MOUNT KILIMANJARO, Tanzania — “Step by step, inch by inch” rang through my oxygen-deprived mind as I trudged the last 1,000 feet of the summit push toward an elevation of 19,478 feet.
The radiating sun slowly creeps across the frozen glacier field as my lips begin to go numb. I’m not thinking, I am just walking, walking … walking. A porter smiles at me and offers to take my pack, and I just shrug him off.
I am going to do this. I did not go all this way, ruin my heels with hellish blisters and eat porridge for nothing! My dad walks besides me, just talking, softly whispering words to me. Do I look at him? No. I have to keep my eyes on the target, and I absolutely cannot stop. Stopping would mean I quit. Stopping would mean the mountain beat me, and my competitive nature would not have it. Continue Reading…
