Breathe deeply; you’re at 14,000+ feet. Congrats! You’ve not only accomplished a Colorado College right of passage, but also finished an all-too-nicely-termed 14er. Now pop that summit beer, and if you forgot, just take a selfie and head back down the mountain.
With the beautiful weather this past Block Break, I’m sure many of you found yourselves in a similar situation I was in a few weeks ago, stuck climbing what seemed to be an endless mountain. I mean stuck in the most loving, adventurous of ways. See, you and I both hiked said mountain willingly, albeit a little too willingly. For me, that’s thinking I am as remarkable a hiker as Andrew Hamilton (Google him, now).
A few weeks ago my dear friend and I decided to hike Quandary Peak. On the phone earlier that week I had told my mother, “Oh yeah, we’ll be fine. It’s only going to take like three hours round trip.” Full disclosure, I had not looked at how long the hike was, nor the conditions of said “trail.” Oy vey, did I miscalculate. And no, I will not tell you how long it took us… We lived to tell the tale.
After a leisurely drive to Breck, with an obligatory breakfast stop at the Donut Mill (a later semi-regret), we arrived at the trailhead. I scoffed at the sign that read, “All 14ers are difficult. Be prepared.” I thought, “This will be a piece of cake. I climbed Pikes in the middle of the night.” As we hiked we saw more and more hikers coming down and my mind started to race. Did we have enough time to do this? Why are there so many people? Oh my god, the mountain goats will be the death of me. If that person can do it, I definitely can do it. Am I going too slowly? Wow this is so pretty. Just enjoy the view Al, there’s not much you can do now.
A half-mile from the summit, my friend and I broke off. Being a far better hiker than I am, she went ahead, and I plugged in my headphones to begin the slow ascent. Ultimately, we arrived at the top, forgot our summit beers, but took many photos. For me, the hike down is always more enjoyable. You get to finally have conversations instead of communicating through gasps of air. Not to mention the stupid grin you have on your face because your endorphins are just too high.
I guess, no matter what hike or climb or challenge you face, you go through these stages: high expectations, followed by doubt, followed by a sense of accomplishment, followed by an Instagram. Isn’t college just one big hike? You know the summit is there, it’s easier for some of us to see. Perhaps it isn’t about the end goal, but rather how you get there. If you didn’t struggle to reach the top would you ever feel fulfilled? Or would it all have been for the picture and validation of others? I think the struggle is where we make our memories. Even as the celebration of the summit fades, you remember the journey. Isn’t that more exciting than the label we put on our summits?