The sounds of my blaring alarm jolted me awake from my deep slumber. I slowly opened my eyes to the dark, open sky—an even freckle of stars illuminating my tent. A rush of adrenaline tickled my toes as I unzipped my thick sleeping bag. Silencing the alarm, the time of 11:50 pm lit up my phone screen. I quickly tugged on my heavy-duty, thick wool socks and slipped my long-sleeved shirt over my head. As I step out of my tent, the quiet bustle of my family around the campsite floods my senses. “Dahlia, are you fully packed and ready to go?” my dad whispered. I nodded and shoved my heavy backpack into the trunk of the car. Finally, it was time to go, and we made our way out of the campsite and up to the foot of Mount Shasta. When we arrived, the 14,000-foot Mountain loomed over me like a giant. The parking lot was almost empty except for the occasional group embarking on a similar voyage. Taking a deep breath, we started our crazy adventure.

The end of junior year was when my family and I decided we were going to hike up Mount Shasta, one of California's tallest mountains. The months leading up to this experience were full of excitement and fear. I didn't know what to expect. Our plan was to start hiking 12:00 a.m., and to finish at 4:00 p.m. Staying awake for that amount of time let alone hiking for that long had never been an experience I had.  The night our adventure finally began, I was faced with pure excitement and adrenaline. I was curious to see how this experience would feel. 

As the sun began to rise above the horizon, the sky flooded with colors I've never imagined. Pinks, purples, blues and greens all blended together into a perfect harmony. But as the sun rose, my legs began to grow exhausted. I had been hiking for almost 6 hours, and my quads began to burn.  A strong urge to quit repeated itself in my head over and over and over again. As the elevation grew, so did my desire to surrender. Tears began to blur my vision, and my will to continue dwindled. No matter the amount of encouragement my family was giving me, I was too stuck in my mind. Convincing myself I was unable to achieve what I've been looking forward to for months. The more we hiked, the farther I fell behind. 

Eventually, I couldn't take it anymore and I  sat directly on the snow. My eyes were shut as tears continue to roll down my face. When I slowly open my eyes, I gasped. Hundreds of miles were visible in each direction, trees reached to the skies, and houses seeming like specs of paint among a beautiful piece of art. My eyes roamed across the landscape, amazed with the wonder infront of me. Right then, a little voice broke though the wall of despair. The overbearing feeling of hopelessness was relinquished, and replaced with pure determination. “Look how far you’ve come” it said. I looked back at all the times I had felt hopeless.

While this was my most chalenging phisical experience, learning how to read was a very similar feeling. My inner voice reminded me of the much more significant barriers dyslexia had thrown my way. Even when my desire to give up when learning how to read was so strong, I persisted, and worked hard. All of the things I had accomplished were a product of me pushing myself to achieve those things. I was schlepped to tutoring, reading practices, and monthly reading evaluations. But I kept working at it even when it felt almost impossible. If I was able to learn to read in the face of all the barriers that were put my way, I was able to summit a mountain. 14,000 ft wan’t going to stop me. 

I stood up, turned around, and continued hiking. Determination course through my bones as I put one foot in front of the other. I experienced deep exhaustion; nevertheless, I continued. I wasn't going to let my limiting thoughts deter me from fulfilling my aspirations. 

Now whenever I feel like giving up, I use my tough experience as a motivation to keep working hard.