The Truth About Climbing with ADHD

For years, I looked at my life like a collection of unfinished chapters. I’d jump from one thing to the next, hyperfixating until I hit a wall of boredom, then moving on to the next shiny object. "A jack of all trades, master of none."

But then I started climbing mountains.

I realized that my brain wasn't broken; it was just waiting for a challenge big enough to require everything I’d ever learned. If you’ve ever felt like your ADHD makes you too "much" or too "unfocused" for big goals, here is why mountaineering actually works with the ADHD brain, and how I finally connected the dots.

1. The “Hobby-Hopping” Was Actually Specialized Training

I used to feel guilty about my "random" resume. I’ve been a copywriter, a photographer, social media data analyst and a travel agent. I’ve spent months obsessed with crafts, painting, and a Cricut. I’ve always loved Zumba and dance. In any other career, that looks like a lack of focus. In mountaineering, it’s a competitive advantage.

The Travel Agent & Data Analyst: My brain is now wired to handle the nightmare of expedition logistics. I can analyze weather charts, calculate fuel-to-weight ratios, and map out complex routes with the precision of a pro.
The Creative & Photographer: Being a copywriter and photographer means I don’t just climb—I document. I can see the "line" on a mountain the way I see a composition in a viewfinder. I can identify and capture the tiny details that make the whole story come together.
The Dancer & Hiker: All those "random" hours of cardio and coordination built the stamina I need to navigate technical rock and ice.

The Coach’s Wife: If you know, you know. It means I’m the master of the "household pivot." I’ve spent years managing chaotic schedules and nervous energy, cheering from the sidelines and managing someone else’s "roster.” Now, I’m taking those management skills and using them on my own expeditions.

3. Planning as a Form of Dopamine

Most people find the preparation for a big trip exhausting. For my ADHD mind, the research phase is a playground. I spend days and days hyperfixating on gear specs, weight-savings, maps, routes, camping hacks, . Every mountain is its own, different puzzle, so the "novelty" never wears off. It offers a constant stream of new gear to master, which keeps my brain engaged long before I even get on a plane.

4. The Forced Focus of the Ascent

The quietest my brain has ever been. This is what happens when preparation meets the right medication.

When you’re on a technical ridge, your brain doesn't have the luxury of opening 50 tabs. The mountain forces a singular, high-stakes focus that I find impossible to achieve in an office. The "noise" finally went quiet and it was a zen that I literally have never experienced until I was on Kilimanjaro. Each trip is bigger or different enough to provide the "challenge-dopamine" my brain craves, but with proper planning, it’s never out of reach.

5. The Elephant in the Room: Medication

I want to be 100% transparent: I wouldn't be standing on these summits without my medication.

There is a lot of "tough it out" talk in the outdoor world, but for me, my ADHD and anxiety meds changed my life. My meds give me the mental "floor" I need to actually execute the complex plans I’ve researched. My anxiety medication helps me distinguish between rational fear (which keeps you alive) and the irrational spiraling that leads to dangerous mistakes.

Being medicated doesn't "dull" the adventure, but gives me the emotional regulation and clarity to actually stay safe and enjoy it.

You Aren't Scattered, You're Preparing

If you’re an "ADHD hobby-hopper" feeling lost, maybe you just haven't found your mountain yet. Your ability to hyperfixate, your weird collection of skills, and your need for high-stakes novelty aren't flaws—they are the exact traits required to do something epic.

Sometimes, the best way to quiet a busy mind is to give it a very tall, very beautiful problem to solve.

The Higher the Altitude, the Quieter the Mind