

Maybe it was the stories of hikers who didn’t make it. Maybe it was the twisted images my mind conjured up after watching films like Woman of the Hour. Or maybe it was just the realization that I was about to embark on 12-15 hours of solitary hiking in one of the world’s most unforgiving terrains. And let’s be honest and not forget my sense of direction—I get lost on the way to Publix.

But as the universe often does, it threw me a curveball. In the best way.

The Unexpected Power of Community

I reached the trailhead, expecting isolation. Instead, I was greeted by 15 smiling faces. The Grand Canyon unfolded in front of us, a wild tapestry of reds, oranges, and purples beneath the shifting sun. The morning air, cool at first, would soon give way to the desert heat. My heart raced—not from excitement, but from the raw mixture of nerves and awe. And just like that, we were all in it together.

It was divine intervention, I’m convinced. Other than a few couples, everyone else was there solo, just like me.

We quickly formed an alliance (iykyk). We laughed, we cried, and we walked in silence when words weren’t needed. Each of us had our reasons for being there—our own challenges, fears, and dreams. And together, we carried each other through.

It reminded me of my travels to Australia, New Zealand, and Guatemala, where I met strangers who became instant allies. Time and again, I’ve learned that no matter how solo a journey begins, the right people have a way of showing up.

Lessons for Life and Business

So, what did this hike teach me?

1. Preparation Is Crucial, but So Is Flexibility
   Before starting the hike, I had my route planned, my gear packed, and my fears simmering beneath the surface. But the true magic unfolded when I let go of needing everything to go “right.” Unexpected moments—like sharing a silent stretch of trail with someone deeply processing their own journey—reminded me that the best parts of any adventure often aren’t planned.
   
   They aren't joking when they say failure is the stepping stone to success. Embracing it can be so daunting, as every failure in entrepreneurship seems bigger, and yet my champions tell me that means it is better. The perfectionist in me sometimes wants to hide, fold my clothes (and cards), and color-coordinate my closet in an attempt to regain control of my life. In business, it’s the same. You can prepare for everything, but flexibility and openness to change are where real growth happens.
   
   
2. Fear Is Just the Beginning
   I’ve done far riskier things than hiking the Grand Canyon, yet this felt different. The fear came from within. It wasn’t the unknown terrain or the possibility of physical danger; it was the stories I told myself about failing. Getting lost. Not finishing. The fear wasn’t about what could happen—it was about what I believed would happen.
   
   Our mind is a powerful tool; we have the ability to manifest both hurt and happiness. And somehow, hurt seems necessary to transcend happiness. How does that make sense? I spent hours pondering why embracing pain often leads to reward, hurting as I’m meant to hope for the best outcome. Growth happens when we lean into discomfort, whether it’s taking a professional risk, admitting how you feel about someone or hiking into the depths of a canyon with no clear end in sight. The older we get, the more easily fear’s grip can find purchase and keep us from living.
   
   I would rather die knowing I tried and was honest than look back and realize that, while my fear had merit, I let it define me. Maybe it’s a car crash, maybe it’s old age; either way, I will leave Earth one day. Having seen as much as I can of its beauty outweighs the risk of evil finding me or influencing my journey. All we can do is try our best to hold onto the purest parts of ourselves: to love without reservation and to preserve innocence in a world that demands balance.

1. You’re Never Truly Alone
   Whether it’s fellow hikers or fellow entrepreneurs, support is closer than you think. Those 15 smiling faces at the trailhead became a kind of temporary family, offering reassurance without words. In business, as in life, the right people often show up when you’re open to connection.
   
   Sometimes, we’re so focused on going at it alone that we miss the resources and support right in front of us. With media glorifying the idea of ‘disappearing’ to return as our ‘best selves,’ we forget that humanity’s greatest fuel is connection. It is okay to evolve alongside your loved ones, in fact it is better. 
   
   Human psychology has a strange tendency to celebrate its heroes as they thrive, fail, and rise again. That is because heroes do what most won't: get back up time and time again for a cause greater than themselves knowing they are walking right into danger. If they emerged unscathed every time, they’d lose their humanity—and their relatability.

Trusting the Journey

The Grand Canyon taught me to trust the journey—both the highs and the lows, the laughter and the silence. The trail was tough, but standing at the rim at the end of the hike, looking out at the vast expanse I had conquered, I realized something profound:

Whether you’re hiking a trail or building a business, it’s not about controlling every step. It’s about showing up, doing the work, and trusting that the universe will meet you halfway.