“I had mutilated myself with food year after year. Now I had to carry the results with me day in and day out. I wanted to blame everyone and everything else. My gloves were too thin. My boots were too heavy. With each step I took, my feet dug deeper into the scree, making it more difficult to move. I could see that my bitching and moaning were holding up the group. I had a choice: stand still or keep going. Going back was not an option.”