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Karen Eustice

Unintentional Hero

By 29029 Everesting

December 13^th, 2024

I've never really considered myself an athlete.

In fact, when I started down this path that's led me to this story you're reading, I only really thought there were things like Ironmans and marathons out there - I didn’t realize there were entire, larger communities that leaned into other endurance feats.

But in September of 2022, my husband passed away, and it forced me to rethink what I might want to do in life.

I knew that in grief, I’d have to lean into a year of new things to get through it. I needed to build a new life and step outside of my usual self.

It was in that context that I stumbled upon 29029.

I didn’t really know what it was, but it looked interesting.

And hard.

I put my name on the waiting list, not really knowing what I was getting into.

A few months later, the email came in.

“A spot has opened up at Snowbasin in 2023. Do you want it?”

I was in.

I was going to Snowbasin!

I arrived in Utah a nervous wreck. It didn't help that I knew I probably hadn't done as much of the training as I should have. I'd underestimated the mountain...

Undertrained, at altitude, and surrounded by people who looked much fitter and more prepared than me, I started climbing.

I couldn’t breathe, each step feeling like a mountain in itself, as I tackled the steep, loose, rocky terrain of Snowbasin.

That ascent - the first ascent - was the hardest thing I’d ever done. It had taken me hours and hours and hours to reach the summit.

I’m never going to do this again.

Yet, even as I thought that to myself, a part of 29029 had sucked me in.

The next day, I felt compelled to take the gondola to the top and cheer on everyone still climbing.

I’d caught a glimpse of a new world with 29029 - a world of doing hard things, pushing to new heights, and supporting each other within the community.

With some time and distance from my single ascent at Snowbasin, I had begun to rethink what might be possible.

When TRAIL was announced, I was interested.

It’s so much flatter compared to Snowbasin… maybe I can do that!

I signed up for TRAIL.

But this time, remembering my under-trained attempt at Snowbasin, I knew I needed a little extra help - and a little extra accountability.

I looked into hiring a 29029 coach.

As I browsed through the profiles, I realized just how diverse the coaching team was. Each brought a unique blend of experience and philosophy, offering something for everyone.

Coach Paul’s bio caught my eye - his background in business resonated with my own, and his balanced philosophy of structure and encouragement felt like exactly what I needed.

I reached out, and before long, we were building a plan to tackle TRAIL together.

I traveled a lot for work that year, but with Coach Paul’s guidance (and the accountability I felt to him and his program), I’d almost always find a way to still get the training in.

Even on long travel days, where I might not get to my destination until 11 pm, I’d still make a point to hurriedly do my prescribed workout. I never wanted Paul to get a notification that I’d missed a workout.

He was like a guardian angel at my side as I prepared for something harder, further, and more epic than anything I’d ever done.

Coach Paul understood me.

He knew when to push, and he knew when to dial things back.

And most importantly, I think he believed in me before I believed in myself…

My goal for TRAIL was the half: 3 half-marathons in 3 days.

I’ve never even walked a full marathon distance before without a time limit… How could I possibly do one in 12 hours?

I told Coach Paul this, and he simply said “You’d be surprised at what you’re capable of.”

When Day 1 began, it was a relief. Less time to worry - now it was just time to cover the distance and do the thing.

Not long into that day, I took a fall on the rooty terrain, scraping my shin and hurting my leg.

Then, bad went to worse, as I started eating things at the aid stations that I probably shouldn’t have. I felt sick, but I wasn’t going to let my setbacks give me excuses.

I didn’t want to let Coach Paul down… and more importantly, I didn’t want to let myself down!

I kept going, making it to the half-marathon distance.

I’ve never gone this far before… Maybe I can actually do the full distance!

Then, at Mile 18, I started throwing up.

Then, at Mile 24 - at the final aid station, and so close to the finish - I realized I wouldn’t be able to finish the day.

I was close. So close! But my body was giving in. There had been a slight incline up to the aid station, and I could barely even make it up that.

I’d pushed myself to the absolute limit.

That was it. You gave it your all. You went further than you’ve ever gone. You’re done.

When I got back to the Ritz, I felt like not only was I done the day, but probably done the event. I had pushed so hard and so far that I thought there was absolutely zero chance I could get up and try again the next day.

Quitting felt reminiscent of Snowbasin. I couldn't give up again, so I decided to push off the decision of whether or not I'd start Day 2 until the morning.

When I woke up, my alarm blaring, I realized something: If I didn't at least try, it would be like giving up again. I hadn't come this far just to quit.

I lined up at the startline.

Again.

Day 2.

And again, the half-marathon was in my sights.

It was a hard day, but I did my best to suffer through it.

I made it past the half distance, but just like Day 1, I ended up quitting before completing the full. Time was not on my side.

Back at the Ritz, again, I felt the same thing: There’s no way I can get up tomorrow and do this once more….

Then, my alarm went off for Day 3 and the same morning thoughts ran through my head.

You didn’t come this far not to try.

Coach Paul’s belief in me had never wavered, even when I’d quit before reaching the full finish line on days 1 and 2.

On day 3, I felt a new fire in me.

I’d realized that, although I thought I’d given it my all the first two days, I actually hadn’t. On both instances, I had chosen to quit.

I was never forced to stop, I had chosen to.

I made a choice, right then and there, at the start line of Day 3: I’m going until they make me stop.

I was going to go as far as I could until time ran out. No quitting - no giving in - just moving forward until somebody told me I couldn’t anymore.

I still didn’t think I’d make it, but at least I could say I truly gave it my all this time.

As the day went on, I started to realize that time, although tight, was on my side.

They might not get the chance to pull me off, because I might just have enough time to make it!

My power hike turned into a bit of a shuffle - time ticking away with each footstep - as I tried to muster everything I could to speed up.

I repeated my mantra to keep me going.

I’m either finishing or going until they make me stop.

Eventually, all that stood between me and the finish line was a short downhill. That’s when I saw Coach Paul, giving him a teary hug.

I’d made it.

“Go on down there. Everybody is waiting for you.”

I broke through the tape, ready to collapse in a heap of emotions.

I’d done it.

A full mountain marathon!

I had gone further than I thought I could go.

I had pushed past my goals and come up far ahead of what I had even thought possible.

I had dug deep and not only finished two half-marathons in a row, but capped it off with a full marathon!

Coach Paul was right - I was capable of even more than I’d thought.

The feeling of accomplishment was euphoric.

Looking back, I realized this journey wasn’t just about finishing a marathon - it was about discovering I’m capable of far more than I ever imagined.

Coach Paul’s belief in me pushed me to see that, and it’s a lesson I’ll carry long after the finish line fades into memory.

What I didn't anticipate, though, was the impact I'd have on others. People came up to me at TRAIL saying "You inspire me." It wasn't something I set out to do, but hearing those words made me realize that I had become, in a way, an unintentional hero.