Today I quietly walk alone to the the base of an enormous mountain covered in dangerous seracs, deep crevices, and treacherous traverses. Though I have never been to the top of the mountain I know it very well. I have made many attempts and understand the journey I am about to embark on is the most difficult of my life. I dare not take anyone with me. It’s too dangerous and no one knows this mountain like I do. This is my mountain. The conditions at the base are safe and pleasant but I don’t think about staying for long. I just stare up at the challenge before me with blind ambition. I never know what it is or where it comes from but the force that pushes me to reattempt this climb is relentless. So as I have done many times before I plan my route, check my gear, and inventory my provisions. All is set and for now I have discarded any thoughts of previous failed attempts to summit but as soon as I step foot on the mountain my perception immediately changes. My pack seems heavier, the crevices look wider, and the traverses appear impassible. In previous attempts this might have been enough to turn me around but not today. The urge to conquer my mountain is more present than ever. I begin trekking up the mountain with ever increasing speed. Ignoring the dangers and obstacles laid out before me. This goes on for what seems like hours. I don’t notice my surroundings or pause even for a moment to indulge in the breathtaking views. Scared that if I do I might succumb to perils I’m sure are there. Time is running out and I have to get to the top fast. I can see the summit, but then I stop. What if the view from the top isn’t what I though it would be? What if I get there and can’t find my way back? What if when I finally reach the summit all I see is an even bigger mountain behind this one? So as I have done every day for as long as I can remember I make my way back down to rest for my attempt tomorrow.