...and then I decided to climb my first mountain.

I was five years old when I first heard of Mount Kilimanjaro. My dad climbed it when he and my mom went to East Africa to visit my grandparents, who were missionaries at the time. Ever since then, it has always been a distant idea, almost a figment of my imagination. It was a place so far away from my life that even if I thought of the tallest peak on the continent, it seemed more like a dream than a real place.

Then, a few weeks ago, I heard from a family friend that some women were going to climb Kilimanjaro to celebrate one of their birthdays in late February 2014. I was so inexplicably excited about it that she asked me if I wanted to join them.

And I did. I really, really did.

Climbing Mt. Kilimanjaro is something I am now desperate to do, for reasons not entirely known to me. Much planning and training is involved, but everything I read says that it is a life-changing experience. So I am going to climb Kili with only a couple months left to train, no previous knowledge of mountain climbing, almost no experience with altitude (Abilene is only at 1700 ft.), and a pretty nasty (delicious) wine habit.

I am so excited to see how I fare as I trek toward the roof of Africa. Every struggle between now and then will be worth it, and every exercise will make me stronger for arguably the hardest thing I've ever done, mentally and physically. When I'm standing on top of that glorious mountain, holding a Texas flag that my dad is definitely going to want me to carry, those worries and work outs will be things of the past.

I can't wait to share my preparations for the trip and then the climb itself. So much of this thing called "life" is better when it's shared, and to be honest, I'm going to need some support during this next little bit as I reach for that summit. I hope you'll stay tuned, this could get interesting..