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With the lingering pain of my muscles working uphill & the cold rain dripping down my face, I still noticed this deep sense of happiness beneath it all. I kept thinking to myself, “I am living my fucking dream right now. I am experiencing it.”
The hardest thing is just doing it sometimes. Just following the inspiration. You know what inspired me to go hiking up the mountains again? I was at the bar I was working at a couple months ago, trying to sleep with this guy I was on a date with. I was all seductive & touchy, only having one thing in mind. He, on the other hand, was more interested in talking to me about his mountaineering experiences. He began describing the challenges he faced, the storms he went through, the tests of faith he experienced. He talked about the mountain air, the way the snow glowed, the way the summit views made him feel. I felt as though I was viewing his memories on a movie screen. I began to cry just feeling his passion & visualizing it… & that was the moment I realized I was really fucking sad. I booked a ticket to Colorado the following day.