Beyond the False Summit: The Choice Between Comparison and Celebration
The dust lingered heavy in the sweet smell of the pines in the heat. Mid-afternoon in the western mountains have a different sort of presence. They come with arid soils, and robust pines, and a breeze that often feels more like a convection oven than a reprieve from the heat. These conditions make traveling by foot in them a challenge, let alone traveling upward in them.
At 10,000 feet, bells ding in airplanes, letting you know that Wi-Fi is available and that you are approaching cruising altitude in your traveling recliner, careening through space and time. Soon you will be offloaded into a bustling airport furthering your access to amenities. Yet, in this airport, everyone is disgruntled. Delays, cancellations, duration, driving their frustrations. The place is full of humans absent of any real struggle, upset about self-imposed struggle.
The Mountain Within
In the mountains, she works through a multitude of emotions while she covers the first three miles and 3,000 feet of elevation, in the heat, and with little retreat. Real fear of life and survival takes the place of imposed fears of comfort. "Can I really do this?" is the lingering question in her mind.
What lives on the backside of finding that answer is a lot more promising than any destination those air travelers are headed to. Even if it's the wedding of their dreams. Bold statement for sure, but knowing what you are really made of always trumps whatever you are running away from.
With the last step and tap of her poles, she, alongside her team and colleagues, reaches her objective. The elevation dries the air, the dust fills the nostrils, the burn of her muscles all arrive alongside her. She had, despite all the stories in her mind, done it. She was, despite all the moments of doubt, capable. And in that moment, she should have known that she is capable of great things. Her team did.
The "Yeah, But" Syndrome
However, the trail splits off from here. Two other destinations live at either end. This summit of hers immediately becomes a false summit in her mind. Rather than accepting the success of her objective, she allows the reality of these two new opportunities to take over her internal narrative.
"Yeah, but I didn't go all the way" was going to fit way easier into her story of herself than "I did it" would.
As the team splinters to achieve a further objective, one riddled with complexity like Grade 4 boulder scrambles and snowfield traverses that she doesn’t have the skills for, they tear off — and with them, the victory she allows them to take. As if their forward movement makes her accomplishment insignificant.
The Mimetic Suffering
Her story, this story, is not at all uncommon. It is the story of mimetic suffering — and it’s present in all of us. It's too common for people like us, who read blogs like this, to achieve objectives we set out to do, only to be met with self-imposed realization that we could — or worse, should — be able to do more.
If suffering is wanting that which is otherwise, few things sound more like suffering than denying yourself celebration of achievement simply because someone else has done more.
The truth is, they have skills and experience she doesn't have. Yet. And that's the key word. Yet. They amassed these skills because they, too, found themselves on the backside of ability. So they conditioned and developed skills unique to situations like these. Ones that will carry them a bit farther than most. However, for many on that trail, it feels like defeat when others can continue and they can't. Almost instantly, they set a new goal they have already failed at, rather than cherishing the one they just accomplished.
False Summits vs. Impossible Summits
False summits are very prevalent in the wilderness. You reach what you think is the peak, only to realize there is more to go. This is a struggle of journey, and one you overcome by simply moving forward.
There is another prevalent summit in my experience, and that is one of Impossible Summits — and they’re more common than anything else. It is the act of setting sight and success on an insurmountable goal or objective simply because others have; when "should" replaces the reality of "could."
You don’t appreciate the promotion because someone else still outranks you. You hit your revenue goals but don’t celebrate because a competitor earns more. You trade gratitude for disappointment, forgetting what you’ve done and thinking only of what you should’ve done. The list could go on.
In the mountains, this looked like her being disappointed in her victory because others had their own victories to pursue that were beyond hers.
We rarely ever consider ability and ecology in this objective-based arbitrage.
The Ripple Effect
At camp, around the fire, the group joked and laughed, having shaken the fatigue of the day. They were left with reflection and gratitude. The air was thick with pride and success, a “we did it” vibe threaded among the team.
