Home

10%

Barrie McDowell

It's You VS You

By 29029 Everesting

March 10^th, 2023

29029 is all about you vs you.

That's an easy way of putting it, but what exactly you vs you looks like is different for everybody.

For me, figuring that part out took awhile...

I’m a part of a workout group - we’ve been doing things together for over 15 years! We are a crazy group - not in the negative sense - more in the way that we’re all of the age where it might be acceptable to slow down, but we choose not to.

Somebody in the group had seen an article in Outside Magazine about 29029 Everesting and shared it with us. That's the first I'd ever heard of the event.

It looked amazing! I felt immediately drawn to it.

“Who wants to do it?” I asked the group.

I was met with silence.

“Well, I’m doing it.”

Still silence, but it didn’t matter. 29029 sounded fun. Unique. Different.

I wanted to be a part of it.

I registered for Snowbasin in 2019. I followed Coach Brent’s training program to the letter. I felt very physically prepared when the day to climb finally approached.

I didn’t yet know what the Red Hat meant. I was just there to see what would happen. I didn’t even really set out to complete it. That might sound strange, but that was not my goal in 2019.

I didn’t have a goal.

I did 6 ascents on the first day before it started getting dark.

While I was physically prepared to climb, I am also deathly afraid of the dark. There was no way I was going to climb at night.

I loved my first day on the mountain, and had no reservations about stopping at nightfall.

I’m afraid of the dark. I think I’m done for the day. I don’t need to climb in the dark. I'm afraid of the dark.

I had dinner, then hit the recovery room. It was there that I bumped into Matt Burrell. He was ready to help - he rattled off a list of names of people he could set me up with so I didn’t have to climb alone at night.

That’s when my introverted self got in the way. I can’t be with people that I don’t know.

I was super insecure. What if I hold them up? What if they hold me up? I’m fine, I’ve done almost half. I’m going to bed.

With 6 ascents, I'd already done more that day than I'd done in any other single day throughout my entire life!

I politely declined Matt's offer of help, thanking him, and then walked to my tent.

I made sure to get up bright and early to catch the coach-led 6 am hike in the dark. I felt great to start off the second morning of ascents.

I finished 12 with a little time to spare, which is when I bumped into a previous acquaintance from the mountain.

“You’ve got time for one more!” he exclaimed. “Get back out there.”

That’s when I realized I had another fear.

I had a fear of failure.

I was scared I wouldn’t be able to make it back up in time to finish.

I was fine with only finishing 12 of 13.

In the moment, I was so proud of myself. I felt great. In that moment.

12 was fantastic I told myself.

Two days later it finally hit me.

I could have had a Red Hat.

I started asking myself a lot of questions.

Why didn't I ask more of myself? Why had I been content with 12 of 13? Why did I stop? Why didn't I keep pushing?

I could have accomplished something even bigger.

I wanted that Red Hat, which is how I found myself at Stratton in 2021.

In Snowbasin, I didn’t have a strategy. This time, I was paying attention. I was focused on staying ahead of the clock.

I went in for dinner as it started to get dark, which is when my old insecurities started to surface. I was nervous about finding someone to hike with. I couldn’t hike alone at night… but I also couldn't not hike at night.

I crossed paths with one of the coaches outside, and feeling like a child on the 3rd-grade playground, I approached her.

“Are you walking up? May I walk with you?”

For the life of me, I can’t remember which coach it was, but she said “Of course!” and hiked that entire ascent with me, finishing in the driving rain. She was my trail angel.

I had managed the time well, so after that night hike, I went to bed. There’d be enough time to finish in the morning.

Sure enough, the next day, I kept climbing and achieved the goal I'd set out to.

I remember that feeling so well to this day.

Setting the goal, getting outside my comfort zone - befriending somebody to help me walk up in the dark, and then achieving the goal - pulling on my Red Hat were all core memories that stick with me to this very day.

When Whistler was announced in 2022, I realized I wanted another Red Hat. A new venue sounded exciting, and I wondered what else I might learn about myself on another mountain.

I signed up.

Going into Whistler, I was dealing with a bit of a hip injury, but I still arrived at the start line eager to see what would unfold.

The first ascent was breathtaking. The lengthy ascent trail felt magical, winding through the lush, green forest. I took it all in for the first time, basking in the woods.

Ascent number 3 is when things started to take a turn for the worse. My body was struggling: I had a baker’s cyst on my knee that was blowing up, my hip was killing me, and my back was completely locking up.

It was hard to wade through what I was feeling and decide whether it was something to push through or something that required me to stop.

I could barely make 20 steps before I’d need to lean over and stretch. When I finally made the top, I was in tears. I went straight into the recovery room.

For the first time I can recall, I was doubting myself - a brand new feeling for me.

The pain was overwhelming, even after a lengthy recovery session, so I went to my bed, took a bunch of advil, and laid down flat to abate the pain.

I thought my event was done, but I didn’t feel as defeated as you’d think.

In the morning, I’m going to get up, and I’m going to go cheer on everybody else. It’s Whistler, it’s beautiful, I’m here… I’ll be the cheerleader, I’m fine with that!

When I woke up in the morning, the pain was much better. I could move again!

Hmm… Maybe I’ll hike one ascent to the top, and then be a cheerleader for everybody else.

I got my gear, put on my shoes, and started climbing.

When I got to the top, I was feeling good! I took the gondola back down, turned around, and started hiking back up again.

Again, as I crested the summit - expansive views of the towering peaks surrounding me - I felt good. I got on the gondola, went to the bottom, and started climbing again!

When all was said and done, I had done another 3 ascents, for a total of 6, before running out of time.

Again, 29029 had gifted me with an entirely new experience - another lesson learned.

Each mountain has taught me something different about myself.

At my first, in Snowbasin, I wondered why I hadn’t asked more of myself.

Why had I settled? Why was I so afraid to try to make the last ascent in time? I knew why: it was because it would require me to push outside of my comfort zone and might still fail.

I learned that it had never occurred to me to ask so much more of myself.

In Vermont, for my second 29029, I pushed outside of my comfort zone to ask for help. As an introvert, I reached out for a companion to help me climb at night, and it worked! I set out to pull on a Red Hat, and that’s exactly what I did!

I learned that when I push outside of my comfort zone for help, I can achieve my goals.

Finally, at 29029 Whistler, I left it all on the mountain on the first day.

I pushed myself to the absolute physical limit. I hurt myself to the point I was worried I was doing physical damage. And when things improved - when I felt better but knew I didn’t have enough time to finish all the ascents - I still kept climbing.

I learned what it was like to experience physical failure, but also learned how to manage that failure and re-adjust my goals.

Even after three mountains, I think of 29029 often.

It’s so interesting how each experience sits with me. Whistler was supposed to be my last, but I kept coming back to my experience on each mountain, and how much it helped me learn and grow…