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Was in the Highlands at new year with some family, and had a bad chest infection which meant I was having quite a lot of trouble breathing. For some reason though, I decided to do the longest walk we had planned, with the most height gain as well. The first couple of monros were ok, but my chest became very tight for the third. It genuinely felt like I was only using about half a lung. I was cold, wet and exhausted, and by the time we got to a fork in the path that would have given me the option to skip the final munro, and head back to the car, I was ready to suck it up and start walking down alone. But just as everyone else was about to disappear behind a corner, I changed my mind. I gathered all the energy I had left and turned around,to begin the final climb. I soon caught up to great cheers, only for the weather to suddenly change from light flurries of snow to a full on ice storm with insane winds. The only thing that mattered to me was getting to the top though, so I zipped up my jacket and marched on. There was no view at the top, no opportunity to rest and celebrate, not even a chance for a picture. Just a cairn. But all that mattered was that I'd done it. I hadn't just conquered the mountain, I'd conquered myself.
Reading this back it sounds cheesy as shit, but it meant a lot to me. I had pretty bad depression and being able to do that pulled me out of it a bit. Can't remember which mountain it was, but pic is one that we climbed another day.
