Hey there,

Although my recent ADHD diagnosis would suggest otherwise, my vacation-planning skills are legendary.

For example: On day 2 of our Glacier National Park adventure, my carefully researched agenda told us to ride the shuttle to the St. Mary Falls stop and hike three miles, out-and-back, to see a couple of waterfalls.

That three mile thing? That was a pinky-promise I'd made to Prince Jack. I'd had to promise that, because the day before, a supposed-to-be-five-mile-hike turned into an eight-mile hike, and he was... not amused.

I had a problem, though: Fred thought my agenda wasn't so great. And as we stood to exit the bus as planned, he suggested we should start our hike at Sun Point instead—two shuttle stops farther away from our end point.

I turned to look at Jack, willfully ignored his stricken expression, and sat back down.

To be clear, I didn't actually know Fred. But every park employee seemed to. All of 5'4", easily in his late-70s, and sporting an impressive knee brace and a thick New York accent, the guy was full of stories and opinions.

Eastbound from Logan Pass, I'd called up my selective extroversion, leaned over the vinyl seat, and asked, "So, why does everyone here seem to know you?"

"Oh, I've been coming to Glacier every year since 1978," he said. "And I'm nice to people."

Fred doesn't hike much anymore (see "impressive knee brace"), but he spends his summers in the park, riding the shuttle west to east and back again, all day long, offering generous advice to people like me.

"Sun Point is a much better starting place," he insisted. "That's what I would do if I were you."

So we did.

Now, did that decision double our intended mileage that day? It sure did. Would we do it again in a heartbeat? We sure would. Fred knew what he was talking about.

Sun Point was indescribably gorgeous—a panoramic view I would've never known existed had I not swallowed my vacation-planning pride and listened to a guy who knew way, way better than I did.

Pep Talk #042: It's OK to double-check your agenda.
I'm generally not a prideful person, but I often have a tough time asking for and following advice. It's not that I think I know better. It's that I don't want to face the reality that I absolutely don't. (Look, it's a "not good enough" thing my excellent therapist and are doing loads of work on.)

Being skittish about advice shows up for me in way more places than national parks, as you might imagine. Like, I don't often seek peer feedback on my work, because I'm afraid I'll be "found out" as the shit writer I fear I am. I rarely ask other people for business advice because that just proves I don't know what the hell I'm doing. And I never, ever, ask if my butt looks fat in these jeans.

So, ... who are the Freds in your life? Where might they show up? And are you willing to listen to them?

I actually recommend you do go chasing waterfalls,
Kelley

‍