The Best Version of Me

confidently writing about confidence

I learned a lot about myself on my recent long hike. I let my brain wander - I figured things out - I got my head on straight.

Maybe it came from the simplicity of focusing on one clear goal each day: just keep walking and try not to die. Maybe it’s the quiet. Or maybe it’s that when we’re stripped of almost all distractions and have time to think, we start to see who we truly are and what we’re capable of.

For me, a long hike has always been a mirror. On the trail, confidence doesn’t come from controlling outcomes. It comes from trusting our ability to respond. You can’t control the weather, the terrain, or where to find the next water source. You can only trust that you’ll respond well when it matters.

That simple shift - from control to trust - changes everything. And it’s where real confidence begins.

Where Real Confidence Comes From

For a lot of people, confidence means certainty. You study, you prepare, you know the answer, you are ready. But the trail has a way of burning away those illusions. You can’t study your way out of a 3,000-foot climb in the heat of Northern California, or prepare for a waist-deep river crossing in the Sierra.

At some point, you just have to trust yourself to keep moving forward.

That’s where real confidence takes root. It doesn’t start in what we know, but instead in how we handle what we don’t. It’s built through action, through showing up, and through the hundreds of small choices that prove to us that we can do whatever is in front of us.

When you’re on trail long enough, that becomes second nature. You stop looking at the map every mile. You stop catastrophizing every unknown. You ignore any fear-mongering. You move forward, prepare to adapt, and start to notice how capable you’ve become.

I did a few stupid things on trail. Once I decided to glissade (slide on my butt) down a steep slope. Before I slid more than ten feet, I knew I had made a very bad choice. Fortunately, I grew up hiking and sliding on snow, and automatically and instinctively did what I had to do to stop and keep myself from getting hurt…or worse. I made a mistake, I confidently recovered, and I learned an important lesson. That moment reminded me that confidence isn’t avoiding mistakes - it’s knowing I’ll handle them well.

Back in the “real world,” that same mindset applies. We face uncertainty every day - at work, in relationships, in decisions about the future. We try things and learn from our mistakes. We can’t control the outcomes of our decisions at work either, but we can trust our ability to respond.

And that’s where confidence lives.

The Transparency Loop

Something clicked for me recently that seems obvious now but wasn’t before: confidence and transparency are inseparable.

When I’m confident, I can be transparent - I can say, “Here’s what I know, here’s what I don’t, and here’s what I’m trying to do.”

And when I’m transparent, I grow more confident - because I’m not performing, I’m just being myself. That loop - confidence feeding transparency, and transparency reinforcing confidence - creates trust. Both internally, and with others.

When I’m new to leading a team, I encourage people to ask questions…about anything. Sometimes, I have a quick answer. Sometimes, I work out an answer in real time - letting them see how I work and figure things out. A lot of times, I answer - “I don’t know, but I’ll try to figure it out and get back to you”. Over my years of leadership, many team members have told me that they like to see me work out problems in front of them, and they appreciate me admitting when I don’t know an answer.

It’s funny how many leaders get this backward. They think confidence means projecting certainty - that being open about what you don’t know will undermine trust. But that’s not confidence. That’s performance - and it doesn’t work. Real confidence is being able to say, “I don’t know yet, but I’ll figure it out.”

And when people see that kind of calm, open honesty, they respond. They trust you - because they can see that you trust yourself.

The Confidence Muscle

Since coming home from the PCT, I’ve been trying to keep that loop alive - maintaining off-trail confidence in small, deliberate ways. Confidence, like hiking fitness, fades if you don’t exercise it. The trail gives it to you through repetition. Every day on trail, I succeeded in doing something difficult. Back at home, I have to create those moments myself.

For me, that looks like getting back to the gym, getting things done around the house, writing, thinking, and eventually - finding some work that I love. None of it’s flashy, but these small acts of completion remind me that I’m more than capable of doing just about anything I want - confidently.

It’s been amazing how calming and confidence-building it’s been to start writing again. Before the hike, I was burned out on writing (and a lot of other parts of life). I’m not burned out on anything right now - I’m calm, happy, and I feel good.

There’s power in competence and in the quiet satisfaction of doing something well. We underestimate how much confidence comes from simply being good at things, and giving ourselves space to practice them (including making mistakes and learning).

It’s not about perfection. It’s about momentum. Confidence grows when we take actions, even small ones, and then trust our ability to handle what comes next. Confidence doesn’t need grand gestures — it grows quietly through consistency and trust in ourselves.

From the Trail to Everyday Life

Hiking the PCT didn’t exactly change who I am - but it stripped away everything that isn’t essential so I could see what was left. I’m still me…but a better version of me. When I stripped away the non-essential parts (of my pack, and of myself), I let go of anxiety, worries, and stress that had interfered with my success.

When I look back at the times I’ve felt most like myself - calm, clear, and capable - they’ve always shared the same pattern:

• I focused on what I could control.

• I trusted my ability to handle what I couldn’t.

• And I was honest, with myself and with others, about the difference.

Slowly, but steadily, I’m beginning to feel like I belong in civilization again. I’m resisting the urge to lick my plate after I eat (not always successful), and I’m enjoying the miracles of modern plumbing. On the trail, I was happy being my true self. I did what I needed to do to be successful every day. I entertained myself by being silly and goofy. I enjoyed the people around me, and treated them with kindness and respect.

That’s the mindset I’m trying to keep now.

Confidence isn’t loud. It doesn’t need to prove anything. It’s quiet, steady, and transparent. It’s the voice that tells you, “I can do this, and I’m good at it.”

The Practice of Confidence

Confidence isn’t a permanent state - it’s a practice. It’s not something we find on the trail and bring home in a pack. It’s something we build, step by step, through every decision, every repair, every small win that reminds us what we’re capable of doing.

The trail doesn’t make life easier. It just makes the lesson clearer: we don’t need control to feel confident. We just need trust - in ourselves, in our ability to respond, and in the people who walk beside us.

That’s how I keep becoming the best version of me - step by step.

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See you on the trail.