Except for her.
Her story started with "Yeah but" instead of "Can you believe," and that simple, and personal, "yeah but" landed like a thunderstorm among the group. Yet the silence that falls post-thunderclap paled in comparison to the air leaving the room. The team that had just moments before been filled with the satisfaction that comes from working together to achieve a goal now hesitated: “Did we fall short?”
While she was simply working through her own stories, what she unknowingly was doing was stripping her teammates of their own story of success. Now they all sat pensively and introspective.
Impossible summits are more nefarious than simply setting ourselves up to fail; they also tend to nuke those around us as well. They set us up to remind us of our insignificance, and that reminder lets us remind those around us, causing them to be caught up in our impossible summits as well.
None of this is intentional, of course. No one sets out to derail others. It's just the empathetic fallout of the behavior.
The Self-Fulfilling Cloud
Every day, everyone achieves something. Even if it's just waking up. But the list of "that's not good enough" always trumps the list of "I can't believe I did it." And for those who are unaware of this subconscious scorekeeping, it causes a black cloud to follow them around. A self-fulfilling black cloud. When your story becomes loud enough, people start to believe it. If that story is always one of "yeah but," you become the person who is a "yeah but." "He’s such a good guy, but ..."; "He always pulls it off, but ..."; "He has so much potential, but ..." The world starts to believe you — and worse, the universe seems to match it.
But luckily, we have seen the antithesis. The ones who succeed despite the odds. The ones who carry themselves with new regard. The ones who have a new bounce in their step. "He is such a good human." "He always gets it done." "He is going places." Their lives are regarded in periods. They are absolutions. They are just who they are; they are not followed by a "but." The difference? They relish their summits; they don't get caught up in others'. This confidence wears well on them. It becomes obvious to those around them, and as such, it seems to flow to them like water rather than being repelled like unwanted rain.
The Two-Part Equation
Success is a two-part equation. It's one part personal victory, one part social celebration. However, of us reading this too have stood at the crossroads of trail and summit and dismissed our personal victories, denying our subsequent celebrations based on our own stories and narratives. We have all fulfilled our own self-doubting prophecies more times than we should.
False summits are par for the course. Hidden summits are always prevalent. However, impossible summits are a choice, and one that serves no champion except perpetuating self-doubt. Chase summits, even if hidden. But don't choose impossible summits simply because they tell you a familiar story.
Write a new one.
The Comfort Fallacy
When you chase real summits with real risks and greater rewards, you dismantle the self-imposed learned behavior of self-imposed suffering. Replacing created struggles with real ones, imagined risks with real ones, and impossible summits with real ones, you begin to appreciate the role discomfort plays in life, and you learn the lie that comfort has sold you in its place.
Comfort is a fallacy for humanity. The airport is a proving ground. The office is a proving ground. The grocery store, the mall, the Amazon carts — they all are proof that our new world of comfort sets us up for more discomfort. It's solely predicated on comparison.
In the wild, however, the natural world doesn't care about comparison, only who you are. You learn a lot more about yourself in the discomfort of a trail than you will in a board room. I've never seen someone learn they don't like themselves in nature, but I've seen a lot of people hate themselves in the office.
Reclaim Your Summits
Are you trapped in the cycle of "yeah, but" thinking? Do you find yourself dismissing your achievements because they don't measure up to someone else's mountain? At Paradigm Collective, we specialize in helping high-achievers recognize and celebrate their authentic summits instead of chasing impossible ones.
Our "Summit Psychology" framework helps you distinguish between false summits (which require persistence) and impossible summits (which require recalibration). Through our process, you'll learn to set goals based on your current skills and ecology rather than mimetic comparison to others.
Ready to transform your relationship with achievement? Join our FirePit experience, where we'll take you into the wilderness to face real challenges that reveal your true capabilities, away from the comparative comfort zones that breed artificial suffering. Discover what you're truly made of and write a new story of celebration rather than comparison.