Everest Base Camp has a funny way of making people want to bring everything they own. Extra layers. Backup gear for the backup gear. Just in case items that never leave the bottom of a pack. I get it. This is a big trip. But the more I dig into the logistics, the more obvious it becomes that overpacking is one of the easiest ways to make this harder than it needs to be.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned over years of hiking and training, it’s that your feet end up running the show. You can be in great shape, dialed in mentally, and still have a miserable day if your footwear isn’t right. That’s why breaking in boots before a big trek isn’t optional for me. It’s part of the process.

As my training ramps up for Everest Base Camp, nutrition has quietly become just as important as time on the treadmill or under a pack. I’m not following anything extreme or trendy. I’m eating with intention, supporting the work I’m doing, and making sure my body actually has what it needs to recover and adapt.

One of the questions I get asked the most is what I’m actually bringing with me to Everest Base Camp. The short answer is less than you think, but more intentionally than you’d expect.

Training for Everest Base Camp while living at sea level has been one of the most humbling parts of this entire process. I live in Florida. It’s flat, humid, and about as far from the Himalayas as you can get. No altitude. No long sustained climbs. No thin air forcing your lungs to adapt. Just heat, sweat, and a lot of creative problem solving…

Once I committed to Everest Base Camp as more than just an idea, the next phase was all about structure. Big trips do not come together on motivation alone. They come together through a series of thoughtful decisions that stack confidence one piece at a time. For me, that started with choosing the right partners and understanding the logistics of getting myself from Florida to the Himalayas in one piece…

Everest Base Camp did not begin as a lifelong dream or a dramatic bucket list goal. It started much quieter than that. More like a question I could not shake. What would it look like to commit to something meaningful, something that required intention, patience, and trust in the process rather than instant payoff?