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Jim Fisher

I Wonder If...

By 29029 Everesting

December 10^th, 2021

I always look at things in life and think to myself I wonder if I can, and one day, I found myself wondering I wonder if I can Everest a mountain.

Our son lives in New York, and I was down visiting him in 2019 when he told me about this event he was going to do in Stratton that fall - an event that involved Everesting a mountain.

My first thought was, “I wonder if I can?”

My first response was, “Why the hell didn’t you ask me, Chuck? I could do that!”

We’ve always done stuff together - all kinds of adventures - and I thought this would be another fun event to add to the memory bank.

We immediately signed up for Utah 2020. When COVID postponed that event, we rolled our entry over into 2021. We hadn’t actually seen each other for 2 years at this point, so his mother, Mary, said “Well I haven’t seen Chuck in 2 years either, so I want to join too!”

29029 Utah became a family event. It was about doing something together - something memorable. It wasn’t about the mountain. It wasn’t about the event. It was about spending time with family, but it turned into so much more…

I Wonder If

Why did I enter 29029? There were a few reasons.

One of the reasons was the family element - doing something with Chuck and Mary.

But another was an ongoing theme of my life where I have looked at things and thought to myself I wonder if I can.

I used to run marathons. 15 of them actually. And that all started with me thinking I wonder if I can.

I wonder if I can run a marathon.

My first marathon was rough - I hit the wall - but everybody did back then. This was before marathons were popular, and before sports science and nutrition could catch up. It was a nasty last 3 or 4 miles, but I had still been able to run a 3:12.

I wonder if I can run a marathon had been answered. Now I thought I wonder if I can run faster. That propelled me through a few more marathons, striving to go faster.

Eventually, as the calendar turned over and I got older, I realized, I couldn’t go any faster anymore. But the I wonder if theme continued.

Do you sense a theme?

I wonder if, I wonder if, I wonder if…

I wonder if I could maintain a normal level of fitness where I could go out and run a marathon at any time, without any build up or training. I wonder if I can run a marathon at will, without making a big deal out of it.

I wanted to be able to wake up, drive over to a marathon, run the marathon, drive back home, shower, and play baseball with my kids in the afternoon. I didn’t want to make a whole production out of it. I just wanted to do it.

So I did. I’d run on my lunch break at work - almost everyday - and kept myself fit enough to be able to run a marathon at will.

I had always been able to run somewhere between 3:15 and 3:30, but eventually, life closed in - I couldn’t fit in as much training as before. I was working all the time - on the road and in the office. Lunch break runs became fewer and farther between.

My last marathon was in New York.

I finished it in 4:01, and when my wife came and found me, I was sitting under a tree in Central Park, brooding about my time. 4:01 didn’t feel like running a marathon anymore.

So I told Mary, “That’s it, I’m never going to do another one.”

She found a piece of paper and made me write down that promise. It was time to move on to new adventures - and new I wonder ifs.

The Calendar Turns Over

There is a lot of thought that goes into I wonder if.

First of all, you have to be enormously grateful that you have a body that is able to do whatever your I wonder if is. We take it for granted that we can go for a walk, go for a run, or hit the gym, but not everybody is so lucky.

You also have to be enormously grateful that you have a life that enables you to do that I wonder if. In most of the world, you have to work your butt off just to survive. There isn’t time for such leisure and fun. At the end of the day running, hiking, or going up a mountain are all hobbies.

I have friends who are similarly well-endowed. They have time, they have a healthy body, but they just stopped when the calendar turned over. They stopped because of age.

And that just never made sense to me.

They ask me “Are you still doing ______ at your age?”

And my answer is always, “Well yeah, and you could too…”

I don’t have to stop just because I’ve had another birthday. If I did something last year, why can’t I do it this year? A lot of people put their own limits on themselves - and they don’t have to.

You have to be sensible, but you don’t have to stop. I don’t have to stop. I don’t want to stop.

You Can Always Take the Next Step

As an event, 29029 is the most interesting I’ve done.

If you’re running a marathon, and you hit the wall, there becomes a moment when your legs don’t work. They just stop. If you want to do 100 pushups, you’ll hit a point where your arms don’t work. They just stop.

