5am. Well this sucks. My head hurts. Coffee. Coffee will save me.

6am. It's cold, but at least there's enough light that I don't need my headlamp.

6:30am. Come on, coffee... Why have you forsaken me?

7am. W00t! Making great time. Not FKT time, but still pretty good.

7:15am. Unggg... I don't feel so well. I should turn back.

7:16am. NO! Must... not... give... in... (Must not throw up either.)

7:45am. Not on the summit yet, but haven't thrown up yet so... winning?

8:33am. Well, crud. Two hours and 33 minutes? Ugh. That's almost an hour more than my glory days in 2014. What a terrible climb.

But was it a terrible climb? The views were sublime. There was six inches of fresh snow atop a layer of styrofoam so the traction was excellent. Even though there were a bunch of people (and I got passed!) I saw far fewer people than if I'd gone to the office.

So yeah. I felt terrible on the way up and sore and tired once I got home, but the dopamine high dulled the pain. I was still not quite sure, but then I remembered the reason I get up to hike Mailbox on Sunday mornings. Every time I struggle up the mountain now is an easier epic hike with the kids later. And that's what really makes it all worthwhile.

Now if I could just remember that the next time I feel like turning around I'd be unstoppable.