My dad, sister, and I went camping in the White Mountains a few months ago. I had been looking forward to it for a while because I would be with my family, the reception would be poor so they would be forced to socialize with me, and fall in New Hampshire makes you think twice about city-living.

Saturday morning, we woke up relatively early and had breakfast around the campfire. We decided to hike a semi-easy trail and just explore the area we were in for the day. We settled on South Moat Mountain and then set off to enjoy a leisurely stroll.

Thirty minutes into the hike we realized it wasn’t exactly a stroll. It’s not a crazy difficult hike either, but it’s definitely a decent one that gets your heart rate up.

I had been eager to hike for a while at that point, so I was trying to rush everyone along and probably (definitely) wasn’t the most patient one in the group. No knock to my dad whatsoever, but he’s 54 and not in the most prime physical shape. Rushing along a man who’s more cut-out for a stroll was not my kindest move, I will admit that.

We had been trekking for probably two hours when we passed a group of relatively young hikers. We made small talk with them, and I asked how much longer it would be until we reached the summit. One of the guys in the group said, “about 40 more minutes”. In response I said, “oh, not bad at all”. They passed, and I could tell my dad was a little peeved.

At that point it was clear I was on a narrow-minded mission to get to the top and see the views. I wasn’t all that interested in stopping, lurking around, taking lengthy breaks, or chit-chatting. I meant business, while my sister and dad were taking it a lot lighter.

Once the group of hikers were out of ear-shot, my dad said to me, “Pinch, why does it matter how much longer it is? You shouldn’t automatically assume or even care how long it takes anyone else to get to the summit. People go at their own pace and have their own agendas. That guy has no idea if it’ll take us 40 more minutes. Besides, we’re in no rush.”

I knew he was right. I was in agreement, but I also wasn’t exactly hearing him.

Nonetheless, we pushed forward. I tried to take his advice, but even after his whole spiel, I was still a solid minute or so ahead of my sister and dad, not really caring to stop and “smell the roses”.

Inevitably, my dad continued to lecture me. “The point isn’t to rush to the top in record time. Let’s just relax, and enjoy the route along the way. You really need to learn patience.”

Again, he was making perfect sense. I was rushing, and I definitely could have worked on being more patient.

After another hour or so, we still hadn’t reached the top. So if you’re following, the fact that the group of hikers told us it would take another 40 mins was irrelevant given we had been hiking for 60.

I was noticeably on edge as I was trying to hurry us along. We had passed a good amount of people at that point who were descending, and the farther we went, the more impatient I grew.

As we continued hiking, we saw a couple coming down the mountain. The woman was out of breath a bit and uttered, “beautiful 360 views at the top, and you’re almost there!” Smiling from ear to ear, I was excited to hear that positive news.

It was then that the man she was with looked at us and said, “not really, it’ll probably be 40 more minutes.”

I turned to my dad as he chuckled, looked back at me and said, “so we’ve heard.”

Moral of the story: you are on your own path. Your timeline won’t line up to everyone else’s, and quite frankly, it shouldn’t. Stick to your own agenda, and let time pass as it will. You’ll get there when you’re suppose to.