I remember the day exactly, when my obsession started. It was summer 2017 and I was spending my holidays working as a volunteer on a farm on the shores of Loch Lomond. Sundays were usually the days off and since all the bigger cities were far, it only seemed logical to explore the nature around. We woke up in the early morning with only one vision – to climb Ben Nevis.

There are not many greater sights than watching the sun rise over the calm waves of the Loch which are created by the speedboat you’re traveling in. For a moment, we’ve even forgotten about the terrible cold wind that was slapping our faces. The calendar might have said that it’s the 19th of July, but it felt like a chilly November.

I should probably mention that even though I really enjoyed spending time in nature, I dreaded the mountains at this time of my life. I saw absolutely no point in it. I hated climbing up hills, I hated being out of air, I hated the pain and soreness it caused to my body the day after. This day however, would change it all.

Don’t ge me wrong, I still struggled immensely. I couldn’t catch my breath, my feet were so full of blisters that they could barely hold me up and my heartbeat was so fast and loud that I swear I could hear it. It actually felt like dying. Yet, at the same time, I never felt more alive.

Since then, I crave moments like this. Mountains have become my hobby, my home, my ultimate obsession that I can never get enough of. Later on, I would also discover trail running, the final missing piece that would bring my mind and my body to a complete and utter exhaustion, yet ultimate happiness.

“Find what you love and let it kill you” says one famous qoute by Kinky Friedman. And that’s exactly what I did.