Nine years ago, I climbed Mount Ngauruhoe.

Presently an active stratovolcano sitting at an elevation of 2,291m, I awoke the day of my ascent unaware that by nightfall, I would have an excuse to sing, "...excuse me while I kiss the sky."

And you know how they say don't look down? Well, I looked up, down, left and right and there were so many times that I thought to myself, "not here, no way, no how."

Despite the relentless summer heat, loose tephra giving way underfoot, the slippery when wet 45-degree slope, and an unfortunate overdose of Larabars; I soaked in the sun's high-five from the summit's air-conditioned lounge. Or, I struggled to catch my breath and take a picture for my mom.

Regardless, I reached the peak that test of a day because I am that kind of person, I finish what I set out to do and I finish strong.

Conversely, since Mount Ngauruhoe is also Mount Doom from Tolkien's Lord of the Rings, then ipso facto - I conquered the mountain of fate and bestowed upon the chambers of fire faster than Frodo can tell his inconsiderately long story.