Crunch Crunch Crunch. My ice pick penetrates into the frigid crystals of ice. I can feel my breath against the ski mask I had on. I was hanging off a sheer ice cliff with nothing to hang on to but my small ice picks clinging onto the side. My spiked shoes dig into the ice under my feet. All the muscles in my leg scream as I straighten my leg and move my ice pick up a fraction of an inch. My fingers are so cold I’m not even sure I have them anymore. Looking up at the mountain looming above me I don't think I can go any longer. I just want to let go and fall into the endless abyss that lays below me. My breaths start to quicken as I start pulling my ice pick out and putting it back in just inches further each time. My body starts to give way and it seems like my muscles are screaming. An alarm is going off in my head louder than any siren I had ever heard. The last few feet seem to drag by as I pull myself up onto the top of the cliff using the last bit of my strength. I lay there on the top of the mountain and exhaustion seems to wrap me in a blanket that is too heavy to lift off. Iuse the rest of my strength to lift my head and see my friend Jonathan's smiling face. “Get up bro we got to figure out how to get down.”