The mountain of your life |Elsa Ávila | TEDxCuauhtémocMujeres

Throughout her life, Elsa Ávila has faced several mountains in a literal and figurative sense. She tells us about the challenges she has faced and suggests how we can face them.

Climber, business owner, speaker, and mother of two, Elsa Ávila was the first Latin-American woman to climb Mount Everest.

This talk was given at a TEDx event using the TED conference format but independently organized by a local community. Learn more at http://ted.com/tedx

Good evening.

This mic is working!

What makes a climber climb mountains?

Passion.

I started out climbing mountains,
mountains made of rock,

and I still remember the first time
I put my fingers and feet

on the mountain face and the grips,
and I felt like it was poetry in motion.

From that moment on, I was immersed
in a passionate adventure,

and, of course,
I ran into my first obstacles.

The first one was my mum saying:
'You're not going.'

(Laughter)

Getting her permission was very difficult,

but I kept climbing
and going to the mountains,

and I realised that I had her support
because she had no other choice.

Later, I needed that support
and much more intensely

when my dream took me
to the other side of the planet

to the Himalayas,
the world's highest mountains,

Going after ideas,

when few people trusted me
or when many people didn't agree,

gave me inspiration.

Because if I had an idea,
I was sure it was possible.

After two expeditions to the Himalayas,

a golden opportunity
finally presented itself.

This was to join a women's expedition

to try to climb a mountain
over 8,000 metres high in Tibet.

So there I was.

Before I went, a lot of questions came up,

most of them repeated over and over.

'Hey, you're a woman. Why don't you
do something that's really for women?

That's a man's sport.'

Well, the fact I'm female
doesn't stop me carrying heavy rucksacks

or fixing a rope or sharpening
my crampons and ice axe.

In fact, my gender
never led to any problems

when it came to other climbers
allowing me to join their teams.

Another question I was asked
time and time again:

'That's a really expensive sport.

Since it's not an Olympic sport
and the government won't give you help,

how will you manage?'

How many activities aren't Olympic sports?

I had to work extremely hard,
but indeed it was possible.

Another: 'How do you think you'll manage
to climb to heights of 8,000 metres?

The highest mountain in Mexico
doesn't even reach 6,000.

How will you know if you can do it?'

Well, I had to find out and keep going.

After the invitation to Tibet
from the women's group,

I woke up one morning
to the unwelcome news

that one of the barrels
containing the equipment had been stolen -

and that the one which had been stolen
was mine, and that my boots were missing.

How could I dream of climbing
the mountain without boots?

However, I kept going.
I walked and arrived to the base camp.

There I found an Italian expedition
that was on their way back,

and one of them, who was small
like me but had bigger feet,

sold me their boots.

After many pairs of socks,
I managed to get them to fit,

and I was also lent equipment
because I was missing a few things.

We finally started the job
of setting up camps on the mountain

and getting our bodies used
to the lack of oxygen.

As I was doing this job,
I realised that the initial plan

to go with the women's team
wasn't working for various reasons.

Then I thought: 'This is my opportunity,
I can't lose it. What am I going to do?

I'll stick with the ones
who are climbing.'

So I kept climbing with them,

and then came the moment
we'd all been waiting for:

our attempt to get to the summit.

We set off early in the morning that day,

and after sunrise,

I saw some other rocky peaks
to the side of the mountain,

and I made them my goal.

I said: 'I need to get there.'

After much effort, I did get there,

and I sat down to breathe the oxygen.

I realised I'd already climbed a long way

because there were mountains
and lots of clouds below.

We kept going, and as I went further,

the distance between rest stops
got shorter and shorter -

until I arrived at 8,000 metres,

the height at which commerical planes fly.

Suddenly the strategy needed to change.

My strategy had to be to go
a few steps at a time.

After 20 steps I would lean
against something,

and the reward was a short rest to take in
some of the little oxygen that was left.

As I got higher and higher,
those 20-step segments

got closer and closer
to being five-step segments.

Finally, there wasn't
any mountain left to climb.

I was at the top, and that moment
made all those questions,

questions based on uncertainty,
turn into great certainty.

People wanted to sow doubts,

but being on that peak
for me was a certainty.

And being the first Latin-American woman
to climb a mountain over 8,000 metres,

and breaking that kind
of barrier is so important for me.

That's when you say:
'Yes, it's possible.'

Being up there made me realise -

that all the mountains I was seeing,

and I translated all of the mountains
I saw into climbing opportunities,

are just waiting for daring climbers.

Then I went off to Patagonia,
the most southerly point in South America.

The altitude wasn't the difficult part;

it was the technical difficulty
and, above all, the weather conditions.

