The Waiting Is the Work.

There is a part of mountaineering that rarely makes it to photographs. It is not the summit, the dramatic ridge line, the flag, or the view above the clouds. It is the long, unglamorous time between climbs.

No expedition dates. No summit push. No stories to tell. No dramatic weather window to watch. Just training, reading, saving, planning, getting fitter, learning new techniques, understanding gear, speaking to people who have been there before, rebuilding strength, and recovering from the last climb.

This period can feel boring. And yet, it may be the most important part of the climb.

Mountains are not climbed only on summit day. They are climbed in the months and years before, when nobody is watching.

The Seven Summits journey is not a neat sequence of back-to-back expeditions. Life does not work that way. Work, family, finances, health, timing, logistics, and readiness all matter. Sometimes there are long gaps between one mountain and the next.

And in those gaps, the question becomes: what do you do with the waiting? Do you treat it as empty time, or do you treat it as preparation?

The same question shows up in leadership.

When someone gets promoted, there is often a burst of energy. A new title, a new team, a new mandate, perhaps even a new version of oneself. For a while, everything feels like a climb. There is intensity, attention, learning, visibility. People are watching. The challenge is fresh. The stakes are clear.

Then, after some time, the high passes. The role becomes familiar. The calendar fills up. The novelty fades. The next promotion or role change may be years away. There is no immediate summit in sight.

This is where many leaders drift. Not because they lack ambition, but because the terrain has changed. The visible climb is over, and the next one has not yet begun.

But this middle period is not dead space. It is where the next leader is built.

Between promotions, we have the chance to develop the skills that our current role may not demand from us, but our next role certainly will. The ability to influence beyond authority. The discipline to think strategically, not just execute efficiently. The maturity to manage conflict without personalizing it. The patience to build successors. The courage to ask for feedback before the system forces it on us. The humility to notice that what worked at one altitude may not work at the next.

In mountaineering, you cannot wait until you are on the mountain to build endurance. In leadership, you cannot wait until you are in the next role to build range.

The quiet years matter. They are where we build capacity without applause.

They are also where we ask ourselves uncomfortable questions: What skill am I avoiding because I am already good at something else? What part of my leadership has plateaued? What feedback have I heard more than once but not yet acted on? What relationships do I need to strengthen before I need them? What kind of pressure will the next role bring, and am I preparing for it now?

The time between climbs can feel slow. But slow is not the same as wasted.

There is a kind of preparation that only happens away from the spotlight. You experiment. You study. You fail in smaller ways. You build habits. You deepen your base. You become less dependent on adrenaline and more anchored in discipline.

That is true on mountains. It is true in careers. And it is true in life.

Not every season will feel like a summit push. Some seasons are for building lungs. Some are for learning rope work. Some are for repairing confidence. Some are for strengthening the team around you. Some are simply for becoming the person who will be ready when the next mountain appears.

The mistake is to confuse lack of visible movement with lack of progress.

The next climb is often won in the boring middle. The next role is often earned long before it is announced.

So if you are in that space right now, between one achievement and the next, perhaps the question is not, “Why is nothing happening?”

Perhaps the better question is: “What is this season asking me to prepare for?”

The mountain may still be far away. But the climb has already begun.