To Summit

summit [suhm-it]: noun - (1) the highest point or part, as of a hill, line of travel, or any object; top; apex (2) the highest point of attainment or aspiration: the summit of one's ambition.   (3)verb - to reach the summit of. 

This word became very important to me last Saturday. 

Summit. Summit. 

The summit. Reach the summit.

The summit... 

It was all I could think of. The summit of Mount Fuji. 

And I was so excited to climb! In fact, I had been excited since February- before I even knew I would be going to Japan. After looking at Mikey's photo album from a past SIJ trip up the volcano- I knew that I too wanted to conquer Mt. Fuji. 

A few of us during the hike.

Photo courtesy of Jillian Nelson

When it was confirmed that BEST club would be taking another Mount Fuji trip this summer, I was beyond excited. However, the skeptical faces of past climbers whose mouths exuded nervous laughs and phrases like, "never again" and "altitude sickness" weren't exactly validating my enthusiasm, but they pushed me to want to conquer it even more. 

Because of this, I decided to train. Knowing the mountain would be difficult, I knew anything

 would help- especially anything uphill. Luckily, 

(or maybe unluckily..) there's this hill we have to walk up every time we come back to our apartment. And this hill served as a tool for both training and encouragement as our utterances of "Fuji muscles" accompanied sweaty bodies and aching quads on the hottest days- reminding us that the neighborhood climb was not in vain. 

Besides that, I did some running on my own, some uphill sprints, ran flights of stairs.. I felt good in my preparedness. However, I had no way to measure that preparedness against the mountain itself until I got there. In the mean time, I built an image: an image of the climb; and in that image, I illustrated my potential, and within that potential- my performance. 

And that's what killed me. 

Summit: the point of attainment or aspiration.  

Looking up the mountain. 

I've always been a person who competes inwardly. My competitive nature is driven mostly by my need to obtain personal goals: choir president, valedictorian, rowing 500,000 meters in 8 weeks.. etc. However, it's these personal goals that prove so detrimental to my feeling of accomplishment; If I cannot realize a goal in the way I wanted to, if I cannot summit -so to say- I have failed. I've failed myself. And if I've failed myself, I've failed my team. I've failed my friends. And I cannot take it back. 

This wonderful trait of mine came swinging back full circle at Station 8 of Mount Fuji. After 4 hours of relentless uphill climbing, and with 2 more to go, my frustration and discouragement had set in. I had become the weakest of the 14 climbers. And that got to me. Despite my preparation physically for the climb, I could not even get in a state mentally that would help me overcome the challenge. 

See what happened was, the bar I'd set for my expected performance was high, and for me that bar was a goal. Yes, to summit Fuji was the prize I'd ultimately gain but- I wanted to conquerthe mountain. Not just make it. 

Well at that point, I was only 'making it,' and just barely too. Though the initial pain had passed, I was suffering from pure muscle exhaustion; and whether that was from not being in shape, or the depletion of available oxygen, or a combination of the two- I didn't know, I didn't care- the only person I could blame was myself. 

Because even if I reached the summit of the mountain,

I knew I wasn't going to summit my personal expectations.

Thus as we began to climb again, the word "summit" became bittersweet.

I had to say "shoganai"* and just move on. 

I had to reach the summit.. 

..it definitely would not be pretty if I didn't. 

The view of the summit from Stn. 8

I could see the summit of Mt. Fuji for the rest of the climb. I tried to count the switchbacks. 

"About 30 more minutes," Mark said. 30 minutes, I thought, okay so, that's about 8 songs. How many meters is a 1/2 hour of rowing? The song Dark Blue by Jack's Mannequin is about 4 minutes- if I sing it 3 times I'm half way there. 

I tried everything to keep my mind off of failure. Songs, memory verses.. 

My group was ahead of me. 

Mark was behind with me.   

I felt like a burden.

I also felt like a fussy child as I compared Mt. Fuji to what Mt. Everest must be like. 

Man up! I thought And summit this thing already! 

We finally turned the last switchback onto the last stretch of stairs; it was the point when I came closest to tears during the climb. Tears out of frustration, grief, happiness, relief, probably more things than I can count- maybe even tears just from the sting of the cold.. nonetheless, turning that last switchback humbled me.

See I had wanted to get down from Fuji and be able to say so nonchalantly, "yeah it was a good hike. Kinda difficult but, you know.." However my right to say that had, obviously, been demolished; and with it, my pride. And those final few minutes really made me think- because as I turned the last corner, I saw my group- scattered along the top of the stairs, waiting-waiting at the gates, so we could all cross into the summit together. 

Seriously?! After 6 hours of strenuous hiking, they're going to forsake their right to take one more step? Just one more step and they all could have summitted.. 

People want to see you succeed, and they want to succeed with you. 

Where's the joy in summitting a mountain by yourself? A mere supplementing of your ego, and then what? The descent. It's so empty.

What's the point in needing to achieve on your own? 

In needing to succeed by your own strength?

I was bred by a society with individualistic tendencies.

And I've only come to realize that since being in Japan. 

In so many ways I'm learning what it really means to summit.  

  

Me at the summit of Mount Fuji. 

*shoganai: it cannot be helped; there's nothing you can do; oh well.