How Climbing a Mountain Changed My Business

"Now I realise the difference between people I know who are successful and those who are exceptionally successful is one very small extra jump that not many of us dare to take."

Sunday 19th November 2017, the best and worst day of my life so far. 

It was the day I climbed my first mountain, Mount Kinabalu in Borneo. My friends who had climbed it told me it would be an easy climb, but I trained hard for it in any case. So with my fitness at the best it had been in my life, all the correct equipment which would cover us for every possible kind of dreamed-up emergency, the weather on our side and heavily carb-loaded bodies.. what could possibly go wrong? 

That’s how every bad story starts, isn’t it? Or at least every episode of Banged Up Abroad. Bear with me.. it’s really not that bad at all.

Day One

We were all smiles on day one. Very little to report except we ate most of our energy supplies and we were lucky enough to experience  the first rain free day in two months!

We were greeted at the lodge that evening with this..

A view only dreams are made of. Standing above the clouds, looking out on this amazing sunset and looking down on our achievements felt truly magical.

Day Two


Shit hits the fan. Almost literally. We wake up at 1am for the ascent to the peak. 

I can’t breathe very well because the air is so thin, that’s fairly common. We’re aching and my legs don’t feel like they are mine? Also fairly common.

The diarrhoea and sickness.. not so common.

Was it the food? Or maybe the water? Whatever it was I needed to get a grip, so I pop a few charcoal tablets an hope for the best. With head-torches lit we start the ascent in single file. It was about 100 meters in when I realised I couldn’t do it. 

I’m going to throw up. My legs aren’t listening to my brain. What lies ahead? How the hell do I get back down this mountain!?

I told my boyfriend to continue without me. I would wait for him at the guest house. The guide told me he once fell ill before the ascent and had to turn around. There was nothing to be ashamed of by stopping.

Maybe I still had a little something left in me.. I’ll just climb a few minutes more. 

We could see people in front of us for what seemed like miles and miles, their head torches like tiny matchsticks lighting the path. We were among the last people of the group. It felt demotivating. 


We continued upwards, through the checkpoints, whinging and complaining with every meter covered. How could I be so sick when I trained so hard for this. Everything should have been on our side. 

Eye Opener #1

(image source unknown)

The next checkpoint arrives and I’m finally ready to give up. I ask the guide whether he believes I can make it to the peak before the 7am cut off. His words go something a lot like this:

‘Do you want my honest opinion?’

That’s never a good sign. My mum used to say that and I know where this leads..

‘With the speed you're going at now and how sick you feel, I don’t think you can make it in time.’

I took his words as personal criticism, rather than a sensible, experienced estimation.  The last thing I needed was someone telling me I wasn’t capable of an extraordinary and highly unlikely challenge. Of bloody course I was going up that mountain now. 

To his great distaste I decided I would keep going until I really couldn't go any further.

He kind of abandoned us after that moment. He realised what kind of person I was, but so had I. I realised that in the face of severe criticism or verbal no entry signs I am spurred, more than ever before to continue and to achieve. 

For the next kilometre I gained all kinds of mental strength, derived from pure stubbornness alone.

The sky started to get lighter and I don’t know if that made it better or worse, because now we could see the challenge which awaited us. 

I wasn’t paying any more attention to how my body felt because my mind had taken control.

Eye Opener #2

We finally reached a place on the flat, uphill rock face which was the perfect spot to watch the sunrise. Sure, we hadn’t quite reached the peak as we had planned to, but it felt like enough for me. That was the problem right there. 

It was enough for me. 

At the time I didn’t see it as a problem. Yes, I could see the peak right above me and yes, I had just climbed about 3500m uphill to get here, but that extra last stretch was that extra push I just didn’t have. I had given everything I possibly had to the mountain already. I was exhausted and couldn’t get enough oxygen, my stomach was full of toxins and my head was spinning. I let my body take control again. 

I didn’t feel like I would fail by stopping right before the peak, in fact I felt quite content with that and felt some level of pride that I had even made it this far.

Realising I really had run out of both energy and will, my boyfriend then proceeded to essentially drag me up to the peak. When I finally reached the base of the peak I scrambled up as fast as I could on my hands and knees and burst into tears when I finally got there. I had never felt so proud of myself simply because I had written off the possibility of reaching that peak. I presumed I would never get there.


The emotion I felt was a combination of shock, happiness and vulnerability. 

Coming back down the mountain was even worse than going up. I’ve suffered with double knee injuries in the past and getting down was a very slow and tearful journey - I won’t bore you with the details.

Post Climb (and back by the sea)


After the mountain climb is when things started to change. I couldn’t stop thinking about my achievements and how, at one point on that mountain, I would have been content with not reaching the peak. What did this attitude say about my decisions and had I always been this way? 

It’s my mum’s voice echoing in my head,

 ‘Just do what you can and if you can’t do it, it doesn’t matter.' 

Then I became fixated on what would have happened if i hadn’t reached that peak? Would I have spent the rest of my life believing it’s ok to fall short every time? Not just ok, but expected. I realised that I applied this same 'logic' to pretty much everything. 

I once tried a 30 day fitness challenge and on day 26 I decided I couldn’t do anymore so I gave up. Most of my friends thought it was madness. How could I stop so close to the finish line. To me, I’d already come so far I felt like I had already won and never felt disappointed in not slogging out those last 4 days.

My lesson from Eye Opener #1:

It’s easy to tell yourself you can’t do something. It’s even easier to actually listen to yourself and give up. If someone else tells you the same, you might feel quite different. It’s a bit like when someone insults my family. Yeah, that’s definitely not ok. I, on the other hand, can insult them as often as I please.

I’ve been imagining my dad telling me that I can’t do something. ‘I don’t think you’ll manage that, Yas. It’s too much for you.’ As childish as it sounds. It really spurs me on like nothing else and also helps me to go further to find solutions.

My lesson from Eye Opener #2:

Since the mountain I’ve been pushing myself past my comfortable limits and it’s had a huge impact on my business. In the past, whenever I was close to expanding my business and pushing it that but further I thought that extra jump was never manageable.

Now I realise the difference between people I know who are successful and those who are exceptionally successful is one very small extra jump that not many of us dare to take.

In light of that climb, 
this year i'm aiming to push myself into that uncomfortable zone where the most successful succeed, because who knows what can happen when you just don’t stop.

Thanks for reading!

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Yasmine