It. Your mountain. The one you want to climb.
A mountain can be anything. It symbolizes the big goal you want to achieve, the giant thing you want to do. The thing that causes excitement and fear to churn in your belly. The thing that your mind tells you you can’t do.
But you can.
This story is about an actual mountain.
Our first full day in Kitzbuhel, we embarked on a hike to a peak. It usually starts the way this journey did. When we arrived the day before, we found a spot for lunch on a patio. As I sipped a beer and watched a man with his guitar and his dog serenade from across the cobbled main street, my husband says, “we should go up there.” (Or something to that effect). He pointed. I looked up. There it was, a peak with some sort of cross on top.
The next morning, we embarked on the climb. I could see the peak from the valley floor. We started the trek. The time ticked by. We climbed, climbed, and climbed some more.
As I watched the meters of ascent accumulating on my watch, I wondered how high this thing was. After reaching 1000 meters of ascent, I thought surely this thing can’t go on much longer.
Overall, I was having a good day. It seemed my body was getting somewhat used to climbing and hiking most days. When we reached a cable car station, my mind was tested. I looked up at the switchbacks snaking their way up the side of the mountain to the next station and to the peak that we were after.
As I continued, I felt my mind waiver. I can’t do this. The panic laced words shimmered in my mind. I don’t like those words, but sometimes they present themselves.
Another look up the daunting climb and I was shot back to the first time I saw Alpe d’Huez hovering over me as I clung to the bike that was supposed to take me to the top. That was the day I truly learned to break the most incomprehensible thing into digestible pieces. It was a survival mechanism. It got me up that climb.
In this moment now, I didn’t want to dwell on thoughts of I can’t.
I chose to apply my strategy from the day of Alpe d’Huez. I focused on the next switchback, and nothing else. I told myself that the rest of the climb didn’t matter in this moment. The only thing that mattered was this switchback. This footstep. This moment.
That’s the whole point of this, really. Be in that moment with nature, on the mountain, taking the next step.
When you truly focus on the next step, your being sinks into that moment. Next thing you know, you’ve taken a bunch of steps.
As I made it to the last couple of switchbacks, I realized I was completely in. There was no turning back and I felt present.
Getting to the top felt real good. There’s nothing like making it to the top of your mountain and knowing that you did it, one step at a time.
By the end of the day, I’d climbed 1700 m. That felt pretty good. I’m so happy I simply took the next step.
As I re-read this post now, preparing to post it, I’m a good week or so ahead of my hiking adventure as I got a little behind in writing. I realize that this has become a common theme on this hiking trip, and I’m learning more and more about reframing things to set myself up for success and reach my goals. More in that soon.
What’s the mountain you want to conquer?
Just a Girl and a Bike 
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