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Beckie Kullberg

Possibility Thinking

By 29029 Everesting

May 3^rd, 2024

In 2020, when everybody’s life took a turn, I decided it was time for a change. I needed something to help process everything that was happening. I needed something to take me away from the stress.

I decided to take up hiking.

It was a way to not only check out from the stress but also to check in to myself.

Out of the blue, one night on the deck, I turned to my husband and said, “I need to hike Half Dome before I’m 80…”

The next day, a friend of mine had somehow managed to secure a permit for the hike, and asked if I wanted to join.

That was just the beginning…

After what I’d call a pretty normal non-athletic life, I was a hiker now.

Spending time hiking outdoors was like my church.

It was where I went to connect with myself. It was where I went to feel better.

The next year, I hiked Rim-to-Rim in the Grand Canyon.

The year after that - Cloud’s Rest in Yosemite.

Those were all bucket list hikes for sure, but I started to feel like I needed something a bit different - something a bit more epic and challenging.

What’s next?

While scrolling Instagram late one night, I stumbled upon 29029. Captivated by the stories of epic adventure and personal transformation on the slopes, I knew I’d found my next big challenge.

This looks like the perfect ‘what’s next’...

I talked to my friend, Debbie, and asked her if she wanted to join me. She did, and we registered for Sun Valley.

We arrived in Sun Valley on Tuesday, and the first thing I thought when I saw the mountain was, “Oh, sh**! We are going to hike that 15 times!”

Then I realized we couldn’t even see the entire mountain from the road. It kept going…

I didn’t sleep at all the night before. I was nervous and scared, so much so that I felt a little sick.

Deep down, I knew I could do it, but at the same time, I knew that life happens. So many things could happen that might mean I don’t achieve the summit.

I was mildly doubtful, yet confident at the same time.

I knew I’d give it everything I had, and that in most circumstances, that would be enough.

The first ascent started out pretty easy, but then I hit The Wall.

It was like walking backward and forwards at the same time. It was steep. It was slippery. It was so hard!

When I finally made it to the gondola - after a first ascent that was more challenging than expected - I broke down.

I’m here. I’m doing this. It’s hard. But it’s also pretty incredible.

Now that I knew what to expect, the second ascent felt a bit better. There were no surprises anymore. All that I had to do was climb.

The plan was to get to 9 ascents before bed, and things had been pretty smooth up until the end of my 5th.,

That’s when mountain thunderstorms rolled in, closing the mountain for over 2 hours!

I was stuck at the summit with dozens of other climbers, which turned into a blessing in disguise.

The energy and camaraderie were unlike anything I’d ever experienced. Nobody was voicing negativity about the situation. There was no complaining about how we weren’t able to get back out yet.

Everybody had a plan for the mountain, and everybody’s plan had just had a huge wrench thrown into it, yet instead of getting caught up in any negative talk, everybody was focused on how to adapt - how to achieve the summit given the new setbacks.

What’s the strategy now? How are we going to make this happen?

There was so much possibility thinking, and it felt so special to be a part of it.

My plan now?

I figured I might not be able to sleep anymore. Or if I did, it wouldn’t be as long as I was hoping.

No problem. This mountain is all about achieving my goal, not sticking to a plan that is no longer relevant.

There was a possibility I could still do it, it was just going to look different than I thought.

When the mountain finally reopened, I climbed my 6th ascent, skipping dinner as my stomach had started to turn circles.

Fueling with whatever snacks I could stomach, I climbed a slow 7th ascent as it started to get dark.

At some point during that climb, Coach Brent came up to me and asked how I was doing.

“I’m really struggling,” I told him as I started to cry. “I feel like I’m either going to throw up, or cry my eyes out…”

Brent looked at me and said, “Why not do both? You need to reset your body. Listen to it.”

I listened to his advice, gave myself a reset, and kept climbing.

Around 1 am, I finished my 9th ascent.

I was getting so tired that it felt dangerous to be climbing. Each step felt foreign to me, as I struggled for balance - my brain screaming for sleep.

I met my friend and tentmate at the base, and we both decided to head to the tents with a 6 am alarm set to make sure we had enough time during the second day to finish.

I barely slept, tossing and turning for most of the few hours.

At 4 am, I heard my friend rustling around.

She was getting changed and getting ready to go!

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“I calculated wrong. We need to start climbing now if we want enough time to finish!”

Maybe it was the lack of sleep, maybe it was the fatigue, or maybe it was just that possibility mindset continuing on from when the mountain was closed, but it didn’t even phase me.

“Okay, let’s do it,” I said as I hastily got myself ready.

As time was starting to run out on the final day, I was on my 12th ascent when I ran into Coach Brent again.

“Brent, I need a pep talk…”

“Okay. Peptalk,” he replied, smirking. “I can’t pep talk you if you don’t tell me what you need. Talk to me!”

“I’m committed to completing, but I’m tired, and I’m really dragging.”

He replied by talking about calories - how many I’d probably burned, and how I wasn’t eating enough to replenish them.

“When you get to the aid stations, you need to just grab whatever looks good to you. You need to eat.”

When I got to the next aid station, I stopped, looked at everything available, and asked myself what looked good.

The answer?

Things I almost never ate..

Potato chips and M&Ms.

Ascents 12 through 15 were fueled by chips and M&Ms. I might even go as far as saying they are what got me my Red Hat…

I had visualized those Red 29029 moments for months leading up to the event.

Colleen putting my Red Bib on me. Walking the Red Carpet. Pulling on the Red Hat…

When it actually happened, it felt surreal.

Donning my Red Bib, I was on my final climb!

Everything was still hard, but knowing it was the last push made it manageable.

When I finally saw the Red Carpet as I crested the summit, I broke down.

My friend, Debbie, had finished an hour before me, and she was waiting at the top.

It was such an electric experience, I hadn’t even realized it had started to rain.

I pulled on my Red Hat, took pictures, and branded the board one final time, alongside Debbie.

On Sunday morning, I took some time alone at breakfast, sitting on the deck, looking out at the mountain that I’d just spent 36 hours climbing. I felt a mix of pride over my accomplishment, but also discontent that I didn’t feel like I’d taken anything from my experience.

I stared out at the slope.

What do you want to tell me? What do you want to teach me?

Then it hit me.

Everytime I rode the gondola down, I had to make that first step off the gondola - that first step up the mountain. The lodge was always there - comfortable and out of the elements - as an option. But that option didn’t get me closer to the summit.

Life is like that. Every morning, I can choose to get up - to get off that metaphorical gondola - and do the things.

I always have the choice to do the things that might be uncomfortable, but are so rewarding and important.

I can do hard things.

When self-sabotage creeps in, and when I start to doubt myself, I can lean on my time at 29029 - I can look at my Red Hat and say “I can do that, so I can do anything.”