I will attempt to climb Everest via the Southeast Ridge route without the use of bottled oxygen. My plan initially was to try to attempt Lhotse [immediately] after Everest, but I have now ruled that out because I don’t think it’s a realistic proposition, at least, not for me. I am, however, interested in trying to swim across the frigid Pumori Lake at about 5300 meters, near Everest Base Camp. Needless to say, the climb is the priority and something I would like to – and have to – focus all my energy on.

Naturally, I have many concerns related to climbing without supplemental oxygen. Pulmonary and cerebral edema as well as severe frostbite become much more serious risks for someone climbing without O2 than someone using the gas. If on my way up I feel like I absolutely must use oxygen to tackle those risks while still making the summit, I will use it: I plan to have a climbing Sherpa trailing me with bottled O2 for this purpose. Thus, I will rely on plenty of emergency oxygen, a dedicated climbing assistant and common sense to keep safe on my way up. My biggest worry is not going up – when I can still stop and return to the relative safety of a lower camp quickly enough – it’s exhaustion on descent. I know from my last year’s experience on the North Side that it can be deadly; it probably would have been for me, if I wasn’t using supplemental oxygen. The top of the world is one of the most dangerous places I can imagine, where assistance is impossible; to get there and have no strength to get down on your own past the Death Zone above 8000 meters is stay there for good. How will I tackle this risk? By trying to resist the summit fever and just being honest with myself about how far I can go – and whether I can come back – without oxygen.

To me Everest or, as I prefer to call her, Chomolungma, is more than a mountain: it is something that reshaped both my body and my character, something that, I feel, made me a better version of myself. The challenge of climbing to the top of the world, the toughest one I had taken up, exposed my every weakness, and I have tried, during and after the 2012 expedition, to work on myself. By returning to Chomolungma, I want to ‘thank’ Mother-Goddess of the World for teaching me so many invaluable lessons in what counts and what doesn’t. It is not, in fact, important for me to climb without oxygen; rather, it is something I would like to do as a way of learning even more about myself from the best of teachers.

Very tough. The summit push was especially hard because I was suffering from a chest infection and climbing with a fever. I made it to the top, but the descent was extremely unpleasant: my body kept trying to go to sleep every time I would sit down to rest and cough; I could feel it shutting down, and there was nothing I could do about it. Getting back down to Camp 3 on summit day felt like the most amazing accomplishment.

Mentally how are you preparing?

By being punched in the face, quite literally. I chose Muay Thai as a means of training for this expedition because I knew it would push me way out of my comfort zone every day. I am very shy, clumsy, and I absolutely hate my physique: well, I have to wear short shorts as, surrounded by some of the best Thai boxers out there, I perform my complete-beginner-style punches and kicks. I never used to run because of the pain several old injuries cause me – I now run 10-12km every morning as it is part of the training. However, the most difficult aspect of Muay Thai to come to terms with is that it is a contact sport: you hit people and they hit you back. I didn’t think I would be able to do that, but doing it I am, and actually enjoying myself in the process. Muay Thai is teaching me humility and reminding me about my weaknesses and limitations, which, I hope, will keep that summit fever in check.

What lessons has mountaineering taught you that you apply to other area’s of your life?

I think, the most important lesson I have learnt in high-altitude mountaineering is to just keep getting up no matter what. Your mind could be telling you that you can’t; your body could be numb with exhaustion, but if you want to see the people who you love, sleep in a warm bed or go swimming in the sea ever again, you have to keep going – or crawling, if that’s what it takes. This is extreme, of course, but this particular mountaineering lesson helps me overcome all kinds of small everyday weaknesses, failings and embarrassments.   Another important lesson I learnt by watching people in high mountains is that we are really quite weak, even the toughest-looking ones of us; and that it’s great to help each other when we have the strength to.   Mountaineering has also taught me humility and shown me that there are some things out there that cannot be done without putting one’s own or others’ lives at risk.

I think, only one member of my family, my mother, truly understands my love of mountaineering. Her first husband died climbing, so, naturally, she is very concerned about me. Yet, she also respects this passion that defines a sizable part of me. She is very brave and supportive.

The rest of my family have little interest in or understanding of high-altitude mountaineering. Being as it is to them ‘but another one of Mila’s unreasonable pursuits’, it’s not something we talk about much when we meet. Naturally, they still care and worry about me while I’m climbing, but not as much as they would have, perhaps, if they knew exactly what I was doing – I’m glad they don’t.

How can people follow your progress on Everest this year?