I climbed to the top of Camelback Mountain. People do it every day, no big deal. Except that it was a HUGE deal for me. I’ve never done something like that (and probably won’t be back to Camelback in the near future), but I reached the summit. I stood at the top and spread my arms wide as gusts of wind bit at my face. Adrenaline coursed through my body and I breathed heavy from the climb (and a little bit of residual panic attack), and I thanked myself for believing in ME.
Above the noise from the city, the smog that hung in the air like low clouds, and away from my phone I found a peace that is hard to come by. The solitude (but camaraderie) at the top was something so unique that only fellow hikers probably know what I’m talking about. Yes, there were other people at the summit, but for a moment we all shared a bond. We smiled at one another, silently congratulating the other for making it to the top. We were giddy, taking pictures to remember. Remember what, though? For me, it was to prove to myself that I did it. I set my mind to a goal and my body followed through.
When I feel like stopping a project because it is too difficult, or I am metaphorically stuck, I can look at this picture and remember there were moments where I was stuck on the side of a mountain, hyperventilating “I can’t” until I made up my mind that I was going to reach the top. And I did.
Currently reading: Tweak: Growing up on Methamphetamines by Nic Sheff