Failure is the mother of success
Plank at sunset on Kili
While I can’t say I’m not bothered by failure, I can at least recognize that very often I get some of my best stories out of failures or at least times when things didn’t go as expected.
Still, failing is hard. It’s hard to accept. It’s hard to admit. It’s embarrassing. When I failed to summit Mt. Kilimanjaro those were a mixture of the emotions I experienced—embarrassment, frustration, sadness, disappointment, but also understanding and acceptance.
The moment I realized I wasn’t going to reach the top I started crying. I don’t cry that often so I’m not really used to it. And, normally if I need to cry in public I try not to. There was no holding back these tears. They just came. I’d exerted too much energy getting this far to utilize any effort holding back tears now. I’d lost control of my body, physically and emotionally. I basically cried myself down that mountain, doing the walk of shame as everyone heading up stepped aside to let me down.
They were letting me pass, but I had let myself down.
