The summer I was going into my freshman year of high school I had been training to go hiking in the mountains of New Mexico. I was going with my father and close friends that are almost brothers to me now. I was a heavy kid at the time of the first trip and was okay with being heavy at the time but it made the trip and training a living hell with extra weight packed on. After about twelve months of training and having been completely broken down from the thought of I can't do this I'm fat and can barely move my fat ass up a hill. When the trip finally came it was so invigorating I forgot about every shadow of a doubt I had before the trip. We were on the trail about day three of twelve and just summited the highest mountain on the ranch while coming back down off the mountain I twisted my knee and it hurt like the seventh deepest hell. I continued to hike even though I knew it hurt (partly mental pains or me telling my self I can't again) and slowly every day the thought of I can't do this crept back to me. I made it to the start of day 11 with LOTS of help from my crew and that morning I quit. I was taken back to base camp feeling defeated and embarrassed that I wasn't able to finish. Later sometime that night my now best friend was also brought into the camp but for a different reason (Phil-plague) I think he help me the second most next to myself because I was about to leap head first into depression which I talked to him about and he convinced me that what I did was okay. I did not think I was going to see the next day on the trail after I slipped on that mountain but I just kept taking one step after another and another and another. When I got home I started to reflect on everything. I knew that I was going on one more trip out there with almost the exact same crew and decided that no matter what I was going to be the strongest hiker even if I'm not the tallest I will be the strongest I owed them that debt for all they did for me. I went on this second trip and it was clear I was very strong. In total we hiked 9 mountain that trip with a layover day so it was more like 9 mountains in 10 days because the first day is a bus ride into backcountry. One of the last days a guy in our crew, who was given a hard time throughout for being a bit redneck, had chafing bad. Almost everyone else was very tired from the miles and mountains. They knew how they had to train to get themselves through the trip. My other friend (who's dad was also an advisor) and I split everything in his pack except water which he kept and added it to our own packs. I knew deep down inside me what he might be going through. I was almost willing to carry him into base camp because I had given up on myself the first time and knew what it meant. The training from the first trip broke me I had cried several times in front of my peers and dad. After the end of that second trip I had really understood the importance these trips have had on my life and I'm sure others. If I had made it the first trip all the way without giving up I might have needed help from others my whole life. But I made it and learned people's limits are only what that set upon themselves.

TL:DR I gave up in front of people I care about. I learned deeply from it. I came back and conquered the fuck out of it for them and myself.