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Bri Bauerle

Stronger Than the Fall

By 29029 Everesting

May 23^rd, 2025

The boulder shifted beneath my feet, and in an instant, I was falling…

Fifteen feet down, crashing through rock, grasping at anything to slow the slide, all I could think was: Is this it?

When I finally stopped sliding, I called 911 and waited for a helicopter rescue.

I didn’t realize it yet, but I wasn’t done climbing mountains.

That’s why a month later, still recovering from surgery, I found myself clicking onto the 29029 website.

I still want to do this. I need something to prove I’m still here. I need something to prove that I’m still capable.

That’s how Mont-Tremblant became my 29029 mountain.

I first heard about 29029 a little over three years ago.

I loved to hike.

I loved to trail run.

But I was ready for something different... something more.

2024 will be my year. I’m going to climb a 29029 mountain.

I was a runner all throughout high school. Then, like the common story, in my twenties, I stopped running.

I was a stay-at-home mom for a while when I finally got back into running.

The more I ran, the more I realized how much I needed it.

Running gave me confidence. It gave me peace. It reminded me I was a person, not just a mom or a wife.

Basically, running was my therapy.

Then my accident happened…

In 2023, I’d set a goal: summit as many 10,000-foot peaks near my home in Salt Lake City as I could.

One afternoon in the fall of 2023, I wasn’t far from home - maybe twenty minutes - when I hit a boulder field along a ridgeline.

The views were stunning, but my eyes stayed on the rocks, carefully stepping from one to another to keep my footing.

Suddenly, I felt something shifting under my foot.

And then…

Nothing.

The boulder had given way, and I fell with it, sliding about fifteen feet down the slope.

I grasped at the rocks as I fell, slicing my hand badly.

When I finally stopped, the rocks didn’t. A few sizeable boulders ricocheted down and slammed into me.

When the crashing and banging finally stopped, I took note of my injuries.

I was in shock, and it didn’t look good.

Miraculously, my phone had survived the fall.

And even more miraculously, it had service.

I called 911 and waited.

For hours, I lay there wondering… Is this where it ends?

Finally, the rescue helicopter was there, airlifting me off the mountain.

The next day, I was in surgery.

Three torn tendons, four fractures, severe trauma to my femur… the recovery was going to be long.

But even then, something in me whispered: You’re not done…

So when 29029 registration opened just a month later, I signed up for Mont-Tremblant.

I was going to prove to myself that not only is there a reason I’m still here, but also that an accident can’t stop me from climbing mountains.

I was going to Mont-Tremblant to climb.

There was a different energy in the air at the start, much different than anything I was used to from the running events I’d done in the past.

You don’t interact with participants much at other events. You show up on your own, run the race on your own, and you go home on your own.

Not at 29029.

We not only swapped training stories, but we swapped life stories. The community conversations got deep.

And just like that, the air horn sounded.

We were climbing.

The climb was hard and deceptive: there were at least three false summits!

But as the day continued on, I kept climbing.

Then the sun started to set, and I realized I still had some PTSD from my hiking accident.

Even with the headlamp, I couldn’t see much of where I was going.

I didn’t like the feeling.

I didn’t like feeling out of control.

I was climbing alone, and stuck in my head, so as soon as I finished, I left the mountain and went straight to bed.

I didn’t want to be out in the dark anymore.

It’s not like stopping overnight was going to keep me from everesting, but I couldn’t help but feel a bit disappointed.

It’s easy to let your mind take over when you’re tired, cold, and hungry.

Through the fatigue, I’d let old fears come flying back.

But maybe… maybe that was the moment I needed to give myself grace.

Maybe I didn’t need to climb through the night.

Maybe all I needed to do was finish.

Maybe all I needed to do was prove that I could still climb mountains.

This isn’t about how fast I can finish, it’s just about finishing.

Saturday, I knocked off my final ascents.

Finally, after passing by each false summit where I swore the Red Carpet should have been, I finally made it to the true top.

And then I cried.

It was a culmination of so many hard things in my journey. Everything I’d worked through - fear, pain, self-doubt - came flooding out.

After my accident, it would have been easy to say, I’m done. I shouldn’t do this. It’s too dangerous.

But I didn’t give in.

And now, I had a Red Hat to prove it.

When I look at my Red Hat now, I feel pride.

I’ve done plenty of races in my life, usually about personal bests.

Faster. Further. Harder.

But this Red Hat symbolizes something different.

It wasn’t about speed.

It wasn’t about rankings.

It was about proving to myself that I’m still strong, and that I don’t need a finishing time to measure it.

That Red Hat also carries something else.

A reminder.

A reminder to slow down.

A reminder to stop counting down the hours and start being fully present for each moment along the way.

Looking back at Mont-Tremblant, I realize now I wasn’t just climbing towards the summit - I was climbing towards a new way of living.

That’s my goal now: more dedicated presence.

And I’ll be back on the mountains and trails to keep working towards it…

One fully present step at a time.

At 29029 Jackson Hole.

At TRAIL Park City.

Wherever the next climb takes me.

And through all of it, I hope I'm showing my kids that fear doesn't get to make the rules.

Even when life knocks you down, you can get back up... and keep climbing.

Footnotes

Voice: Bri Bauerle. Writing: Evan Wishloff. Photos: Megan Dunn, Brendan Ladd, Evan Wishloff

Button Label

FootNotes

Voice: Bri Bauerle. Writing: Evan Wishloff. Photos: Megan Dunn, Brendan Ladd, Evan Wishloff

Wei-Li Shao

Bri Bauerle

Stronger Than the Fall

FootNotes

The Edge

Do One More

No Emotion, Just Motion

Brian Goldstein

The Foundation for the Summit

Tom Turcich