Glitch in the Prep 🎒❌😅⚠️

A Glitch in the Prep 🎒❌😅⚠️

One thing nobody tells you about preparing for a big goal is that consistency does not make you immune to setbacks. In fact, if you're pushing yourself regularly, chances are you'll eventually hit a speed bump. A little pause. A glitch in the system.

And sometimes that pause is exactly what you need.

It has a funny way of showing you what's not working. It highlights the things you've overlooked and gently (or not so gently) reminds you that progress is not just about doing more. Sometimes it's about doing things differently.

My glitch arrived after what I can only describe as an overly enthusiastic Friday gym session.

I am not particularly fond of chest presses, but on that particular day I think I got a little too ambitious. Looking back, I should have told my trainer that something didn't feel quite right. I didn't. That was my mistake.

The next day, I headed off on a very long hike. It was an incredible day out, but with a neck and back that were already complaining, I started to realise something important: my backpack and I were not getting along.

Now, on paper, this backpack was perfect.

I had chosen the Pace 30L backpack from Mountain Warehouse. It had excellent reviews, a hydration pack compartment, adjustable hip straps, an airflow back system and all the features that seem to appear on every Everest Base Camp packing list.

The problem wasn't the backpack.

The problem was that the backpack was not built for me.

One lesson I'm learning during this preparation is that the best-rated gear in the world still needs to fit the person using it. With a solid 4.6-star rating, the backpack was clearly working wonderfully for many people. Unfortunately, my back had different opinions.

The suspended mesh airflow system, while fantastic for ventilation, left the metal frame sitting in all the wrong places for my body. The hip belt, another excellent feature, sat lower than it should because I'm fairly petite. By the end of the hike, my neck and back were making a formal complaint.

So the search begins again.

This time I'm looking for something smaller, more size-appropriate and, most importantly, comfortable. No suspended airflow system. No fancy features that look good on paper but don't work for my frame.

If anyone has recommendations for a comfortable hiking backpack for a petite woman training for Everest Base Camp, I am all ears.

Following the Great Backpack Incident of 2026, I spent the rest of the day feeling decidedly average. Naturally, I convinced myself that the sensible thing to do would be to power through.

Because if there's one thing ambitious people love, it's ignoring every signal their body sends them.

So on Tuesday morning, right before work, I turned up for my 8 a.m. gym session.

To my trainer's credit, he kept everything very light, and it did help. But I think the combination of the gym session, the hike, the backpack, and my stubbornness finally caught up with me.

The result?

Tuesday was spent on sick leave and mostly in bed.

Wednesday featured an equally glamorous combination of rest, recovery and a hot water bottle permanently attached to my neck and back.

Not exactly the training montage I had envisioned.

Still, every setback carries a lesson.

This one reminded me that preparation is not just about building strength. It's also about listening. Listening to your body. Listening to the warning signs. Listening when something isn't working, whether it's your training plan, your pace, or your backpack.

My dear friend Kristyn is an expert at this.

She is always reminding me to listen to the warnings my own system gives me. To pay attention to the signs, work out what they're trying to tell me and, most importantly, not ignore them.

Kristyn will be the first person to tell me that not every problem can be solved by pushing through it. Sometimes the wiser option is to pause, recover and reassess.

She also insists that I am far too chatty. To be fair, she may have a point.

Sometimes she laughs at the things I do. Sometimes we have wonderful conversations about life. And sometimes she looks at me, shakes her head and says, "Maria, don't do this." Which is usually my cue to stop and re-evaluate whatever magnificent nonsense I've just proposed.

Looking back, as I sat there with a hot water bottle attached to my neck and back, I could almost hear her voice reminding me to pay attention to the warning signs. My body had been sending messages for days. The problem wasn't that it wasn't communicating. The problem was that I wasn't listening.

We often celebrate resilience as pushing harder, but perhaps resilience is also knowing when to stop. To rest. To recover. To regroup.

Be a butterfly. Learn to weather the storms by resting when you need to. But also be a bee and sting when necessary. Protect your energy, your health and your goals. Know when to soften and know when to stand your ground.

Sometimes progress isn't pushing harder.

Sometimes progress is resting long enough to come back wiser.