“I am no mountaineer. But we are climbing this mountain for real.
I’m angry at myself for how hard this is, how exhausted I am, how slow I’m moving, humbled by own former arrogance. Behind me, Paul calls out in encouragement: “You’re doing fabulous!”
‘Don’t patronize me’” I snap back, aware my anger is unfair but unable to control it. And there’s no way to go but go on….
We lay down in the bunks for a few hours’ rest but I can’t sleep. I can’t suck enough air into my lungs, the room is swaying like a ship at sea. I struggle outside, make my way across the blowing snow to the toilets. I am more miserable than I can ever remember and I paid for this privilege. I’d be laughing if I wasn’t so sick.”