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Joanie Ellinghausen

In Honor Of

By 29029 Everesting

April 21^st, 2023

I have a few very good friends of mine from Atlanta who were registered to climb at 29029 Sun Valley in 2021.

Of course, I followed along on their journey, and when they started posting pictures from the slopes, I was absolutely taken aback!

I was mesmerized by their experience.

Intrigued.

Amazed.

A little voice in the back of my head perked up. This is something I want to try…

I’d always wanted to be a triathlete, but we were always moving because of my husband’s work. I never felt like I had settled down enough somewhere to go down the path of being an athlete.

Was that simply an excuse I leaned on?

Maybe.

I’m a competitive person by nature, and I like to do well the first time, so there was a little bit of fear holding me back too. I never did that triathlon.

I didn’t want 29029 to be another one of those could-have moments.

Of course I had many doubts.

Can I even do this at my age? My friends who did it are 20 years younger than me, and they didn’t exactly make it look easy…

With doubts aplenty, I still decided to register. I registered for 29029 Snowbasin in 2022.

I didn’t know if I’d be able to do it, but I was willing to give it a try.

I couldn’t help but feel nervous as I trained!

I’m in Florida - a pretty flat place - so whenever I saw photos from the 29029 community of people training on some epic mountain trail, I felt a twinge of worry and self-doubt.

I had to constantly check my self-talk. Don’t get caught up in what others are doing. Stay the path. Stay focused.

I kept training - kept setting the treadmill to the highest grade possible - and continued making progress towards my goal. I wasn’t going to let my nerves get the better of me.

Before I knew it, the training was done and it was time to climb.

My parents were amazingly influential in my life. They had me late in life - their fourth child - and the lessons they imparted during my upbringing stick with me to this day.

My father was in World War II. He landed on Omaha Beach when he was 19 years old. Even though he was young, he had to deal with that chaos and fear. He had to go into a mission with significant odds of failure, with serious risk to his own life.

My mother, although not on the frontlines, also lived through the scarcity, fear, and uncertainty back home at the same time. It was a very scary time filled with unknowns.

Yet both of my parents persevered. They kept going.

Leaning into my memories of them, and leaning into the lessons from their own life, gave me confidence as I stood at the start line.

If they could do what they did, surely I could climb this mountain!

And then I began.

Almost instantly, I picked up on the energy from the community. Everyone you meet on a 29029 mountain is one of the most encouraging and infectiously energetic people you’ll meet!

Between that and the memory of my parents, my ascents up the slope ticked away. The nervous energy was gone, replaced with excitement!

It wasn’t until the sun set that those nerves settled in again.

I was absolutely petrified about the thought of climbing in the dark.

I was near-paralyzed with fear, but I knew if I wanted to pull on a Red Hat by the finish, I needed to find a way to keep climbing after darkness set in.

Karen wasn't afraid of the dark. Or if she was, she didn't show it.

Who is Karen, you ask? She was my closest friend in life.

Karen was lighthearted, generous, and giving, but also fierce and willing to fight for what mattered to her. She had an inspiring self-drive.

She wouldn’t complain, no matter the obstacle in front of her. She’d always smile and tackle things head-on.

She was truly my best friend. We baked together. We exercised together. We confided in each other. It was one of those friendships that feels like it only comes around once in a lifetime.

Karen was the kind of person who would have signed up to do 29029 alongside me in a heartbeat. Unfortunately, at the age of 61, she passed away from breast cancer.

As the sun started going down and I sat, mentally preparing myself to spend some time tackling one of my greatest fears, I thought about what Karen would do.

How would she handle hiking at night if she was afraid of the dark? She would probably smile, crack a joke, and start climbing!

I leaned into the memory of Karen, took a deep breath, and continued climbing.

In honor of her.

I was pushing through my fears of the night, but almost 18 hours of straight climbing had started to take a toll on me. My body ached, my mind was tired, and I was starting to feel more than a little unwell and dizzy.

I’d pushed up against my limits.

Every ounce of my body was screaming for me to stop as I reached the final aid station during my 8th ascent.

The volunteers offered up all sorts of help and even said they could get a first aider to give me a ride back down the mountain if I needed.

I thought about it for a minute. Is this how my 29029 ends?

What would Karen do? What would my parents do?

They wouldn’t quit.

I politely declined their offers. With a little rest and an electrolyte tab, I figured I’d be able to make the summit. Then I could take a break.

It wasn’t easy when I started climbing again. There was maybe a mile to go, yet each step forward felt like an insurmountable obstacle.

I prayed to God. I talked to Karen. I talked to my parents. With the help of all of them, I was able to keep putting one foot in front of the other.

When the summit, came into view, my husband, Jim, was there, waiting for me.

I broke down into tears. Jim had never left me. He was at the top waiting for me at every ascent, ready to lend a helping hand.

It was after midnight, and my body was starting to fail. I needed to take a break.

Between my faith, my husband, my parents, and Karen, I knew I had enough to get me to that Red Hat, but first, I needed rest.

I bumped into Coach Chris on my way down to my tent.

“Get some rest if you need it, just make sure you’re up by 5 am. You’ll need the time if you want to finish.”

Dutifully, I retired to my tent, setting my alarm for very early in the morning.

Whether it was energy from the mountain, the hype towards working towards my goal, or something else entirely, I didn’t get very much sleep. After tossing and turning for a few hours, I decided it was to time to start climbing again.

It was 3:45 am, and I was going to keep climbing toward my Red Hat.

I climbed through sunset and into the morning, dutifully ticking away my ascents. Before I knew it, my final ascent was there.

I wish I could go back in time and experience it all over again.

As I came into view of the finish line - a long winding service road between the Red Carpet and me - I could already hear the cheers. The summit was alive with energy!

The past 36 hours had been such a spiritual experience. I had pushed through pain, discomfort, and fear. I had leaned into my faith, and the memory of my parents, and honored my late friend, Karen.