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Keichun Graves

That Hat Won't Fit

By 29029 Everesting

February 4^th, 2022

The story of why I entered 29029 started a few years ago. It was time to plan a vacation, and my usual tropical destinations in the Caribbean or Central America didn’t have the same appeal they used to. I’d been there, done that.

I felt a calling - I wanted to go somewhere different. I wanted to do something adventurous.

I made a decision that I wanted to step foot on the continent of Africa before I traveled anywhere else.

But what to do? What should I build my trip around? What do I like to do for fun?

I like to hike mountains.

I looked up the tallest mountain in Africa. It was Mount Kilimanjaro.

My mind was made up - I was going to Africa to climb Kilimanjaro!

After a lengthy flight, and a challenging, frigid, multi-day hike, I was finally nearing the summit.

It was ascent day when I looked up towards the peak. All I could see were itty-bitty headlamps all the way at the top.

It seemed so far away. I was cold, exhausted, and worn out; for every step forward, it felt like I slid two steps back.

Excuses floated into my mind. If I stopped, this would be a lot easier.

But instead of quitting, I looked back up the mountain - at all those headlamps far in the distance - and used it as inspiration. The people who were wearing those headlamps had stood right where I was mere hours ago, and now they were at the top. If they could get there, I could too. I kept going.

After 6 days on Kilimanjaro, I had conquered the highest mountain in Africa. The feeling of doing something challenging - of looking an excuse to quit right in the face and saying no, not today - was intoxicating.

I wanted to do more things like that.

But what was next?

After summiting Mt. Kilimanjaro, I felt indestructible, like I could conquer anything. I was looking for my next challenge - my next figurative, or as it turned out, literal, mountain.

I raved about the experience at Kilimanjaro to my friends, and shared my desire for more.

One friend asked me if I’d heard about 29029. She gave me a brief description, and asked if I wanted to do it.

It sounded like the perfect next mountain, so I said yes, and signed up.

Climbing mountains makes me feel like a badass, and I wanted to align that feeling with my personal life. 29029 was a chance to give me that alignment.

If I’m being real with you - 100% honesty - that wasn’t the only reason. It wasn't just personal.

I also wanted to show people that it’s possible for someone like me to do it. So often, when I tell my friends that I’m going to do some big hike, or climb a mountain, or summit the tallest mountain in Africa, they reply with, “What? We don’t do that! Black people don’t climb mountains!”

I wanted to prove that narrative wrong! Black people do climb mountains and black people do hike. There’s no reason we can’t! And I was going to 29029 to prove it.

Going into the event, I still had no clue what I was getting into. 29029 promised so much.

It seemed too good to be true: luxury yurts, gourmet meals, professionally staffed recovery rooms, and a DAMN PRIVATE MOUNTAIN were all promised.

It sounded a bit Fyre Fest-esque to me...

But as soon as I got to the mountain in Utah, all that worry washed away.

This event is legit! No boxed cheese sandwiches or disaster relief tents to be seen!

To be candid, my ego had gone unchecked for too long leading into the event. I was very sure of myself at the start line.

I’ve always been a proponent of being confident - I know my mind can carry me places that my body won’t even entertain - but I may have believed those things just a bit too much.

After about 400 yards, I started to feel that freaking mountain. Oh shit, I’m climbing up a ski slope…

I don't think I properly trained for this.

If I was going to make it to the top, I needed to humble myself. It was more difficult than I had anticipated, and I was going to need all my resources to help me keep climbing for the next 36 hours.

I decided to go for 4 ascents before I’d allow myself a quick break to eat, and let me tell you, that first meal went down well! There are only so many cheezits, waffles, and packaged snacks you can eat before you need to stop for a proper meal.

But my break was short-lived. I needed all the time I could get, so I started back up the mountain, setting my sights on my next milestone: 8 ascents.

On My 6th time up, an old hip injury started nagging at me. I could barely lift my leg, and I was doing everything apart from dragging it behind me to keep going.

It was my darkest moment on the mountain. Doubts were creeping in.

Is this what people are talking about when they say I can’t do it? Is this the moment where I let them win?

But the mountain brings friends with it. I had new amigos - people from the 29029 community - that I could lean on and draw energy from.

The community kept me from sinking too deep into those negative thoughts. Everybody, from volunteers to participants, embraced me.

That sense of belonging gave me enough space to change my energy before those doubts - stinkin’ thinkin’ as I call them - grabbed a firmer hold of me.

But it wasn't enough to just change my thoughts - I had to change my whole being. I changed the music I was listening to. I changed the way I stretched while in the gondola on the way down. I acted with energy. I pumped myself up. I screamed out. I prayed to my ancestors. I prayed to the Lord!

I knew if I kept going, my hip was only going to get worse, so I hit the recovery room after 6 ascents. It was time for my first substantial break. I stretched it, got a massage, iced it, sat in normatec boots, and did all the things I knew I needed to do to get back moving again.

That break was 3 hours, and took me into the morning of the second day. I hadn’t slept, aside from a few minutes of dozing while getting massaged. But I needed to keep going, and I needed to stay positive.

The clock was running out as I started my 10th ascent. I was one of the last people out on the mountain. There was only time for one more climb.

For a split second, I felt down on myself for not reaching Everest… then I made a choice: I was going to be damn proud of my accomplishment of 10 ascents! I pushed through adversity. I pushed through opportunities to give up. I earned this!

Time was up and I had completed 10 well-earned ascents. As I was coming down the mountain, body aching, I called my Mom.

“If I ever say I’m going to do anything like this again, tell me no! Remind me about this conversation!”

Only 3 days later, my Mom already had to remind me of that conversation. But what I said when I was exhausted, sore, and beat-up from the mountain wasn’t the real me. I knew I had to do it again - I knew I had to come back and make it to 13. There was no talking me out of it.

I’ll be back in Utah - back to the mountain that thought it had defeated me - and I’ll get that Red Hat!

I want everyone to know that it doesn’t matter what your ethnicity is. It doesn’t matter what your gender is. Your age and weight don’t matter either. You can do hard things, no matter who you are. And if you don’t believe it, maybe start with Everesting 29029, and one foot at a time, get to your own peaks.

Which brings me to my only complaint of the entire event. Every time I walked past the board of Red Hats at the summit, I looked over at them. There’s no way that hat is going to fit over my hair.