When The Journey Outweighs The Record

In 1993, my wife Bridget and I embarked on a journey that took us to the foot of Mount Kilimanjaro, with the ambitious goal of running up and down its slopes faster than anyone had before. Our plan was straightforward: spend a few days in Arusha, Tanzania, watching wildlife, then acclimatize to the high altitude, and finally, make a record-breaking speed run to the summit and back.

Our team consisted of Bridget, my wife; Kevin Cooney, Jenny Lamott, Ed Pope, and Betty Pope – close friends who shared our passion for adventure. However, two days before our climb, everything changed. Bridget came down with malaria. In that moment, I wasn't thinking about setting records or achieving goals; I was worried about her health and well-being.

Thanks to prompt medical care, Bridget began to recover, and to my surprise, she started feeling stronger as we climbed higher into the mountains. By the time we reached the upper slopes of Kilimanjaro, our focus shifted from records to seeing each other succeed. We had finally achieved what truly mattered – spending quality time together and witnessing Bridget's resilience in the face of illness.

Reaching Uhuru Peak, 19,340 feet above sea level, just as the sun was setting over the African plains, was a moment I will never forget. Bridget's smile that day was different from what I had seen before – it was hard-earned, radiant, and defiant in the face of adversity.

Two days later, Kevin and I were supposed to start our record-breaking run. But my motivation was gone, until we met Yonas Louwa, a 120-year-old local who had climbed Kilimanjaro back in 1889. He told us that his journey wasn't about the time or the summit but about the people you meet and the stories you gather along the way.

This conversation reframed everything for me. Our speed attempt was no longer a quest for a record; it had become another chapter in our shared story – a reminder that experiences, not achievements, are what truly matter.

The next morning, Kevin and I set out on our journey. As we ran through the rainforests dripping with mist, across high-alpine marshes, and up into the barren moonscape near the top of Kilimanjaro, I found myself noticing the smallest details – dew hanging from grass blades, the rhythm of my breathing, and the play of light across distant ridges.

I was running, but I was also fully present. We eventually broke the world record: 42 miles and over 13,000 feet, from the park gate to the summit and back, in an incredible 12 hours and 45 minutes. However, as we sat down to eat spaghetti that Bridget and Jenny had prepared, surrounded by friends, it was clear that the real win wasn't about the clock.

In business, as in life, we're often conditioned to chase metrics like revenue, market share, 'firsts,' and 'fastests.' But those fade. The experiences you live through, the people you share them with, and the perspective they give you – those are the true returns on investment. Kilimanjaro reminded me that accomplishments may be fleeting, but experiences, especially those with other people, compound over time.

And sometimes, the most important summit isn't the one we planned to climb – it's the ones we discover along the way, where our journey and its people become the true summits of life.