Delivering Happiness

part of the adventure.
Our first day hiking Kilimanjaro was through dense rain forest.
Although it was warm at first, the temperature had cooled down by the end
of the day, and I was shivering from being soaked by the rain.
I was physically exhausted but I couldn’t sleep, so I started imagining
things in a dreamlike state. I was surprised to hear my cell phone ringing in
the middle of the night. I had thought that there wouldn’t be any reception
this high up on the mountain.
It was my real estate agent, calling to tell me the good news: There was
an offer for the party loft for more than the asking price. I immediately
accepted, and then hung up. A sense of relief passed over me. We had made
it over the hump. Zappos was saved.
Suddenly, the hiking that I had to do over the next five days didn’t seem
to be that big a deal anymore. Instead of hiking, I felt as if I was going to
get on a rescue plane the next morning that would fly over the top of the
snowcapped mountain and land me safely on the other side.
I slept peacefully for a few hours.
Then suddenly, I jolted awake. I thought I had heard an animal making a
strange noise outside, but it turned out to be just a figment of my
imagination.
And then a sinking feeling came over me as I realized the truth.
There was no phone call. There was no offer.
The whole conversation had been a dream.
Summit

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The next four days hiking up Kilimanjaro tested my physical, mental, and
emotional strength. We hiked twelve hours a day, making our way through
five different climate zones: rain forest, alpine heath, moorland, desert, and
snow.
I ended up getting a cold, with a cough and runny nose. The dryness at
higher elevations caused me to get a bloody nose. Half the time spent
hiking was with tissue paper stuck in my nostrils, making breathing even
more difficult. And even though I’d taken altitude sickness medication, the
high altitude resulted in headache, vomiting, and diarrhea. I was only
carrying a day pack, but my shoulder and back started acting up and
spasming. Physically, it was the most grueling thing I had ever done.
Mentally and emotionally, I kept thinking about Zappos. I wondered if I
would be able to sell the party loft in time, and what to do if that didn’t
happen. There were no showers or bathrooms. I was pretty miserable, and
there were many times when I thought about giving up and turning around.
On the night before the summit, we set up camp at 5:00 
PM
and tried to
go to sleep at 8:00 
PM
because we had to start our final summit at midnight.
Neither Jenn nor I could sleep because we were at such a high altitude, so
we ended up just tossing and turning until 11:30 
PM
, when we had to get up
out of our tents to get dressed and ready for the hike.
We started hiking at midnight so that we could get to the peak in time to
see the sunrise. We had been hiking for almost a week now, but this final
summit was much harder than the daytime hikes we had done before. It was
pitch black, and our headlamps were only bright enough for us to see five
feet ahead of us. There was no way to look ahead to see how much farther
we had to go, or to look behind to see how far we had gone. There was no
sense of progress as we slowly put one foot in front of the other. I thought
to myself that this must be what solitary confinement feels like.
We were bundled in eight layers of clothing because of the cold, which
made stopping to take a bio break an awkward and uncomfortable ten-
minute ordeal.
The final summit hike was also much tougher than anything we had
done before because of the high altitude. After each step forward, I had to
pause to inhale and exhale three times to catch my breath before I could put
my next foot forward. If it had been light out, it would have seemed like
slow progress. In the dark, it just seemed like no progress. We all hiked in

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complete silence because it would have taken too much physical effort to
talk.
I started trying to play mind games with myself. I knew the entire hike
would take about six hours, but I had no concept of how much time had
passed. I imagined that I was driving from my home in San Francisco down
to my friend’s house in Palo Alto, which was a forty-five-minute drive I had
made many times. I imagined the landmarks and highway exits along the
way, and started counting my steps. I imagined that every hundred steps
would be equivalent to driving five minutes farther, and I visualized in my
head the progress I was making toward Palo Alto. Once I eventually made
it to Palo Alto, I would turn around and drive back up to San Francisco in
my head.
After two round trips, I needed something else to keep me mentally
busy. Even though I had come this far and knew I was close to the summit,
I still thought about turning back. If I’d been alone, I’m sure I would have.
I hadn’t showered or had a decent meal or good night’s sleep in five
days. I started thinking about all the things that I took for granted in life,
and how much more I should appreciate the things I had. I imagined what a
nice, warm hot shower would feel like. I thought about what eating at Mel’s
Diner would be like. I imagined how delicious a turkey melt would be,
dipped in chicken noodle soup. I made a mental note and promised myself
that I would order that as my first meal when I got back home.
I remember thinking that this entire experience was by far the hardest
thing I had ever done in my life. It was testing every ounce of willpower I
had.
After what seemed like an eternity, we finally reached the summit just as
the sun was rising. I couldn’t believe that we had actually done it. We were
standing at the highest point in all of Africa, looking down at the clouds
below us, with the sun directly in front of us, its rays welcoming us to the
beginning of a new day. It didn’t seem like this was something that humans
were meant to experience, yet here we were.
In that moment, I thought to myself, Anything is possible.
Tears welled up in my eyes.
I was speechless.
I gave Jenn a hug.
We took a picture, and I checked Kilimanjaro off my list of things to do.

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