Kim Skouras

I Knew I Had to Try Again

By 29029 Everesting

October 25^th, 2021

In 2016, I was diagnosed with cancer. I was lucky enough to beat it, and after I did, I made a promise to myself, and to God, that I would do something amazing with my life.

When you suffer from a terminal illness, your mental reflection teaches you a lot about yourself. We have these subconscious stories that dictate who we are, how we act, and how we view things. You don’t even realize these subconscious stories are there until you go through something really hard.

I’ve always been a positive person, but I learned that I was limited in my thinking - limited about what I could achieve. I needed to open up mentally and break through the limiting narrative that was in my head.

If I am going to grow, I need to do something so challenging that it takes everything I’m made of.

I was still recovering from chemo when I started going for walks. I was slow, but it felt good to move. At first it was a quarter mile, then half a mile, and then 1 mile… until eventually I was walking 2-3 miles a day. Then I got to running.

I started entering events. I ran a few half-marathons. They were fun, but they were never the kinds of events that were going to show me who I really was.

Then, in 2018, a few coworkers of mine did this event called 29029. It seemed like something for athletes - true endurance people. They returned to work after 29029 Vermont with a fire inside them - such amazing positivity, and stories of the magic of the community on the mountain.

Maybe this was that something amazing I was looking for.

My first 29029 was a great metaphor for life: You think you know what the mountain is, but when you get there it’s something totally different.

In 2019, I joined many of my coworkers from Impact Partnership in signing up for 29029 Utah. I didn’t know what I was in for, but I felt confident before the day came to head to Snowbasin, Utah for the event. When I got there, I saw the mountain and quit at check-in. It was too big, too intimidating, and I didn’t feel ready anymore.

On my 2nd ascent, my husband, who was doing it as well, lapped me. I burst into tears. Why am I here? Why did I put in so much work? What’s the point?

There was a negative mindset hiding somewhere deep down that I didn’t know existed, and it had just been revealed to me. When the dust had settled, I’d completed 7 ascents total. I didn’t make it to Everest.

The hardest part of not finishing was knowing that I didn’t leave it all out on the mountain. I had quit. In the back of my mind, I thought 29029 was for those kinds of people. You know the ones I’m talking about - people who look athletic and strong, people who run ultra-marathons for fun, people who spend all their spare time working out.

But at Utah in 2019, I saw regular people finish - people like me. There were people on the mountain who had full-time jobs, people who had demanding family lives, and people who would never call themselves endurance athletes - and they were finishing. They were pulling on the Red Hat.

I Knew I Had to Try Again

Not long after, I knew I had to try again. I had to do another 29029. I had learned about failure in 2019 - learned how I processed it - but now I wanted to go and avenge those failures. I wanted to prove to myself I could do it.

Even though I hadn’t achieved my goal, 29029 Utah had changed me. I felt more determined. I had a higher level of belief in myself. I felt myself whispering, “I am capable. I can do this.”

So in 2020, I signed up for Idaho. I trained harder than I ever had before. I felt confident, and there was no doubt in my mind that I would finish. Then, as we all know, the events of 2020 were postponed. It just meant even more time for me to train and prepare!

Fast forward to Idaho 2021, and I was flying! Seriously, I was feeling so good for the first few ascents! I hadn’t taken any breaks after climbing 5 times. I was locked in and in the game.

But Idaho was hot - so uncomfortably hot - and it had started to get to me. I started getting nauseous. I started feeling like I couldn’t go on. The mountain had broken me, and I was embarrassed about it. I was trying to hide from the coaches because I didn’t want them to know that I needed help.

My husband forced me to talk to Coach Brent.

"You have to get back out on the mountain."

Coach Brent was blunt. He simply said, “You have to get back out on the mountain.” Then he set me up with a couple of ladies who would stick with me for a few more ascents. They embraced me, and it helped, but I still wasn’t doing well.

When I finally went to bed, I was shaking and had a fever. I had heat stroke, and I used it as an excuse to quit. Looking back, I could have pushed through. But I didn’t.

When people asked how it was, I told them I was satisfied with my result. I had climbed the mountain 10 times in Idaho - a massive improvement over Utah.

But I wasn’t actually happy - I just didn’t want to share any vulnerability.

At the medals ceremony, it sunk in that this couldn’t be the end for me. I didn’t want to go forward knowing I hadn’t achieved my goal.

When I got home, I asked to be notified if a spot opened up in Vermont or Utah. After how hot Idaho was, I was hoping for Vermont, but really, I just wanted a chance to finally Everest - to finally pull on that Red Hat, no matter the location.

With 6 weeks until Utah, I found out I had a spot!

It wasn’t much time to prepare - but it was my chance. I was all in, and I talked to Coach Brent to put together a plan. For those 6 weeks, I thought of absolutely everything that could go wrong on the mountain, and put together a plan for how I would deal with it. In meticulous detail, I wrote out how I would handle any issues or challenges with hydration, nutrition, the course, injuries, my body, my mental headspace, and more.

Ascent Cards

I created ascent cards - dedicating each ascent to a person in my life. These cards would come with me, and help provide motivation - the why - the reason behind each ascent - as I ticked off each climb up the mountain.

Finally, I wrote myself a “Don’t Quit” letter, something I could open and read if I needed to during the event.

I showed up in Utah and executed my plan with passion, energy and mental toughness. It was going smoothly until ascent 9. I had injured my leg, and every single step was excruciating. When I reached the top of the mountain on that ascent, I didn’t know anymore…

I started to feel doubt creeping in again. But Coach Brent was there. He handed me a terrible tasting chia seed smoothie drink, telling me I needed to drink it. He gently prodded me to continue.

I stepped onto the gondola, still unsure of how I was going to finish. As the gondola doors were about to close, Brent, Mark and Matt stepped on. “You didn’t think we were going to let you drink that smoothie alone, did you?”

The company on the ride down was a game changer. They told me to rest for a quick 45 minutes, and then get back out on the mountain. The Red Hat was in my grasp.

The Last Lap

After that gondola ride down, I knew I was going to finish. Every step I took after that point was so intentional. So planned. So perfect.

When it came time to pull on the Red Bib, all the emotions came flying out. It had been so long - I had tried twice already, but had never gotten this far. Finally, after such a long journey, I had the privilege of pulling on this Red Bib, signifying the final ascent to come. It truly was an indescribable feeling!

They tell you that the last lap is free - that when you pull on the Red Bib for your final ascent, you’ll be catapulted up the mountain, fueled by knowing your goal is near. I’m here to tell you that it’s not a free lap!

It’s hard. With 12 ascents in the legs, it was never going to be easy. But it is definitely the most rewarding.

Finally, the Red Hat

If pulling on the Red Bib was indescribable, pulling on the Red Hat was doubly-so. As I approached the summit for the final time, I heard my name being announced - I heard the cheers - I saw friends from the mountain… The feeling was surreal. It was like a cross of suffering and joy and accomplishment and belief, all wrapped up by a single, hard-earned Red Hat.

Finally finishing brought it all full circle - I had failed at this event in 2019. I had failed at Idaho just 6 weeks ago. But now I had done it! And I had grown so much along the way.

After 34 hours on the mountain, I pulled on that Red Hat. And let me tell you, you never get over that feeling.

Don't Quit

Oh, and about that “Don’t Quit” letter? I never had to open it. But I did keep it as a reminder of what I’ve been through to get here. It truly has been life-changing.