What I learned about work by climbing a mountain
Last week, I climbed a mountain. Not a metaphorical one, a real one, called Schafberg, that rises 1754 metres above St Wolfgansee in Austria.
I was on holiday, with my new boyfriend. He’d written about climbing a mountain being an ideal first date on his Hinge profile. After a few months of dating, we decided to go on holiday together, and we landed on Austria as a destination.
We had a ball. We hired bikes, watched the England game in a thunderstorm, swam in lakes, drank far too much wine (me), ate schnitzel and strudel, and woke up every day to stunning views. We also spent three hours of unadulterated joy on a Sound of Music bicycle tour. And then on the last day, came the mountain.
As any of you who have read this Substack from the start will know, I have a tendency to fret before a big physical challenge. My faffing when I trained for a marathon was off the scale, and I recognised the same feelings in the days leading up to our climb. I fizzed with low level anxiety, and kept asking him questions, designed to sound casual, but which weren’t fooling anyone. I read numerous reviews on the hiking app we were using, trying to find people who had done similar climbs to me before (this is my third mountain) and who were of a similar age and levels of fitness. I quietly and efficiently wound myself up.
The next morning, I woke up to a glorious day of blue skies and sunshine with the lake outside our window still and unruffled. We cycled to the start and then we were off. The first hour was fine. There were steep bits, but we were in the forest, and it was before 7am so it was cool and shady. He kept reminding me to drink little and often. “You’re losing a lot of fluids”. He was being kind. I was sweating like an absolute bastard.
The second hour was ok too. It was beautiful under the trees, and peaceful, and the only sounds we could hear were the birds and our own footsteps crackling on the forest floor.
We came out of the trees, and I could see the hotel at the top of the mountain ahead of me and I was so pleased with myself. I ate my cheese roll and felt chuffed. I really felt like I’d accomplished something.
Except I hadn’t.
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