Last weekend, I played a cyber-video joust game with some of the founding team of Twitter.

I sat around a fire with the editor of Wired, and one of the creators of Obamas campaign. I cried at lectures and had pancakes with some Irish boys, a beer bot and a founder of Upcoming.

And that weekend was a repeat of the weekend before, and the one before, and this new strange world of tech startups. Meetings all day, alone on my computer all night, conferences all weekend. Surrounded by the wealthy, wondering if I can make rent this month, surviving off peanut butter.

This weekend, I went for a hike.

This used to be me.

My every weekend, my every day off was playing in the wilderness. And now - there have barely been two days this past year that I allowed myself such soul-enriching freedom.

There, in the distance, I saw the snow-covered peaks of several mountains - some of which I summited in years prior, some which I thought I’d summit this year. I stare across the majestic gorge at the mountain I know I will partially climb and ski down tomorrow.

I sit on the ledge of a cliff and stare deep into an abyss, recalling a time, over a decade ago, where plunging my body into that abyss would have been a strong temptation. Chills run up my spine. Not from the wind. Did I really have thoughts like that once? Did I, as a teenager, almost prevent myself from experiencing this splendid life? That girl who filled those journals with sadness and pain - was that person actually me? Is that, too, who I used to be?

I look down into that abyss; Look up at the mountain I will climb tomorrow. I have come quite a long way.