I had decided to get fit and more importantly, healthy. Like so many, I had developed bad habits. Habits that included bad food and good times and had excluded good ones such as exercise. So off I went to the gym on the premises where I worked. I signed up for a membership as well as personal training sessions. Let’s face it I really didn’t have an excuse! It was just downstairs.

I worked hard, and I was worked hard. There were times that I thought I would vomit or pass out, but I persevered. I had the most energetic and focused personal trainer. People were scared of her. She got me to do things I never in my wildest dreams thought I ever could have done. She pushed me and I did what she said. I had a goal and I was going to achieve it.

Funnily enough I would very often get stopped throughout the day by people I did not know. They would say, “Oh my gosh! I just have to tell you that I felt so grateful that it was you and not me getting trained this morning. I felt truly sorry for you”.

It took around a year to reach my goal, where I truly felt fit and healthy. I started running and entered fun runs. I attended boot camps and I kept pushing myself, but I reached a stage where I didn’t have a goal any more. I was working on maintenance not working toward a goal. I realised quickly that this needed to change, otherwise the exercise would become a chore.

Dangerous territory for me, especially when I had come so far.

One morning I got the gym and someone I had known for many years was there. He had just returned from an epic trek where he trekked to Island Peak in Nepal. It is higher than Base Camp Everest. I asked him what was next, and he replied “Mt Kilimanjaro”. I asked a few more questions, only to be nice and to seem interested. He then said “You should come”. I laughed and responded “I don’t camp”. He joined me in laughter and I got on with my work out.

When I got home that night, I recalled our conversation. I pulled out my laptop and googled “trekking Mt Kilimanjaro”. I spent the rest of the night inhaling the information. It fascinated me. I then thought to myself, “Why not”?

My research showed that the biggest challenge for anyone attempting this, was the impact of altitude. An impact which could be deadly. I hadn’t ever been in altitude so of course this was a concern. I was fit, but being fit wouldn’t necessarily prevent the impact of altitude sickness.

There was a lot of information on people having to turn back during their trek, as the impact of altitude was too much for them. Potentially putting their health at risk. I went back to my friend the next morning and asked a few more questions. How had altitude affected him on the treks he had done? Had he done specific preparation? “You seem interested” he said. A non-committal “Maybe” was my view at this point.

That night I researched further. How could I prepare myself to deal with altitude? So that if I did have to turn back, I would be comfortable, albeit disappointed, to do so? Comfortable because I knew that I had done everything within my power to succeed. My research brought me to a gym that had an altitude room you could train in. Perfect! I had 6 months and I could work with a trainer there to get me as prepared as I could.

The next day, two days after our initial conversation, I went back to my friend. “I’m in!” I said, and my deposit was paid that day. I had committed. I felt excited that I had the challenge of the trek to look forward to, but, felt so relieved to have a focus. A goal. A goal I was committing to 100%.

My parents didn’t quite share my excitement. I called them later in the week. My father answered the phone, which was quite unusual. I told him the exciting news. He laughed and said “you don’t camp”. “We I will be”, I responded. Still laughing he says “You do realise you will have to go to the toilet in a hole”, “yes of course I know that” I say. “Well good luck with that! I’ll get your Mother”, he signed off with. Not quite the response I had been hoping for. My mother on the other hand was a little more bewildered. “Why would you want to do that” she asked. “Well because it would be a great challenge, and an amazing part of the world to visit” I replied. “Do you really need such an extreme challenge?” she asked. “Yes”, I replied. “OK well enjoy” she said.

“It seems no one is sharing my excitement here”, I think to myself.

My altitude training started the next week with a very focused plan set out by my new Trainer. The training was very different to what I had been doing. It was very focused and strategic and focused on set parts of the body. I loved it. It was a great change to the pace I had been training at.

I would walk up escalators the wrong way with a 30kg pack on my back, and then follow that up with circuit training in the altitude room. We would go on half day treks in the mountains. Each week the room would be set at a higher altitude, until we got to the point that it could go no further. Whilst it couldn’t get to the same height as My Kilimanjaro, it was acclimatising my body to be able to cope with altitude.  I felt great. I felt focused. I felt alive. I was ready. Well as ready as I could be.

We left on a Saturday. I remember calling my parents on the way to the airport to say good bye. My mother was trying to hide the fact that she was crying on the other end of the phone. Not to mention that she was talking to me like I was about to die. My father was not much better. Not ideal. Understanding their concern, their most adventurous trip to date had been driving from LA to Las Vegas, I promised to check in with them when I could. And off we went.