With these sorts of physical feats, there becomes a point that you can no longer will yourself to continue. There is a limit.

But not at 29029. Of course it’s physically challenging, but it’s truly more of a mental challenge. At the mountain, everybody is capable, because you can always take the next step, no matter how tired you are. And then you can take another. And another. And another.

29029 Is Not A Race

I’ve also never been to an event that is so damn positive. I’ve done marathons and triathlons, endless 5k & 10k runs, and all that kind of stuff, and I’ve never experienced anything like this.

At almost any other event, you are competing against others. You look at somebody and think to yourself I want to beat them. I want to be faster than them.

At 29029 you look around at everyone else, and you think to yourself I’m going to try to do this, and I hope you can too!

You can do other endurance events - there’s no shortage of them - but they are all races. They are all about who can finish the fastest. I have a story from only a few years ago that exemplifies this better than anything else:

I was at a triathlon a few years back, and in the final few kilometers, came upon a heavier gentleman who was racing his first triathlon.

My years of truly racing were long behind me, and I was just running my own pace. And even if I was racing, the gentleman I was catching was at least 40 years my junior, and not in my age category.

The final few km of any race are the hardest, and I know what it’s like to struggle through. He looked like he was suffering. It soon became clear that at my pace I was going to pass him.

As I neared, he glanced back and saw me. Immediately, his pace picked up, and I just knew what I’m sure had crossed his mind: something like I cannot get passed by this old man.

I continued at my pace, and eventually, again, he started to slow. I could tell if I kept my pace, I was going to pass him.

As I kept running, the finish line nearing, I thought to myself, “I can’t do this to him again. If I pass that person I will ruin his day.”

He was doing something wonderful - his first triathlon - and it wasn’t easy. He had gotten himself in shape, trained, and spent countless hours preparing for this monumental effort.

I didn’t want to wreck that for him, so I backed off the pace and trotted along behind him. That’s a rarity at those events. They are called races after all.

But 29029 is not a race. If somebody caught up to you - or passed you - there was never a feeling of I’m beating you. It was always a feeling of support - support for a common goal. Everybody wanted everybody else to do well.

More Than Just a Number

At other events, you are just a number. At 29029, you are so much more.

Aid stations are staffed by volunteers who do far more than hand out water and pick up discarded cups - they cheer you on by name!

They ask you how you're doing, and they genuinely want to know. They are in your corner, and they stay there all day, all night, and all day again.

Colleen on the mic knows how you're doing - ascent after ascent, even through the night. The coaches know how you're doing too, and they know how to encourage you to keep going. Coach Ashley helped reassure me to complete my last ascent.

Everybody there wants to see you succeed.

I Didn't Quite Make it to Everest

Throughout the first day, everything had gone well. I was doing about 2 hour cycles of ascents, and had finished my 6th around 6 pm. I met with Chuck and Mary for dinner.

Mary was done for the day, and Chuck was going to do a few more. I decided to keep going as well.

As I started my 7th ascent, the sun started to set - a gorgeous Utah sunset - but it was then that I learned the headlamp I had was terrible. It just wasn’t bright enough. I was struggling to see my footing on the rocky terrain, and I kept stumbling and losing my balance.

As I finished that climb, it felt like it had started to get dangerous - me being out on the mountain was dangerous. I was going to hurt something - sprain an ankle, or break a leg. I was aware of my limits, and I needed to play it safe. I decided to call it a night.

The next morning, I kept going until I had gotten every checkmark on my bib aside from Everest. I had done 10.

I sat with Mary and Chuck for a little while at the bottom, looking at my watch. I didn’t have time for three more, and three was what remained between me and Everest.

I came into 29029 injured, without any expectations, so I was happy to sit with my family now. 10 ascents were enough for me.

In hindsight, stopping was a mistake. I probably could have finished those last 3 ascents. When I had done the math on ascents I had remaining, I forgot that the time during the final ride down the gondola didn’t count. The finish line was at the top, not the bottom!

It would have been close, but I probably had enough time to make it to Everest. It was there to be done, and I didn’t. I’ll never know if I could have finished - if I could have climbed to Everest that afternoon in Utah.