Summit fever has a financial cousin – and the cure is the same in both places. Decide what would make you turn around before you’re standing there.
There’s a phrase climbers use for the thing that gets people killed, and it isn’t weather or altitude or bad rope work. It’s summit fever – the pull that takes hold when the top is close and every reason to keep going suddenly sounds more convincing than it did at breakfast.
Stefan Gruber described it well in a recent On Adventure conversation. He’s turned back from the Grand Teton twice. What stayed with us wasn’t the turning around; it was how he thought about the times things worked out anyway. There’s a certain store of luck, he said, and it runs out eventually. Surviving a bad decision doesn’t make it a good one.
We’ve thought about that line a lot, because we watch a version of it play out at desks and kitchen tables all the time.
The Financial Version
Summit fever in a financial life doesn’t look dramatic. It looks like reasonableness, which is exactly what makes it hard to catch.
It’s the concentrated stock position that has done so well that selling any of it now feels like quitting early. It’s the business someone meant to step back from three years ago, still going, because this year is finally the year it all pays off. It’s the rental property that stopped making sense a while ago but has become part of how a person describes themselves. It’s the goal set at forty-five that nobody has re-examined at sixty, still quietly driving decisions.
In every case the pattern is identical. The commitment was sound when it was made. Conditions changed. And the reasons to keep going are being generated by the part of us that has already decided.
That’s the tell. When we notice ourselves reaching past the original reasons for new ones, something has usually shifted.
Why It’s Hard in the Moment
Standing a few hundred feet below a summit is the single worst place to evaluate whether you should be there.
You’re tired. You’ve spent real money and real time. Everyone around you has too. The thing you came for is right there, and the effort already sunk feels like an argument for continuing rather than what it actually is – gone either way, and irrelevant to the decision in front of you.
Financial decisions inherit all of it. Add in the fact that turning around usually means admitting the plan changed, which people hear as admitting the plan was wrong. It wasn’t. Conditions changed. Those aren’t the same thing, and conflating them is what keeps people on routes they’d never choose fresh.
Then there’s the quiet distortion Stefan named: if the last three times you pushed through it worked out, the lesson you absorb is pushing through works. The sample is too small and the stakes are too asymmetric for that to be a lesson at all.
Set the Criteria Before You’re Tired
Here’s the part climbers actually do, and the part most of us skip.
Serious parties set a turnaround time before they leave camp. Not a feeling – a time. If you aren’t at the summit by then, you go down, whatever the weather is doing and however good your legs feel. The whole point is that the decision gets made by the version of you that’s rested, unhurried, and not staring at the top.
The financial equivalent is the same move. Decide in advance what would change your mind, write it down, and let the calm version of yourself bind the tired one.
That might sound like:
- “If this position passes a set share of our investable assets, we trim on a schedule – regardless of how it’s performing or what we think happens next.”
- The business. “If I’m still working past a certain date, or if these specific conditions are met, we run a real conversation about transition – not a mental note, a meeting on the calendar.”
- A property or venture. “If it hasn’t cleared this bar by this date, we sell. Not because it failed, but because that’s what we said.”
- The plan itself. “We revisit the assumptions every year on a set date, including the ones we’re most attached to.”
The specifics belong to the family. The structure is what matters: a condition, a date, and an action, decided while nothing is on the line.
Turning Around Isn’t Failure
This is the piece worth saying plainly, because a lot of capable people carry the opposite belief.
Changing course is not the same as being wrong. Stefan will go back to the Grand Teton. The two attempts he walked away from didn’t cost him the mountain – they’re the reason he’s still available to climb it. Alex Potts, in another recent conversation, made the related point from the other direction: being fit enough to push harder isn’t the same as knowing whether you should. Experience is largely the accumulated ability to tell those apart.
The families we see handle change well aren’t the ones who never adjust. They’re the ones who built permission to adjust into the plan from the beginning, so that when the moment comes, it reads as judgment rather than defeat.
The summit will still be there. The point was never to reach it on this particular day. The point was to keep being someone who gets to go back.
If you’re carrying a decision like this right now – a position, a business, a goal you’ve outgrown but haven’t said so out loud – we’d be glad to sit down and think it through with you.
Ridgeline Wealth Advisors
This material is for general educational purposes and does not constitute investment, tax, or legal advice. It is not a recommendation of any particular strategy or security and does not account for any individual’s circumstances.














