There was once a mountain climber named Elara who had trained for years to summit the highest peak in her homeland — a jagged, snow-capped giant known as The Crown of the Sky. Many had tried before her. Few had returned. But Elara was determined.
She began her ascent with strength and confidence. The early days were filled with crisp air, breathtaking views, and the steady rhythm of her boots crunching against the snow. But as she climbed higher, the air thinned, the winds howled louder, and the path grew treacherous.
On the seventh day, a storm rolled in. Icy needles of wind lashed her face. Her legs trembled with exhaustion. Her fingers, numb and raw, could barely grip her tools. She collapsed behind a ridge, sobbing into the snow, whispering, “I can’t go on.”
But then she remembered something her mother once told her — a story from the day Elara was born.
“You were almost here,” her mother had said, “but I was in so much pain I screamed that I couldn’t do it. The nurse smiled and said, ‘That means you’re almost there. One more push.’ And then, you arrived.”
Elara looked up at the summit, now barely visible through the storm. Her body was broken, but her spirit sparked. If I feel like I can’t go on, she thought, maybe that means I’m almost there.
With one final surge of will, she rose. Step by agonizing step, she climbed. And just as the sun broke through the clouds, she reached the peak. The world stretched out below her, endless and golden.
She had made it — not because she never doubted, but because she didn’t let the doubt stop her.
Moral: Just like in childbirth, the moment of greatest pain often comes right before the moment of greatest triumph. When you feel like you can’t go on, it might just mean you’re one push away from your victory.