I wake up at 4 am, at the trailhead for a climb. We are supposed to be starting the climb at 5 (true to real life, I am sleeping at the trailhead for Mount Saint Helens, where I will be waking at 4 to leave at 5).

I go into a sort of clubhouse to get ready. There is a large room with some long benches through the middle, littered with climbing gear and clothing, and crowded with other climbers also preparing to climb.

I'm packing my gear, dressing, and fastening things on my pack. One of the other climbers sneakily passes me a paper bag containing a bottle of red wine, offering me a sip. I feel like I'm getting away with something, and take a swig of it.

I did something special for my complexion. The pimples on my face were effectively removed, but leaving big round holes in my face, about the size of peas, opening into the black cavern of my head. It's horrifying to look in the mirror, and some of them even have some green stuff like moss hanging out of the holes. I wish I had never done this, it's macabre to even see, and just regular zits were so much less disturbing. I don't want anyone to see me.

Suddenly it's an hour later than I thought it was. I thought it was 4:30, and it's actually 5:30! I throw my stuff together and rush out to the trailhead, which is like the driveway at my parents' house, on the side near the pond. My team is already there, ready and waiting, including Doug Adair. I'm apologizing profusely for the delay, and while they seem slightly impatient, they are very understanding, just wanting to get on the trail without further fuss.