When I was maybe 19, I attempted my first snow summit that I had not prepared for in the slightest on Mount Baldy (known as the 3rd deadliest snow hike in the US). I ended up glissading off the trail by 20' and the only reason I didn't shoot off the side of the mountain to my death was because I tarzan'd my ass straight into a huge tree, cracking 4 of my ribs on impact. I've done desert SAR and am very familiar with deserts. I can survive In 120F. It took several hours, a lot of tears, sweat, swearing, bargaining with God, and pure hatred and spite for the snow to crawl my way back to the trail. That was the only time I had ever considered SAR. There were times that I really believed I would die on that slope. There were times that I wanted to just give up and die on the slope. When I finally made it back to the trail, I was exactly like you. I half ran half fell all the way back down to the parking lot. I admittedly usually am the type of person that needs to come close to death several times before I decide that something isn't for me, but that one fucking hike has kept me on flat ground since. Hiking is an amazing way to become humbled very quickly. I was a cocky, overly confident teenager who thought mother nature wouldn't fuck my shit right up. Never again.