Surpassing Self-Imposed Limitations

Over breakfast in Buenos Aires a couple of months ago, my partner enthusiastically described a 4-day backpacking trip through Argentina's Glacier National Park in Patagonia.
Each time he mentioned it, I perfected my art of noncommittal nodding, silently building a wall of "no" behind my practiced "uh-huhs." My strategy was simple: look away, keep nodding, and maybe this wild idea would fade away like morning mist.

My mind raced with excuses: we weren't prepared, the equipment wasn't right, and I despised carrying weight—I even avoided carrying purses. When I suggested an easier alternative of day hikes from a base camp, I saw disappointment cloud his face. My passive nodding had let him build this dream, and now I was crushing it.

Three weeks later, I stood at our campground in El Chaltén, staring in disbelief at our overflowing backpacks at the foot of the Andes. Like Cheryl Strayed with her "Monster" backpack in "Wild," I couldn't imagine carrying all this weight. The first hour was brutal—glacial winds whipped at my face as I cursed internally, struggling to stay upright.

But something shifted as we pressed on. The backpack became less of a burden and more of a companion. I discovered strength I didn't know I possessed, finding gratitude for my body's capabilities. Last weekend, we went on another backpacking trip, this time packing only what we needed. I moved through the trail with the ease of someone who'd been doing this for years, barely giving a second thought to what once seemed so daunting. What once loomed like an insurmountable obstacle became just another trail marker in my journey.

Perceived limitations are just that—perceptions. Each time I step outside my comfort zone, it expands, until what once seemed impossible becomes just another part of who I am.