there is this one hike i think about quite often, the one in Manamoc, where it was probably one of the hardest I've ever done since there wasn't any path, just rubble and rocks and you had to watch your footing. at the same time, we were hustling because we wanted to catch the sunset. i remember starting of really energized and on the paved roads I hit the ground running in the dark, running away from my dad and my sister and the rest of the group so I went with one of the tour guides. I was pretty good and at that rate I would've made it in no time. but, then we started going up hill. it wasn't too bad but then it was sustained. I remember the feeling of being at the bottom of the mountain, looking up, and just being in absolute disbelief that I could make it to the top. but at that point, I didn't believe that I couldn't do it so I hit the ground running and told myself: go, so i didn't stop my pace and kept on jogging, climbing and climbing, watching my footing, until the soil began to disappear and instead I found myself stepping on jagged rocks and rubble. occasionally, my foot would slip but I would catch myself and get up and keep going, the guide in front of me, me keeping up my pace acting like nothing happened, and smiling and laughing off any mistakes that I would make with my footing if i slipped. But losing my footing a few times now, I started feeling uncertainty in my gut, genuinely scared and I began to see futures, split second possibilities where I could lose my footing and not catch myself, go slipping and sliding down the mountain where the edges were jagged. there were even times when I did loose my footing and catch myself with my hands before falling onto a jagged edge. So, because I was genuinely scared and knew that there was actually a very real possibility that I would fall and that there was a healthy chance that the painful future could be a reality, I slowed down and started watching where i put my foot, more careful and more considerate of where I put my rubbershoe. After a while of this, my guide, who was behind me in the run but was now several feet above me on the mountain would wait a couple of seconds so I wouldn't be too far behind. He, who was only in flip flops was effortlessly summiting this rock and rubble of a mountain. I was amazed. I remember reaching the 3/4 mark of the mountain (Mount English which is what the locals call it) and stopping for a while. I could feel my ribs beginning to cramp so I stopped for a while for a breath. I almost sat down but the guide told me don't because I would lose momentum. But standing there, catching my breath, I looked out onto the island and the ocean and it was beautiful, the colors of the sky just before the sun rises. This is a different kind of beautiful. I wouldn't say that this is more beautiful than a sunset or sunrise but I'd just say that it's a different kind of beautiful...serene blues that offer the starkest contrast with the dimmer and sleeping land. I remember looking at the view then looking to the top of the mountain and thinking, this is okay already, no need to get to the top, this view is beautiful it's probably not going to make much of a difference and it's hassle pa. But the guide started moving and was like "oh i can see them already, they're almost here" so i thought, oh, then the run would all be for nothing. so then he saw that I was tired and took I took his hand and we kept going. there were times when I felt like dead weight and he was just pulling me up, and I was absolutely amazed at how his hand was so firm and steady and never wavered at all. dizzy having some altitude sickness (maybe) or i just didn't have my breakfast, we reached another plateau where I was ready to give up, but then I remembered that it really was no use and all the effort was for nothing if I just gave up then. so i just kept on going and the guide helped me and I was just pushing myself and pushing and pushing and pushing until finally