Did I Just Waste An Entire Month Of My Life?
It's February 3rd, 2026, and I'm sitting here staring at my radio equipment, asking myself a question that probably sounds familiar to many amateur radio operators: "Was that all worth it?"
The WWA Journey
January was supposed to be my month. I dove headfirst into the World Wide Award (WWA) with the enthusiasm of a kid on Christmas morning. For those unfamiliar, the WWA is an intensive amateur radio event that tests your skills, patience, and dedication to working DX (long-distance contacts). I committed fully—almost obsessively—to the challenge.
And you know what? For most of the month, it was incredible.
The Good Stuff
I worked some truly amazing DX that I'd only dreamed about before. Japan came through beautifully on both 40 and 20 meters. I made contacts in Brunei and Thailand—places that seemed impossibly exotic through my radio waves. My log filled with stations from across Africa, throughout Europe, and down into South America. Each contact felt like a small victory, a connection across thousands of miles facilitated by nothing more than radio waves and skill.
More importantly, WWA became a masterclass in what I don't know yet. Every pileup taught me something. Every failed contact revealed gaps in my operating technique. I realized just how much preparation and practice I'd need before joining a real DXpedition—those ambitious trips where operators travel to rare locations to give the world a chance to make contact.
The learning curve was steep, but exhilarating.
The Breaking Point
Then came the frustration.
With just three days left in the event, I tapped out. Threw in the towel. Called it quits.
Why? Because I'd hit my limit with poor operating practices. The operators who deliberately jammed signals. The ones who talked over everyone else without a second thought. The complete and utter disregard for basic ham radio etiquette that's supposed to define our hobby.
Pile-ups became pile-ons. What should have been a gentleman's sport turned into a free-for-all where the loudest (or rudest) seemed to win. The joy evaporated, replaced by stress and frustration. My radio shack, once my sanctuary, started feeling like a battlefield.
The Epiphany
But stepping away gave me something unexpected: perspective.
As the stress melted away, I found myself thinking about why I got into amateur radio in the first place. It wasn't for contests. It wasn't for awards. It wasn't to prove anything to anyone.
I got into ham radio for the pure, simple enjoyment of it.
The thrill of making a contact. The technical challenge of stringing up an antenna. The satisfaction of understanding propagation. The community of like-minded people who share this peculiar passion. The magic of hearing a voice from the other side of the world emerges from static.
Somewhere along the way—as I tend to do—I jumped in with both feet and let the competitive aspect overshadow the fundamental joy. I ignored my better judgment and allowed external pressures to dictate my experience.
So, Did I Waste a Month?
No. Not at all.
I learned valuable technical skills. I made dozens of wonderful contacts. I identified exactly what I need to improve. I discovered my limits—not in terms of operating skills, but in terms of what kind of amateur radio operator I want to be.
Most importantly, I remembered why I'm here.
Moving Forward in 2026
This year, I'm committing myself: I'm going to get back to enjoying amateur radio on my own terms.
That means:
- Operating when I want to, not because a calendar says I should
- Chasing DX that excites me, not just for points
- Helping new operators instead of viewing them as competition
- Spending time experimenting with antennas and equipment
- Having ragchew QSOs (long, casual conversations) with interesting people
- Remembering that every operator on the other end is a person, not just a callsign
Will I participate in contests? Probably. Will I work DX? Absolutely. Will I still pursue awards? Maybe. But none of it will be at the expense of the joy that brought me to amateur radio in the first place.
The Lesson
If you're reading this and wondering if you've also gotten lost in the competitive aspects of our hobby, ask yourself: When was the last time you genuinely enjoyed being at the radio?
If you can't remember, maybe it's time to step back, take a breath, and rediscover what made you fall in love with amateur radio in the first place.
The bands will still be there. The DX will still be there. The awards and contests will continue.
But your enjoyment? That's something only you can protect and nurture.
So no, I didn't waste a month. I invested it in remembering what truly matters. And that might be the most valuable QSO I've made all year.
