3,440 calories.
That’s what my watch and Oura ring told me we burned three days ago while tracking musk ox for almost 15km through Dovrefjell National Park. Not watching a YouTube video about tracking musk ox. Not double-tapping someone else’s musk ox adventure on Instagram.
Actually doing it.
Actually feeling the burning in my legs as we pushed through knee-deep snow, the sting of Arctic wind trying to convince us to turn back, the moment Johan and I spotted these ancient looking animals through binoculars and having to double back about 4 km to get closer to them and suddenly everything else – the cold, the exhaustion, the doubt – just disappeared.
You know those dreams that sit on your to-do list for so long they start to collect dust?
The ones you keep telling yourself “someday” about while you scroll through other people’s “somedays” on social media? For me, this was one of those. But here’s the thing about dreams – they don’t give a damn about your likes and shares. They care about calories burned, steps taken, fears faced.
The whole northern Norway experience was… well, you know how people always say “words can’t describe it” and you kind of want to punch them? Yeah, I’m about to be that guy.
Because how do you explain to someone what it feels like when the aurora starts dancing overhead and suddenly all your “important” problems feel about as significant as a Facebook poke? The Arctic doesn’t care about your Instagram aesthetic or your carefully curated online presence.
It strips everything back to what matters. No filters. No bullshit.
Those 3,440 calories we burned tracking musk ox? They’re a wake-up call. A reminder of what’s coming: that Greenland crossing in 2026, and more immediately, 12 days on the ice in Svalbard in March.
Sure, all my recent training paid off, but let’s get real – one day of tracking through snow is like watching the trailer; 12 days on ice is the full-length feature film, extended cut, with all the deleted scenes thrown in. And no bathroom breaks. Not even to mention the 25 days, 540km expedition I will be doing in 2026!
But here’s what really keeps me up at night – it’s not the physical preparation. It’s those conversations you need to have with yourself. The ones that start during a training session and don’t end until you’ve faced some truth you’ve been avoiding. The kind that begin with “am I really ready?” and end with “am I really ready to change everything?”
Because that’s what preparation for something like this does – it forces honesty. When you’re out there in the white silence, or at home dragging tyres round the neighbourhood at 4 am in the morning, pushing through another training session, your mind starts having conversations your day-to-day life can’t handle. About what needs to change. About those dreams you’ve been putting off. About the person you need to become, not just for the expedition, but for everything after.
Most people approach their goals like they’re ordering from a menu – picking and choosing the comfortable parts, skipping what looks too hard. But real change, like the Arctic, serves you what it wants, when it wants, and your only choice is whether you’re prepared to digest it or not.
Quick reality check: I literally just walked through my front door this morning, and in a week, I’m heading back up north – Norway, Finland, and Lapland – for my final private guided trip of the year. But while that incredible adventure’s brewing, my mind’s already racing ahead.
When I get back in December, I’ve got nine weeks of training ahead before my next expedition. Not your typical “I’ll hit the gym three times this week, maybe” kind of training. We’re talking about the kind of preparation where every session is a conversation with yourself about who you are and who you need to become.
You know what’s fascinating about preparation like this? It reveals everything – not just about your physical readiness, but about every aspect of your life that needs attention. Those 4 AM training sessions? They’re really conversations about what you’re willing to sacrifice for what you say you want. Those recovery days? They’re lessons in patience and self-trust.
Speaking of trust – I see this same pattern in my Mindset and Performance Coaching clients. The ones who make the biggest breakthroughs aren’t necessarily the strongest or the most skilled – they’re the ones willing to have those uncomfortable conversations with themselves. The ones who understand that real change starts way before the visible results show up.
Got exactly one week in the office left this year. One week to cram in all the admin, planning, and “urgent” emails that somehow seem a lot less urgent after you’ve stared down a musk ox in the Arctic wilderness. (Thank for capturing the moment Johan!)
Every time I think about walking out of that office for the last time this year, my mind fast-forwards to what’s coming. To who I need to become. To the changes I’ve been thinking about and that it’s time to start taking serious.
There’s this voice in my head I need to have a serious chat with about the future and how things play out on various fronts. The kind of conversation you can’t have over coffee and small talk. The kind that changes everything that comes after it.
Because here’s the truth – whether you’re preparing for 12 days on ice or preparing to completely change your life’s direction, the process is surprisingly similar. It starts with being honest about where you are, gets real about where you want to go, and demands that you become someone different in between.
If any of this resonates – if you’ve got that feeling in your gut that something needs to change but you’re not sure how to navigate it – let’s talk. Sometimes the hardest steps are the first ones, and having a guide who’s familiar with both the physical and mental terrain ahead can make all the difference.
For now, I hope you’re all finding your own way through this challenging time of year – when the festive lights start feeling more like interrogation lamps asking what you’ve achieved. If you need to bounce ideas around, vent, or just want someone to talk to – I’m here.
Sometimes a conversation is all we need to get our bearings back.
