Charlie Engle

Running Saved My Life

By 29029 Everesting

November 15^th, 2019

Where the magic happens

When I first heard of 29029, I was jealous! I knew immediately that I wanted to do one of the events. I got a sense that it would be a tough thing, both physically and mentally. Part of the attraction was that I knew it would bring a different crowd. Not the same group of people that you see at Ultra Marathons. The event is certainly attractive for a handful of people with experience in climbing and doing longer races. But, instinctively, I knew it would also bring a lot of people that haven't had that kind of experience before.

What I didn't count on were the incredible personalities that would be in attendance. Once I stepped onto Stratton Mountain, I realized how many meaningful relationships I'd make. I had 30 deep conversations on the mountain. Within minutes of meeting someone, and hiking with them, I learned, who they were, why they were there, and what they hoped to get out of the experience. It's a community of like-minded individuals that I've not seen anywhere else in my life. You don't meet somebody in a coffee shop and have the conversations that I did while climbing. It's raw, and it scrapes away all the crap of daily life.

I have always loved things that are straight forward, hard. There's no way to escape being on your feet for such an extended period. To get to 29,029 feet, you're going to have to go through some hard times, and that's where the magic happens. It breaks down layers, it breaks down barriers, and it allows people to leave as a changed human being. I felt that change on the Sunday following the event. And on Monday on the drive home, and it hasn't stopped there, this is an event that changes people forever.

I'm an Addict

As long as I'm not drinking or doing drugs, my addict is a perfect companion to help me be successful. It gives me drive and a healthy obsession to get the best out of myself. My addictive nature makes me good at the things I set my mind to.

One of the beautiful things about being so public with my struggles, is that it allows other people to open up. To be honest and raw in a way that's hard to find. I am privileged to share my story and take people along on the rollercoaster journey that has been my life. It's not my goal to glorify my addiction or the turmoil I put my friends and family through. I want to share my story in a way that reaches people and allows them to make positive changes in their own lives.

As happens for many people, my drinking started in college. I was the guy who could drink more than anyone else, and I wore that as a badge of honor. It gave me a lot of cred in my fraternity, and it helped me fit in. The culture of binge drinking is pretty standard at that age. Yet, unlike my friends who would realize when it was time to call it a night, I did not know when enough was enough. Looking back, as a fourth-generation addict, there was no escaping this for me.

As any self-respecting addict will tell you, there's a lot of lows on the way to the bottom. I would wake up and find myself in a crack house or in a stranger's bedroom or in another compromising situation. Doing something about it meant going home, drinking some water, and going for a run. I would try to get healthy. After a week, I would feel amazing. I was doing so many drugs and drinking so much that a week of clean living would make me feel invincible. I would stay sober for a few months at a time, but I would relapse after a while, and things would go back to the way they were. I sought treatment when I was 26, and that lasted about six months. I then spent the next two years smoking crack and poisoning myself.

The birth of my first son is what changed things for me. You may be reading this and saying, 'well done, you finally took some responsibility in your life.' But you know, it wasn't that simple. When he was born, I held him and felt this incredible love and affection. It was something that I had never experienced before. As an addict, I didn't feel capable of or entitled to that love. I thought that this would be the change that I needed, and it worked for a little while.

Soon after, I found myself in the worst part of town, outside a dumpy motel. I watched on as the police searched through my car. Bullet holes littered the side of the car from a drug deal gone wrong. In one of the fuzziest moments in my life, I had a clear and life-changing thought. I realized that my son wasn't going to save me, nobody was going to save me.

I had to save myself.

Running saved my life

That night I went to an AA meeting. And for the first time, I went there with meaning in my heart. The next morning I put on my shoes and went for a very short, very painful run. I could barely make it around the block. At that moment, I committed to two things:

1. Going to a meeting and

2. Running.

Every single day.

I did that for 3 straight years.

Running saved my life. Then it gave me a life.

Often people will ask me, 'didn't you transfer one addiction for another.' Certainly, but at the time, I didn't think of that as a compliment. In those first three years, I ran like a madman, not only did I run every day, I also ran 30 marathons. Every time I went out, be it for training or a race, I ran as hard as I could. I was punishing myself and in some regard, paying a toll on my past behavior. I believed that I could pound that guy out of me, and my addiction would no longer be there. It took those three years to understand that it is in my nature. And if I point my nature in a positive direction, then that's a powerful force.

I realized that other addicts and I don't need to change. Behaviors need to change, triggers need to change. The worst of me became the best of me. Addiction is often about being invisible and having no feelings and disappearing. And yet, here I stand, present, in all my pain and discomfort. Ready and willing to feel everything.

Then it gave me a life

Over time my running progressed, from marathons to 50km races, to 100 milers. I wanted to see how far I could go. During a race in the Amazon Jungle, someone asked if anyone had ever run across the Sahara Desert. It piqued my interest, and after some research, I discovered that no one had ever done it before. So I declared that I was going to be the first person to do so.

One year later, I stood on the coast of Senegal. I was with two other runners and a crew of people who were there to create a film about the expedition. I never set out to make a film; I was the guy who wanted to see if he could run across the Sahara. All I could think of, at that moment, was, 'I'm the guy who suckered everyone into this. And we're all going to die out here.' I had no idea if it was possible. Whenever someone asked, I'd say "100%, of course, we can do it." But in my head, I thought, 'hell no! There's no way.'

After 111 days, running close to two marathons a day, without a single day off, we did it. Almost 5000 miles from coast to coast. I'm proud to say I crossed the Sahara on my own two feet, and that's a memory I'll have with me for the rest of my life.

Running saved my life. Then it gave me a life.

This is a linchpin moment in my life. The best thing to come out of the experience was starting H20 Africa with Matt Damon. Who was also one of the producers of the film. Today, H2O Africa is Water.org. It is the world's largest clean water non-profit, having raised billions of dollars to fund clean initiatives across the planet.

29029 is a life-changer

Through the years, I acknowledge that the most loving thing I can do for myself is to test my limits of endurance. Be it a 100 miler, crossing a desert, climbing the world's tallest peaks, or participating in 29029.

It gives me a chance to be social, but also to be alone in my thoughts. To purge everything else from my life and to be present.

29029 was a life-changer for me.

And I know I wasn't alone. Most people that I've spoken to walked away a new person. Not only that, it was one of the best-organized events I've ever done. Everything was top notch and perfectly curated, the team thought of everything. They have created an environment for people to have a magical, transformative experience.

It was a beautiful juxtaposition to a regular race. At 29029 you don't have to look over your shoulder or worry about who you are racing. No one asks what your PR is, or what place you want to finish. There is none of that. Everyone is there for a different reason, but with a collective focus to achieve more than they ever thought they could. I left with a sense of accomplishment, and many people left wondering what they can take on next.

Compared to reaching 29,029 feet, everything else in life seems possible. That's all anybody could ever ask for. An experience that gives us the fuel to keep trying, to keep doing more. I'll be back on the mountain in a heartbeat.