Uphill work at high altitude is a dance with inner demons.
The crunch of snow underfoot becomes a metronome, setting the pace for the climb.
Each step, a victory over gravity. The embodiment of willpower.
The constant struggle to maintain pace. The body is torn. Lactic acid gushing through the muscles. Pain seeps in.
And you don't wanna break. Coz when you do. The moment you cease any movement you succumb to the spinning of your head. Nausea sweeps over you.
The only escape. Start moving again.
The mountain just falls in the backdrop.
Indifferent beauty.
Up here, it’s just you and your thoughts, and sometimes those thoughts are like pesky gremlins, whispering about turning back or doubting your path.
The body screams to give. Go back. Relax. Eat and sleep.
The struggle continues and then you look back at some ground covered. The vert you just gained. And that gives one more motivation to move ahead.
There's a moment in every climb where the world falls away.
Where you stop looking ahead at the goal and only look down. Why because it's a torment to see how much of the climb is still left and you don't wanna have that play in your mind.
It takes effort to think. Thoughts are calorie gushers.
The funny thing? At the turnaround point, the smaller those demons seem. The world changes. All the troubles fade.
The mind relaxes. Happy hormones prepare to start oozing.
Why do we love skiing or boarding. The downhill is the reward.
Because it feels really really good. Right at the top of the limits of what a human can feel.