Aching legs and burning lungs,
Tendons fit to burst,
I really feel I’m going to die
Of complete exhaustion or thirst.
Keep your head up, look ahead,
That’s what I keep repeating,
And yet the summit never nears,
In fact, I’d say it’s retreating.
Finally I’m nearly there,
The summit’s just ahead,
Although it won’t mean very much
If I’m already dead!
Now standing here atop the world,
The land stretched out before me,
There are few experiences available
That can make one feel so free.
As I gaze across the Irish sea,
Or onto the moors of Yorkshire,
Or over the border to Scotland,
I feel like I couldn’t be higher.
So suddenly the strain is worth it,
And I know why I made the climb:
To stand in the place where land and sky meet,
Where you feel you could traverse time.
***
Written after climbing Skiddaw in the Lake District, England
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