Right, so I wanted to talk about this thing I called my “Colorado foot all” adventure. Wasn’t an official name for anything, just what I ended up calling it in my head after the fact. I got this idea to really push myself on a hike out there, you know, see some serious backcountry.
So I picked out a route, looked challenging but doable on the map. Planned it out, packed my gear. Spent a good bit of time thinking about water, food, navigation. Felt pretty prepared, honestly. Got my sturdy boots, couple pairs of good socks. Thought I had the foot situation covered. The goal was basically to be on my feet all day, cover as much ground as possible, hence the name I gave it.
The Start and The Grind
Started off early morning. Air was crisp, views were amazing right from the get-go. First few hours felt great. Boots felt fine, energy was high. I was really moving, ticking off trail markers. Felt like I could walk forever. Pushed through the midday heat, kept a steady pace. Felt tough, you know? Like I was really doing it.
Then, maybe six, seven hours in, I started feeling it. Not just tired legs, but my feet. Little hotspots started popping up. I stopped, checked them out, threw on some moleskin where I felt rubbing. Put my boots back on and kept going. Told myself it was normal, part of the challenge. Gotta push through discomfort, right?
Well, pushing through turned into real pain over the next couple of hours. The sun started going down, and every step felt like walking on sharp rocks. My feet were just screaming. It wasn’t just blisters anymore; it felt like the bones themselves were bruised. I seriously underestimated what “foot all” day would actually mean on that terrain.
The Realization Hits
It actually reminded me of something totally different. Years ago, I was working on this project, a real beast. We were way behind schedule. Everyone knew it was a mess, deep down. Management kept saying push harder, we’ll make it. And I did. Ignored all the warning signs, the bugs we were papering over, the shortcuts we were taking. Worked crazy hours, just grinding, telling myself we just had to push through the discomfort, just like I was telling myself on that trail.
And you know what happened? The whole project collapsed spectacularly right before launch. All that effort, all that “pushing through,” it was for nothing. Worse than nothing, it made the failure bigger and more painful when it finally happened. We ignored the foundational problems.
Sitting there on that Colorado trail, barely able to stand, nursing my absolutely wrecked feet, it hit me. Same pattern. Ignoring the small warnings, thinking sheer willpower overcomes fundamental issues. Whether it’s bad code or bad foot preparation for a massive hike, sometimes pushing through isn’t heroic, it’s just dumb. You gotta listen to the feedback, whether it’s your aching feet or your gut telling you the project is doomed.
What Happened Next
- I had to cut the hike way short.
- Spent the evening just soaking my feet, they were swollen and bruised badly.
- Took a couple of days of doing basically nothing for them to feel halfway normal again.
- Learned a lesson about respecting limits and listening to early warnings, again.
So yeah, that was my “Colorado foot all” experience. It wasn’t just about hiking. It was a reminder that sometimes, stopping, reassessing, and fixing the small problems is way smarter than just blindly pushing forward until you break something. Be it your project, or your own two feet.
