"Got off the mountain on the 3rd. Mark and Carlos reached the summit on the 2nd around 10a.m. I got the same old stomach shit again at Camp 2, and had to turn around. Mark came half way to Camp 1 with me, then he went up to Camp 3 with the rest.
I'm utterly bummed that I didn't even get to give it my best; it's like going to the World Championships and not get to race. The ultimate frustration. But I'm psyched that Mark got the summit. He really deserved it. He has worked so much harder to make this happen than the rest of us put together.
We were supposed to get up to Camp 1 tomorrow again, but I'm sick still. Burping rotten eggs. Rather unpleasant, if I may say so. I'm starting to think that it's the same bug that keeps reappearing. It's too similar each time, and the intervals are too frequent for it to be a new bug every time. So I have spent yet another day in tent, reading and sleeping. Currently I'm reading Lance Armstrong's book. It's pretty good, a real easy read. Not that athletes usually write Nobel material. I find it pretty hard to like him as a person though. He is, without a doubt, one of the most amazing athletes ever to walk the face of earth, but he doesn't strike me as the nicest and most considerate person. Maybe I shouldn't diss Armstrong just yet. Maybe he is something as unusual as an honest person. How about that!
I can't wait to get back home! I am utterly and completely sick of being exhausted all the time, puking my guts out on a regular basis, of simply being ill! I am craving melted cheese. And milk. Real milk. From a cow. With a white belly. A cow that says 'Mooooo!'"
- Carina Ostberg, 5 October