Near the Peak

I don't think I told anybody yet on this site, but I hiked my first 14-er this summer.
Granted, it was a lot warmer and more crowded than this picture, but that's not the point.
Our team started already somewhat close to the top of the mountain, parking our car around 11,000 feet. Now, I had already hiked smaller mountains before, and I lived at a pretty steady 6,000 feet most of my life, so I thought I knew what I was in for. Even so, I remember feeling the air spill right out of my lungs as soon as I stepped out of the car.
"Oh, no," I thought. "What did I just sign up for?"
Now, this wasn't that tall of a mountain- Mount Sherman in Colorado, just sitting at 14,030. Regardless, this was my first hike above treeline, and I did not feel prepared for it. The first mile or so went by well enough, but after the point where the moss and grass stopped growing, every step felt like a mile. There were moments when I thought the wind would just push me off the side of the ridge. Even with the peak in sight, the moments leading to it were long enough that I wondered if I would ever make it to the top, let alone the bottom.
How do you make it to the top of a mountain? You tell yourself that you can.
If you saw yourself on the trail, struggling as much as you were, what would you tell him? If you saw him give up so close to the top and start back down, what would you say to him? Like I said, I met several other people on my way to the top, and I never once wished that they wouldn't make it. If I could root random strangers on, why not myself?
...
So, yeah. Made it to the top, made it back down, got a nice burger to eat, and drew a picture.
Welcome to the life of a Wheja.

Rendered in Photoshop