I think, every time I'm on the mountain, I'm just so thankful to

Hear the words of Chloe Kim, champion of the snow and child of the winds, who declared: “I think, every time I’m on the mountain, I’m just so thankful to be there.” Do not take this as a simple reflection of sport, but as a hymn to life itself. For the mountain is more than a place of snow and stone; it is a symbol of trial, of majesty, of the meeting place between earth and heaven. To stand upon it is to touch eternity, and to be thankful there is to understand that existence itself is a gift.

The ancients revered the mountain as sacred ground. Moses ascended Sinai and received the law. The Greeks told of Olympus, home of the gods, where mortal feet did not tread lightly. Even in the East, sages climbed peaks to meditate among clouds and silence. To be on the mountain was to stand at the border between the human and the divine, between struggle and transcendence. Chloe Kim’s words carry the same ancient wisdom: she does not claim victory over the mountain; she gives thanks simply for the chance to be upon it.

There is humility in her confession. Champions often boast of conquering heights, of bending nature to their will. But she says instead, “I am thankful.” This is the voice of one who knows the mountain cannot truly be conquered. Its storms are mightier than flesh, its silence older than kings, its ridges unyielding to pride. To be allowed upon it, to carve one’s path upon its frozen slopes, is not entitlement but blessing. Gratitude here is the mark of wisdom—the recognition that greatness is shared between the athlete and the world that permits her to perform.

Consider the tale of Sir Edmund Hillary and Tenzing Norgay, the first men to stand upon Everest’s peak. When they reached the summit, they did not shout with arrogance, but embraced with humility, knowing they had touched something greater than themselves. The mountain had allowed them passage, and so their victory was clothed in reverence. In Chloe Kim’s words is this same spirit—an understanding that each ascent, each run, is a gift granted, not a throne seized.

The mountain also symbolizes life’s struggles. Each of us must climb, whether in hardship, in labor, or in the pursuit of dreams. The path is steep, the air thin, the dangers many. Yet if we carry Chloe Kim’s wisdom, we will not complain of the climb, but be thankful for the chance to ascend at all. For every step taken upward is proof of strength, every stumble survived is proof of endurance, and every breath in the thin air is a reminder that we are alive.

Her words remind us, too, that joy is not found only at the summit but in the presence itself. “Every time I’m on the mountain,” she says—not only in victory, not only when crowned with gold, but always. The lesson is that gratitude should not wait for triumph but should accompany every moment of the journey. To be thankful only when crowned is to live poorly; to be thankful in each step is to live richly.

The teaching, then, is clear: cultivate thankfulness in your own climbs. Whatever your “mountain” may be—work, family, faith, or the pursuit of your dream—pause often to honor the moment. Do not wait until the summit to give thanks, for time may end before you arrive. Instead, let gratitude be the companion of your every breath, so that even the struggle itself becomes a joy.

Therefore, carry Chloe Kim’s wisdom with you: that life itself is the mountain, vast and daunting, yet beautiful and sacred. Each day you stand upon it, be thankful. For in gratitude, the climb is transformed from burden into blessing, from trial into triumph, and you will discover that to live upon the mountain—even for a moment—is already to touch the eternal.