I have always been completely amazed by the simple beauty of nature. I suppose I love it so deeply for how it really isn’t simple at all. There is nothing I love more than the smell of pine, the heat from a campfire, the breeze on a chilly spring morning, and the first snow of a winter. I have always been so intrigued by nature.
On the morning of July 9, 2015, I climbed my second mountain in the Rocky Mountains of Colorado. I woke up at 4 a.m. to the sound of my alarm, which had made its way into my dream. Finally realizing that it was my alarm, I shut it off. I rubbed my eyes and got ready despite my urge to run back to bed and hide for 20 years. That’d be ridiculous.
It was frigid on this particular morning. I could feel the cool air streaming through my Patagonia sweatshirt onto my arms. I wasn’t sure if I was ready for this hike. Not because it was too cold or too early, but because I wasn’t as excited about it as I had been for the mountain I climbed two years previously. Maybe because I knew what it took to climb a mountain. I knew the pain I’d feel the next morning when I woke up from a solid night of sleep due to exhaustion.
I wouldn’t back down, though. I couldn’t turn around. I was here, and I had to be ready to endure whatever this mountain decided to push me into. The click of my hiking poles on the concrete only reminded me that it’d soon be clicking against rock. I walked closer and closer to the trail head. Click. Click. Click. Click.
The first two miles were relatively easy. Just a trail that wound through bushes and streams. The typical landscape of rugged Colorado that one would imagine. Eventually, the trees were gone. I was above tree level. By the summit, I would be 4,000 feet above tree level. Oxygen was scarce.
My boots walked through tough landscape. Giant boulders under my feet lead to giant boulders in front of me. The wind would catch the air sometimes and blow cold air directly at me. My ears burned the way they do in the winter when you go outside without a hat.
It seemed like I had been walking for so long. I had climbed so far. But when I looked up, I still had a long way to go. I distinctly remember stopping at a giant rock and sitting down. I looked out over the view and it was amazing. My thought process went something like, “Would the view be much better from the top?”
At that point I knew that there was absolutely nothing inside of me that wanted to keep going. Looking up, I could see my dad and sister still climbing. They seemed to get farther and farther away from me. I knew my family would all be at the top of the mountain, and I would disappoint them if I couldn’t make it to the summit.
The thing was that it wasn’t that I couldn’t make it. It’s that I didn’t want to. The summit was completely in the clouds. It would be cold and who knows if I would even have a view once I got up there. But at that moment, I got up. I put one hiking pole in front of the other and I kept climbing.
When things get tough, that’s when you must keep going. Not only in the sense of climbing a mountain but just in life in general. Sometimes we, as humans, just don't want to keep going. We say, “There is absolutely nothing inside me that wants to keep going.” That exact moment is when we have to push on. The view from the top of that mountain of life will be worth it. Even if you’re only up there for five minutes before heading back down, it’ll be worth it.
I was the last one in my family to make it to the top. They celebrated when I made it, simply because I made it. When you overcome a goal in life, people celebrate for you because they know what you went through to get there. People will always cheer you on when you make it to your summit.
When that mountain of life seems way too tall, way too rugged, and way too difficult for us, that is when we need to get up, press on, and fight the good fight. I promise that if you do that, you will be amazed by the things you have overcome and amazed by the view at the top. In reality, the view at the top will always be much better than any view along the way. Don’t get me wrong — the views along the way will be wonderful and beautiful. When you are at the top, you will see that all of your worries are insignificant compared to the world.
At the top, you will be on top of the world. Don’t give up. Life will be hard, no doubt. But it will be worth every second of it’s rugged path to get to the top and accomplish something great. The next day, when you are sore from the 14,278 feet of life, you’ll smile knowing you didn’t quit. You persevered. You made it.
I suppose that’s why I love nature so much. It tests me and teaches me. It teaches me things that no human could teach me. I needed to experience these things to come out better. I needed to finish those mountains. Nature’s simplicity is more complex than you could ever imagine. It is deeply rooted in meaning. And for that I am grateful.
