Standing on the side of the mountain as the sun rose overhead, I started to cry. Fellow travelers were making their way from the hut to the tiny cart that would carry them across the gorge to a gondola suspended between two opposing peaks. I watched them walk by. Kind of. Ten minutes earlier as we’d checked in for the first event of a very big day, I’d been forced to hand over my glasses. Everything was blurry, made worse by the tears that were now running freely down my face. The day was ...