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Coach Brent

Brent's Blueprint

By 29029 Everesting

February 23^rd, 2024

It all started with a question that seemed as monumental as the task at hand: How do I make the herculean feat of Everesting not just a distant dream, but an achievable reality for many?

That was just the beginning.

I'm the Head Coach for 29029, and one of the minds behind the training program that is included for each 29029 Mountain Event.

The training plans have evolved over the years. In the original plan, before I’d ever stepped foot on a 29029 mountain, the training focused on distance.

In Stratton, participants had to cover 21 miles to reach Everest. I had to put together a plan that would not only get people ready to cover 21 miles and 29,029 vertical feet of climbing, but also be attainable for anybody, no matter where they lived.

The plan had to work for somebody who lived in the Rockies of Colorado as well as it would work for somebody who lived on the Great Plains of the Midwest.

So I built a program not all that different from a marathon training program.

The training plan was good enough, but as anybody who tackles 29029 knows, we don’t settle for good enough.

I realized this when I showed up to my first 29029 in person. I watched what unfolded on the slopes of Snowbasin in real time.

Excitement. Grit. Tears. Joy. Struggle. Elation.

It was all on display over the 36 hours.

For a group of people with vastly different backgrounds and abilities, it’s amazing how 29,029 vertical feet can be such a similar journey.

Nearing the end of my first day on the slopes of Snowbasin, there were whispers about a certain gentleman who was absolutely flying up the slope, ascent after ascent.

He’s going to finish on the first day!

29029 isn't a race, and there are no winners, but this participant was going as hard as he could to get the most out of himself.

You all probably know who that participant was - he's climbed with us again and again, and also happens to be one of our amazing coaches.

I'm, of course, talking about Wooch!

The next day, on those very same slopes of Snowbasin, I had the chance to talk with Jason Kanaris.

I knew he had some difficulties on the mountain the year before - but he was back, looking for redemption. Early in the morning on the second day, it was becoming clear that Jason was not going to be able to reach Everest this time either.

His facial expression said it all. He looked defeated, so I decided to climb alongside him. We talked about all kinds of things, and I shared my work with my brother on the Kyle Pease Foundation - the good and the bad, the victories and the struggles.

It lit a fire under Jason. His entire demeanor changed as he realized that it wasn’t about reaching Everest, it was about having the grit and perseverance to try, even if it was out of reach.

Jason kept climbing that day, right up until the end, with the 29029 summit crowd cheering him in on that final ascent.

10 ascents.

Aconcagua.

I learned that contrast: that somebody like Wooch and somebody like Jason can be on the same slope, climbing to different heights, yet still achieving the same sense of fulfillment and accomplishment.

That was what 29029 was all about.

And I also realized the training plan needed to evolve.

The emotional connection forged on the mountain by climbing together is unlike any other bond. I loved the feeling of being alongside everybody on the slopes in 2019.

How can I emulate that feeling through the training program?

Of course, the workouts prescribed evolved. More strength. More climbing. More preparation for the demands of the mountain.

But more importantly, I didn’t want this to be just another training program. That left too much room for people to slip through the cracks - room for people to get dejected, nervous, overwhelmed, or worst-case, quit before they even got to the start line.

I had seen firsthand how the community could will people past what they thought their limits were.

I wanted the training program to give a glimpse of that before anyone even arrived at the mountain.

How can we help guide them? How can we we connect with each participant, whether they are an experienced athlete or first-timers to endurance events?

I supplemented the 20-week training plan with a host of check-ins - chances for participants to check in, learn, connect, and ask questions of our coaches.

We planned Coach Calls, Mindset Minutes, a host of videos, and interesting challenges throughout the plan. It was our chance to engage with every participant, giving them a chance to pull even more value out of the training plan.

It was no longer just about preparing physically, but also mentally.

That framework for the plan has survived to this day - a guided program that helps you prepare physically and mentally for the mountain, all while giving you the chance to connect with Coaches and other participants along the way.

You can’t climb the mountain alone.

When I was young, I knew I wanted to be a coach when I grew up.

All I knew about coaching at the time was what I saw on TV: a coach makes a motivating, emotionally charged speech, and his players storm out of the locker room and go win the game.

Obviously, once I got into it, I learned there’s a lot more to it than that.

But that’s still the part of coaching I love the most - not so much the emotional monologues I thought coaching was about when I was younger, but connecting with people and helping propel them forward and upward.

I love being alongside everybody on the mountain. I love connecting with people and reading the situation to figure out what they need.

Do they need help managing their pacing strategy? Do they need somebody to remind them to eat and drink enough? Do they need somebody to help lift them up out of a pit of limiting self-beliefs?

I love watching it unfold, and I love helping athletes through it because I’ve been there before too.

I know what it’s like to doubt yourself. I know what it's like to suffer during an endurance event. I know that it can take a little help to get through it, whatever that it is.

I’ll leave you with one final story from when I was younger.

Of course, like all moms, mine thinks I’m the best at whatever I do. She thinks I’m an incredible athlete, and so when I signed up for my first ever major endurance event - Ironman - she came along to cheer for me.

On the bike course, she waited for me. And waited.

And waited.

Eventually, assuming there was no way I could be traveling so slowly that I wouldn’t have reached her yet, she turned to a friend beside her and said, “He should be here by now… Where’s Brent?”

The reply?

“He’s exactly where he is supposed to be.”

It was true. It was my first endurance event - of course I wasn’t going to breeze through it. It would be a grind.

I love that quote, and I think about it a lot when I’m on a 29029 mountain.

When you’re on the mountain - when you’re in those challenging moments on the slopes - you are exactly where you need to be.

When you have a shitty day at work, you don’t get to say that. When you get in a fight with your spouse, you don’t get to say that.

But at 29029 you do.

At 29029, you get to look at the struggle in a positive light. You get to overcome the shitty moments knowing that you’ll look back on it with only good memories.

Participants often thank us coaches for what we do for them on the slopes, but I don’t think many of them realize how much we get out of those relationships too.

Coaching the kinds of people who say yes to a challenge like 29029 is fulfilling, and watching those same people seize the moment on the mountain is the true magic of 29029.