Hard lessons. Have you ever been close to reaching your limits? Do you know where the edges of your abilities lie? I didn't. Now, I'm a lot closer to knowing.

During a long weekend last week, I participated in a hut trip including Marc and 8 other people. I've been in the backcountry before on snowshoes to winter camp and to do some avalanche training. I felt relatively well-equipped, even though I'm certainly no expert. It was my first time in the backcountry on AT skis. Overall, I felt pretty confident on the skis. The views were extraordinary and the weather was grand. The McNamara Hut itself was wonderfully welcoming. The experience of getting to the hut was one I won't soon forget.

Without trying to make excuses, a few things were working against me: my equipment wasn't 100% bullet-proof - for 8 long hours my boots continually beat up my feet and left my arches cramping and prickly, and my toes black, blue, swollen. Putting my own weight and the weight of my pack on them became excruciating after a few hours. My health wasn't 100% up to par - I am experiencing some extremely low iron stores in my blood and as a result, some higher-than-normal levels of fatigue. Even without those factors, it still would have been a challenging experience. *With* those factors, it was extremely difficult and in hindsight, downright stupid.

There were times of sheer fatigue, pain and concern for safety that kept tugging at me to stop. There were feelings of guilt, humiliation and the frustration of conflicting emotions - by turning around I'm letting my teammate down...maybe I'm just not working hard enough. OR on the other hand, by pressing on I'm potentially putting myself and Marc at risk for harm. There were constant internal questions - checklists of supplies and "what if" scenarios; monitoring of the time and noting where the shadows fell. And after a long while, there were the slight beginnings of hypothermia. There was a brief period of time where I was completely alone in the dark, skiing only on adrenaline and starting to really dehydrate. There was an almost overwhelming feeling of relief and gratitude at seeing my traveling companions' headlamps approaching me through the trees.

Without going into all the details, looking back on it today, the decisions that were made were generally good ones. We did what we could to be safe and smart. We had a radio, decent gear, and we didn't leave the trail. Our companions in the hut could communicate with us. The worst decision made was mine - to continue pressing on, deeper into the backcountry. Ultimately, I completed the trip but I should have turned around. Like I say: I didn't know where my limits were. I pushed it. I know now that I came close to them. It's a humbling, frustrating, exhausting, scary, emotional experience. But, it's also an empowering experience. Now I know. If you reach deep inside you have to face harsh realities - some that are good and some that are not-so-complimentary. This was a necessary experience for me to go through to appreciate and gauge where I can push and where I shouldn't attempt to push, for my own safety as well as for the safety of my partner.

It was incredibly hard while it was happening. I'm grateful for it, now. There might be a safer and smarter way of learning where your limits are, but apparently I hadn't yet pushed my limits that close to the edge in my 36 years. You can bet that I've learned from this and that I'll be better equipped at how to manage my capabilities during the next challenge. Knowledge makes you stronger. When the swelling and bruising dissipate, I'll be ready to start thinking about the next trip.

My deepest gratitude to the entire team - Marc (especially Marc, as my teammate he was the only person with me throughout the entire experience), Jason, Tom, Dave, Kevin, Patrick, Abe, Jud & Mike - for all the assistance and support during the "adventure".