I remember getting sick on a backpacking trip in the mountains of Colorado. We were several days into the trip—five or six—and camped at the base of Mount Harvard (proudly one of the tallest in the continental US). We had hit the trail pretty hard that day. I started feeling sick around mile 11, as we pushed passed the planned stopping point so we could peak the next day without packs. I remember hoping that it was a bug of some sort rather than altitude sickness. I didn’t want to get sick from a change in height. That’s pathetic, right? And anyway, I drank plenty of water. Practically too much water, I felt.

I was glad the next morning when I woke up and my spirits had returned. Indeed the height had gotten the better of me.

I enjoy how self-mutilating pride can be. Sometimes hubris points out or even hopes for faults, troubles, weaknesses—negative things in general—in view of other people so that they will know the difficulties you must overcome. It’s a backward sort of self-glorification.

But I suppose perseverance appears as a virtue.

And success despite hurdles (however tawdry those hurdles be) is something to be imitated, the mark of a giant.

Hubris—have you no shame?