The changing sound of air on Colorado’s highest peak
My thoughts buzzed, angry and mutinous: “I can’t make it. I’m going to die at 8 in the morning, slumped over a giant rock, legs churning uselessly, granola bar uneaten. I’m not taking another step. I’m finished.” I lurched to a stop and bent over, open-mouthed and drooling like an exhausted dog.
Friends had assured me that climbing a Colorado fourteener would be a thrilling experience, one that would change my life. I now realized, as my screeching lungs threatened to explode, that the promised change could be toting around an oxygen tank for the rest of my life.
My husband and I had started