Winds of over 100 km/h.

You can't put a tent up;
it would be blown away by the wind.

Your strategy needs to change.

You can carve out a cave in the ice
and stay there until the time is right.

That's how I gave myself a chance
of getting to the Aguja Poincenot,

which no woman had ever climbed.

That was also very satisfying.

An experience I want
to quickly share with you is my climb

of the world's highest mountain.

I didn't get to the summit
on the first attempt. It took me three.

On the first one, I got to 8,750 metres,

98 metres from the summit.

You might wonder: 'Why didn't you
keep going? You only had 98 metres left!'

I had early signs of brain swelling;
if I'd continued, it would have worsened.

If it had worsened,
I'd have died, and if I'd died,

I wouldn't be here
to tell you all about it!

(Laughter)

In that moment I learned
that I wanted to be a living story,

not a dead statistic:
statistics are very simple.

With that in mind, I went back
to the mountain 10 years later.

At that time I was a mother,
so I had a great responsibility.

Starting back in my training days, I kept
saying to myself: 'This time I'm winning.'

With that conviction,
I went to the mountain,

and after two months away from my country,

I arrived at the world's highest summit.

(Applause)

What happens when mountains
you haven't chosen come into your life?

One of these unchosen mountains
came to my house,

and the route was the stairs
between two floors.

I started climbing them but couldn't.

I had to rest my head on the handrail,

and unlike that experience I shared
of my first 8,000-metre climb,

when I took some air and recuperated,
this time I didn't recuperate.

It started with some intense palpitations
that I couldn't control.

Eventually I reached the top,
and then I fainted.

When I regained consciousness,
I was met by my children's faces.

They were saying: 'Mum, what's happening
to you? You used to climb mountains!'

My daughter said to me later: 'Mum,
I'm scared. If you die, what about us?'

Right then I had to transform

both my children's fear and my own
into positive actions.

I said to them: 'I'm going to die,
just like everyone else but not now,

so let's go find
the best doctor out there.'

They gave me a pacemaker and said:
'You'll be okay with this pacemaker.'

I was very happy, and I dropped my kids
off at school like any other day.

Then I went out running
as I'd often done after dropping them,

and I'd hardly been running two minutes
when I felt my right arm go numb.

I started shaking it and said:
'What was my running posture?'

I live in a town where everything
is close together.

I looked at my arm and thought:
'What's going on with my arm?'

I felt my hand start to stiffen,

everything started going white,

I began to lose my hearing,

and I was getting dizzy.

I was going to faint.

I looked for a place
to recharge and not hurt myself.

While I was there, the right half
of my body started to paralyse.

I thought: 'No, this can't be,'
and something incredible happened.

My brain divided into two halves.

One half said to the other:
'Are you giving me a blood clot?'

I started feeling my face drooping,

and the other half said: 'Well, I already
have, at least make yourself pretty.'

I yanked on my face, and I think
that funny moment, that moment of opening,

made the veins in my brain open

and made the small coagulation
I'd had go away,

and the ischemia too -
that's its technical name.

Finally, one half of my brain
said to the other:

'Hey, imagine what would have happened.' -

this was the victim side, right? -

'You and your kids
would live by giving lectures.'

And the other half said:

'It didn't, so move forward,
keep going, and let's get a move on.

Even if you have to drag yourself,
you're doing it.'

And that's what I did.

Since then, I've had four strokes.

During one of them, feeling all my senses
intensify was incredible.

When the doctor arrived
and asked for my hand,

I felt every ridge
of my fingertips on his skin.

My sense of smell was incredible.

I could hear from a distance
the conversations people were having.

That was when I realised

that this was like
a call for me to wake up.

It's an awakening in my life,
and I'm aware of my condition.

I know it's there, but nevertheless,
how do I want to live my life?

Suffering? Or with intensity, full of joy?

How to let go of the past?
How to live the mountain of life?

Disconnecting from the past meant

putting an end to an image the press
had taken upon themselves to create,

an image of a superwoman who could
do anything with the will she had.

That mountain made me realise
that I can do things,

but that I also want to open my heart.

I want to feel, I want to be vulnerable,
I want to be pampered.

For me, living intensely means
surrendering every single moment.

Waking up, being aware
that I'm breathing, and then sharing that,

because then I feel like I'm being hugged,

and I feel loved,
and I want to feel that forever -

sharing that love
with the people around me.

So how do you want to live your life?

My dream is that all the climbers in life,

like you, dare to be a living story,

not a dead statistic.

I hope you all live day after day
with passion, at your peak.

Thank you.

(Applause)