I feel my breath, my lungs like a bellows, sucking the air in and blowing it out.  In, out, in, out . . . I don’t really want to hear myself breathe because it reminds me that I’m working my ass off to get up this mountain.  I feel the burn – in my thighs, my calves, my throat – it hurts, but that pain means I’m ALIVE.  This is some hard work. My heart is a jackhammer. I feel the power in my legs, the sweat on my back, the wind on my face.  I look up every few steps to check out my progress and see what I can see.  And what I can see is what feels like the top of the world, for the moment.  I watch as step by step I can see the other side come into view - just the horizon at first, then a little more and a little more until I reach the top and the world unfolds at my feet.  I spread my arms wide, embracing the universe. I tip my head back and breathe it all in.  This is how I feel every time I reach the top.  This is why I love the mountains. 
 

This is the view from the summit of Mt. Whitney, at an elevation of 14,505 ft. the highest place in the lower 48 United States. I've been to the top four times now, each time a unique experience.  To get to the top takes planning, preparation, work and a positive attitude.  The permit lottery is the first obstacle to overcome. Fitness training, trip preparation and acclimation to altitude are next. Then there's the 11 miles and 6,140 ft. of elevation gain between the trailhead and the summit.  The air is thin, breathing takes effort and causes fatigue. Sections of the trail are rough and require focus as a misstep can take you over the edge.  But at the top, well, the view, the high, and the successful accomplishment are worth all the effort.  And then there's the trip back down . . .