A marathon journey. Sydney to Bangkok. Bangkok to Dubai. Dubai to Nairobi. Exhausted we made it to our hotel in Nairobi. We each went to our rooms to shower before we met for dinner in the hotel restaurant. When I exited my room and made my way to the stairs, I was met with a “Hello”. Startled I look up to see a VERY large security guard holding a machine gun just outside of my room. “Hello” I responded to him before half running down the stairs. When I met up with my friend relayed my experience, and he said that he had the same. It appeared that there was an armed security guard on every floor. I wasn’t sure if I should feel scared or secure. “We are not in Kansas any more Toto” I joked to my friend. We were certainly long way from home. Thankfully I was too exhausted to spend a sleepless night worrying about whether I should be scared or feel secure.

We headed out at 6am the following morning to make our way across the border into Tanzania, to reach the start of the trek. It took a day. Off road and on. Bumping around the back of a four wheeled drive. At times, I would think, “where the hell are we?”, as often you wouldn’t see another car for hours. Finally, we made it to our hotel and to our meeting with what would be our very trusted guide, to be briefed for our trek. This just got real!

The next day we packed our bag for the Sherpa and yaks to take, and our day packs. We stored what was left and off we went. I still remember the drive there. I could see the mountain in the distance. It was imposing and real. I was quietly asking it to be kind to me. I was excited but also, felt a level of trepidation. I wanted my training to have been enough.

I won’t lie I was ill from the beginning. Even after having to have 18 shots to ensure I was immunised for everything possible, I also needed immunisation against malaria. I therefore had to take some very heavy-duty malaria tablets that gave me chronic diarrhoea from the beginning. This lasted the whole time I was in Africa (21 days in total). I tried to put this aside and focus on the task ahead. Take each day as it came.

I was good for the first 2 days. I felt good and slept well, well except for the dream. I experienced very bizarre and vivid dreams most nights. A side effect of altitude that I had read about. We made it to camp each night and would see the same people from other groups at the camp site. I remember meeting a guy from Canada. He was around 28. He was on his own with his guide. He had just come from another trek and successfully completed many others. I was so impressed and wondered to myself, would this become me? First things first, I agreed with myself. Get this one done!

On day 3 it hit me. I was so ill. I felt light-headed and hideously nauseous. I made it to the camp that night and went straight to my tent. I felt like I just needed to sleep. When I am not feeling well, I have always just wanted to be left alone and today was no different. My friend was concerned and I assured him I was fine. The guide was also concerned and I also assured him I was fine. I just felt like I needed to sleep and then I would be fine. The guide checked on me multiple times throughout the night. The next morning I felt much better, and I was ready to continue the trek. Little did I know, the guide had decided that if I had still been unwell in the morning he would have sent me back down the mountain. Something I found out later.

We headed off to the next and final camp site prior to summit. We arrived and had a quick snack before retreating to our tents. We needed to sleep as we were to be awoken at 11pm to start our final ascent at midnight.

I was nervous but focused. Slowly, slowly had been drummed into us from the beginning. One foot in front of the other. Something that would be key in this final stage. It was so dark. We all had our head torches on but how these guides knew which way to go in the pitch black was amazing to me. It was so cold. The temperature dropped to -30 degrees and the wind was howling. My jacket and face were caked with ice and I lost feeling in my hands for over 3 hours. I felt like I could have vomited with every step I took, but I was not going to let myself get this far and not make it. It would take hours to travel such a short distance. We were regularly stopping which we needed, and the guides would rub your back and arms in an attempt to keep you warm.

When I saw that sign in the distance indicating we had made it, I remember letting out a sob. It was not only a sign of such great relief, but so much pride. My preparation and hard work had been worth it. I had made it! I still feel great emotion today when I think about that moment.

I had seen so many pictures of others getting to the top. They are laughing and smiling. The sun is shining and the sign they are standing in front of is so visible. For us, it was snowing, blowing a gale and you couldn’t see one foot in front of you.

Not the photo opportunity I had hoped for, but with the relief I was feeling I couldn’t have cared. I had made it.

I later found out that the impact of altitude was too much for the guy from Canada, and he did not make to the top, and had had to turn back. A difficult decision for him to have made no doubt, but the right one. One I am so fortunate not to have had to have made.

My first trekking expedition enabled me to see the true beauty and harshness of this intimidating mountain. It allowed me to have such a memorable experience with a group of amazing and beautiful locals. Locals that had my welfare in their hands and took that responsibility incredibly seriously. An experience I will remember until the end of time not only for the beauty it was, but for what it taught me.

What it taught me was the importance of having big, bold goals. They drive me and excite me. That I need a very clear plan to achieve my goal and I need to stick to it. Otherwise, the goal is at risk. My final lesson, and probably the most important is to think of the end at the beginning. For me I had to be mentally prepared for potentially having to turn back, and to be genuinely comfortable with that. I needed to not see it as a failure, but an act of circumstance. That if I did have to turn back it was not because of anything I had or hadn’t done, but just an unfortunate result of something outside of my control. 

The key…focus on what you can control and accept that in which you can’t. For me preparing myself as best I could was within my control. I had prepared for both reaching the top and having to turn back, and I was proud of that.