Chasing Freedom Through Exploration

For as long as I can remember, I’ve always been drawn to freedom—the freedom to explore, to roam, to chase whatever sparked my curiosity. Whether it was carving down mountains in the winter, spending summers by the lake, or booking the next flight to a new destination, I was always drawn to the unknown.

That love for exploration first took shape on the ski slopes. At two years old, I clipped into my first pair of skis, and it wasn’t long before my entire life revolved around it. At just 12 years old, I made the life-changing decision to leave my hometown, friends, and family to pursue my ski racing dreams. I trained year-round, traveled across North America, Europe, and South America, and spent every waking moment working toward one goal: becoming the best athlete I could be.

Ski racing took me to incredible places—waking up to snow-capped peaks, training beneath endless alpine skies, navigating winding roads through mountain passes—but every trip was structured, every day accounted for. My life was planned down to the hour, with little room for detours.

While it came with its lows—the pressure, the setbacks, the constant pursuit of perfection—I still loved it. The rush of competition, the thrill of shaving fractions of a second off my time, the satisfaction of pushing my limits—it was exhilarating. Skiing wasn’t just a sport; it was my passion, my purpose, my entire world. Every turn, every race, every mountain I skied shaped who I was.

Competing in college only deepened that love. It gave me some of the most fun years I’d had since I first started racing—years filled with strong friendships, unforgettable moments on the mountain, and the pure joy of the sport. But what I had known was coming for the past several years—something that once felt so distant—snuck up on me. Graduating from college also meant retiring from ski racing.

What had been my identity, my greatest love, my everything—what I had been working toward for as long as I could remember—was suddenly gone. It left a void I didn’t know how to fill. For the first time in my life, I wasn’t working toward the next race, the next competition, the next goal. I wasn’t sure who I was without it.

Getting Lost to Find Myself

In summer 2023, before starting a job in financial services, I made a last-minute decision that would change everything—saying yes to a National Parks road trip. I didn’t have much of a plan, just a car, navigation, the desire to go somewhere—and good company. But while the decision was spontaneous, my approach was anything but. Within hours, I had the entire trip mapped out.

Somewhere along the way—standing beneath jagged peaks, hiking through dense forests, watching the sun set over deep canyons—I felt something I hadn’t felt in years. That deep-rooted excitement. That spark of possibility. I picked up a camera, started capturing the landscapes around me, and something clicked. For the first time, I wasn’t traveling on someone else’s schedule. I wasn’t constrained by competition, training, or expectations. I was exploring purely for the sake of it.

That trip didn’t just remind me why I loved to explore—it redefined what adventure meant to me.

Looking back, my love for travel had been growing long before this trip. While ski racing introduced me to traveling for competition, it was my semester abroad that showed me the joy of traveling for the experience itself. During my time in Spain, I spent six months hopping between cities, learning how to navigate new cultures, and embracing the thrill of figuring things out as I went. It was the first time I was traveling not because I had to, but because I wanted to.

After experiencing both structured, goal-oriented travel through ski racing and the cultural exploration of studying abroad, I thought I had seen a lot of the world. But this road trip was different. It wasn’t about chasing results; it was about embracing the unknown. What started as a way to document my travels turned into my biggest passion.