To scale your series of mountains, take just one more step!

Two weeks ago, I took part in a hike, climbing Kijabe and Kinare hills in the Rift Valley. It was my first hike, and while I was excited at the prospect, and had been training for weeks, I couldn’t have imagined just how physically and mentally exhausting it would be. We set off early in the morning, and started our climb just after 8am, walking uphill for several hours.

Pretty soon, the experienced hikers and those who were more physically fit, led the pack, lengthening the distance between themselves and us, the slow group, with every step.

Eventually, we summited the first hill, resting briefly before beginning the descent. If I thought going up was tough, I soon discovered that coming down was almost as hard on the knees. We tried to devise different ways of descending, including going backwards, to avoid the inevitable strain. At the foot of Kijabe hill, we took what we thought was a well deserved break, and fuelled up with snacks. Then it was on to hill two. Pretty soon, Kinare showed us that Kijabe hill had been kindergarten. Again, I fell to the back of the pack, choosing to pace myself.

“Are we almost there?” we kept asking, but our hearts were dashed to see that each hill gave way to…. another hill.

Then it happened. I hit, what my friend calls, a wall. Several hours into this climb, I just couldn’t take it any more. My legs refused to move. My chest felt like it would explode. Looking around at the steep forested incline, with snakes rustling in the bushes, I wondered if this was the end.

My body may have been at breaking point but evidently my humour was intact. “It’s the 19th, not a good day to die,” I thought.

“Where’s this place again? Kinare hill. Hmmm. Not a good place to die either. Having said that, this is a good place and day as any to give up!” Blame the limited oxygen for the crazy conversations going on in my head.

For all I knew, I was half way up the hill, holding up other climbers behind me on that narrow unbeaten path, but all I wanted was to get off. Preferably by chopper. As my life flashed before my eyes, I thought of the helicopter hire advert on television, “Time flies... so should you!” Romantic visions of my air rescue momentarily dulled the pain. Then I reached for the cellphone and discovered to my alarm that there was no network. It seemed like I was never going to make it off that hill that rose straight and steep before me, like a colossus. “No chopper! No chopper! No chopper! Nye, Nye, Nye, boo, boo!” It seemed to mock me.

Then, one of my fellow climbers, from behind gently uttered these life inspiring words. “Just take one step.” I wanted to scream that I couldn’t but her voice was so kind and caring that I decided to try. Gathering every ounce of energy left, I focused on her instruction. I didn’t have to worry about climbing the hill. I just needed to take one step. Surely, I could do that. So I did. Then I took another. Eventually, several hours later, we all made it to the top tired, battered but not broken. We stopped to take it all in, the magnificent view of the Rift Valley and the hills that we had conquered that day. I thought to myself, “This is so much like life.” You never know what’s ahead, and sometimes, every hill just gives way to another more gruelling hill, with small moments of reprieve in between. Yet, when it all gets to be too much, all you need to do is take one step. That’s how you conquer a mountain, and life. Sometimes taking that step is so easy, especially when you are in the plains, that you hardly even notice what you are doing. Then you get to the inclines of life, and taking one step is so difficult, you literally feel every muscle in your legs.

Life will give us many hills to climb in our relationships, career, health or finances. But Kijabe and Kinare hill taught me that instead of focussing on what seems like an insurmountable mountain, all that is required is for us to take one step. And then the next.