Questions 1-3 are about the following story.

    The mountain was high and it was cold. Snow and ice covered everything and it was dangerous. I huddled in my tent as the storm tried to knock me back to the bottom.

    "You will never make it to the top," everyone said. "No woman has ever climbed this mountain and only a few people have done it by themselves."

    I was very confident that I would be the first woman to climb up to the top of Whitmore. I had prepared for months and spoken with everyone I could find that had done it before. I had bought all of the best equipment and trained for months before the climb.

    When I woke up the next morning, the wind had gotten quieter. I climbed out of my tent and looked out at the mountain. Everything was white and still. It was cold but my gloves and coat were very warm.

    "I will make it to the top today," I thought to myself.

    I started up the slope. My feet crunched the snow with every step I took. It was a beautiful day. The sun looked huge and I felt like I was on top of the world.

    I was climbing quickly. Soon I was going to reach the top. All of a sudden, I slipped. I started to slide down the mountain. I was going slowly at first but eventually I started to slide very fast. I went past my camp from the night before and I started to spin.

    After what felt like forever, I came to a stop. I slowly started to move, thinking that I must be hurt, but I was fine. It was a miracle. I got up and looked at the mountain. I had slid all the way to the bottom. I couldn't believe it. I was alive so I was very happy. I started back up the mountain.

    Three days later, I made it to the top. It was a beautiful day and I had a perfect view of everything around me. I thanked God for getting me to the top safely and then I went back down. It was the last mountain I ever climbed.