Beyond the Summit: A Journey of Dreams and Letting Go.
After crossing the finish line of my first marathon in New York, I had set my sights on an even greater challenge – Everest.
In 2009, I climbed Kilimanjaro as my first of the Seven Summits, and in 2010, I was ready for the next: Mount Elbrus in Russia, the highest peak in Europe at 5,642 meters.
Mount Elbrus is unforgiving, more technically demanding than Kilimanjaro, with icy terrain, biting winds, and thin air that tests every climber.
I joined a group of adventurers – some seasoned mountaineers, others like me, still finding their footing.
Our guides were three seasoned Russian mountaineers, and together we set out up the mountain, hauling our supplies to base camp, where the “accommodations” were metal barrels perched high in the freezing snow.
Each day, we climbed higher, pushing ourselves into increasingly thinner air before returning to base camp to acclimatize.
I could feel the mountain’s power, and the air felt electric with possibility.
But then, on the final acclimatization day before the summit, it happened.
Suddenly, everything went dark.
I blinked, panicked, only to realize that my eyes were wide open – I simply couldn’t see.
The guides helped me sit, coaching me through, reassuring me as my vision began to return.
We tried again, but every step I took further up the mountain would plunge me back into darkness.
My first experience with altitude sickness was terrifying and absolute.
One of the guides walked me down, back to base camp, where we packed my things and hiked all the way to the base of the cable car.
When I reached my hotel, the weight of what had happened sank in.
Lying on the bed, I called Vered to tell her, and that’s when I broke down.
In those moments, I knew Everest would never be within reach.
It felt as though a precious dream had slipped through my fingers, and I cried in a way I hadn’t for many years.
Two days later, the rest of my group returned.
Some had reached the summit; others hadn’t.
But for me, it felt like I hadn’t even tried.
It was the end of my short path as a mountaineer, but looking back, I wouldn’t change a thing.
This experience taught me that sometimes, life has other plans, and perhaps, in this lifetime, Everest simply wasn’t in the cards.
