Blog

Dropping off my two riders after my 24th CHS hike on September 30th, I felt something I haven’t felt before. Not because I’d led four 17-mile graduation hikes in a month or logged over 700 miles on hiking trails so far this year — but because my body held up. Zero hip pain. No lower back pain despite carrying at least 20 pounds on every single hike this summer. Toughened feet quietly accepting a soak in the lake before continuing 8 more miles. A deep, steady “wow.” The best word I could find was amazement.

September tested my endurance as much as any high altitude summit push from climbs two decades ago. Yet as I closed the hatch, full of energy and awe, I realized the victory wasn’t about mileage, summits, or finish lines. It was about resilience.

After a year of learning, adapting, and layering in neuroscience-based techniques, I’ve finally found a way to stay strong and pain-free while leading others week after week, hike after hike. The tools I’ve been integrating — from vision drills to balance work to brain-body coordination — aren’t just theory anymore. They’re embodied, alive, and working.

That realization made me grin with satisfaction all the way back home from the park-and-ride. Now the task is to share it with the world.

Season of Leadership

In the two weeks since the second Snoqualmie Lake trip in September, the theme of completion rippled through every corner of my life. The Mountaineers CHS graduation party celebrated 69 hikers who’d completed their season-long goals — a powerful reminder of what community effort can achieve. Watching their faces light up as they picked up their commemorative T-shirt reminded me why I lead in the first place: to witness others thrive.

That same weekend, I helped co-host the 40th anniversary of Write on the Sound in Edmonds — another community of passionate learners and creative voices. Different muscles, same mission. Whether leading a hike or introducing an author presenter, I could feel the same thread running through both: a desire to help others tap into their best selves. On the trail, that might mean coaching someone down steep rocks or helping them stay hydrated. At a writing conference, it might mean creating a space where new writers feel brave enough to share their work.

And then, barely catching my breath, came our neuroscience-based Mountaineers seminar, where 42 people gathered to explore how the brain drives balance, strength, and coordination. Co-teaching with Doug felt like the natural next step in a long evolution — combining our decades of conditioning expertise with new, exciting research about how movement and the nervous system shape performance. The classroom buzzed with participation and experimentation. By the end of the night, I could see it again: people discovering something new about what their bodies and minds could do.

That’s leadership, too — guiding exploration, not just giving answers.

Season of Transition: From Summer to Fall

By early October, the long daylight hours had slipped away, and with them came a familiar mix of satisfaction and fatigue. The season had been full: multiple CHS hikes, the writing conference, the neuroscience class, and even an alumni trip up Granite Mountain for breathtaking views of fall colors. Add a few birding mornings at Union Bay to the mix, and I’d touched nearly every corner of my professional and personal passions — hiking, writing, teaching, birding, observing. And learning, always learning.

Still, I feel the tug to slow down. The body that carried me through hundreds of miles deserves a gentler rhythm. So, Ajax and I have been taking longer walks close to home, savoring the changing leaves and the crisp scent of fresh earth after rain. Our hikes may be shorter, our pace brisker to stay warm, but no less joyful.

The cold and dark invite reflection. Fall has always been my reset season — a time to review what worked, what to change, and where to head next. This year, that reflection includes gratitude that my body stayed healthy, curiosity about what we’ll teach next, and appreciation for the communities that give my work meaning.

Next week, I’m heading to Asheville for a few days — part celebration, part intentional pause. A chance to soak up fall color and peace before the year’s final stretch. To nurture and be nurtured by the ultimate nurturers, my parents. I’m calling it my “regrouping trip” — a symbolic moment to mark the transition from summer’s outward push to fall’s inward pull.

Season of Renewal: Making Space for What’s Next

Even as one season ends, another is already forming. I’ve lined up shoulder season Tuesday hikes with the Mountaineers through the end of the year. That includes a mix of several birding trips with lowland hikes in the Middle Fork and Issaquah Alps. We have two seminars to deliver before Thanksgiving, with four more slated for next spring. But there’s a deeper shift unfolding beneath the schedule: I’m beginning to make space for growth of a different kind.

For years, I’ve poured time and energy into volunteer leadership — nearly 500 hours this year alone. Every hike led, class taught, and conference hosted has been rewarding. I’m ready to turn that energy toward sustainable growth. The next step is translating that same dedication into programs and offerings that not only serve my communities but also support my livelihood.

What I know is this: completion doesn’t mean stopping. It means making space for what’s next.

Exploring Instagram and Creating Online Classes

Starting this month, I am transitioning from writing a weekly blog to posting twice a month (roughly the 14th and 28th each month). I am embarking on two new paths. The first is exploring Instagram. I tried new technology four years ago when I started this blog. I know I can do it again. And I can always revert back to weekly blogging in the future once I make headway on these other paths.

The second is putting creative energies into developing online classes to enable us to affect change in more people.

It feels a bit like reaching a high alpine pass and realizing the view opens in multiple directions. There’s pride in the distance covered, and equal curiosity about where the next path leads. Like mountain trails, if you don’t like a path you are exploring, you can always choose again. The explorer in me is yearning for more discovery.

As I plan new online classes, delve into Instagram, and fine-tune the next round of Mountaineers seminars, I carry forward everything this season taught me. Resilience is possible at any age; leadership thrives through service; and the body, when cared for with patience, knowledge, and curiosity, can keep surprising us with what it can do. Perhaps most importantly, be fluid, not static. Explore new realms of possibility.

It has even revealed a new topic: Age Is Just a Number. If I believed that life slows after 60, I never would have had the summer I just had. I plan to smash all my records next year, simply because I know I can. And it is fun going after big goals. That, dear readers, is empowerment.

Closing Reflection

This fall, I’m celebrating endurance — not just mine, but everyone’s who kept showing up. My hikers who built confidence one step at a time. All the writers who found their voice. Our students who discovered new ways to move without pain. Those who show up with vulnerability and courage all taught me to do the same: try something new, risky, scary. You might surprise yourself. So, I’m taking the plunge. You are my witnesses.

If this was my season of completion, it was also one of connection — between mind and body, between people and purpose, between doing and being.

And as the days shorten and the air turns crisp, I invite you to pause, too. Look back at what you’ve accomplished this year. Notice what held you steady. Then ask yourself: What season of completion are you in — and how will you honor the strength that’s carried you this far?

What’s next? Join me on my new paths: https://www.instagram.com/bodyresultscom/ and https://www.instagram.com/courtschurman/ There’s no stopping me now!