… or maybe two where I doubted myself, my skills, my gear, and my strength to continue on.
Once, I woke to a chilly morning and found everybody else in my little hiking group had already packed up and left. Everything felt so hard and beyond my abilities. I was miserable; if I had had cell phone service, I would have made a call to G asking her to please drop everything and come get me. The next afternoon, I stopped in the middle of the trail, exhausted, and just stood there on the side of the mountain. I could not find any beauty around me. None. I was tired and cold and felt so alone. The chill wind cut through my clothes and through the balaklava pulled up over my mouth and nose … I felt utterly sorry for myself … and I cried.
Someone told me there’s no crying in the mountains. Bullshit.
There really are no other options. Nobody’s going to come and scoop you up off the side of the mountain. There’s no magic wand or magic carpet and certainly no elevator around. The only thing I could do was get done crying … and keep walking.
That’s just how life is sometimes; you just have to keep on keeping on.