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Kristin Ribley

"This is Not Utah"

By 29029 Everesting

April 1^st, 2022

I like to do things that push me out of my comfort zone. For my birthday, I usually pick some sort of adventurous goal for the year. There was a time when I couldn’t do a single pull-up, so that year I set a goal to do 10. Another year I set a goal to do a half marathon.

For my 50th, I set a goal to climb the equivalent of Mount Everest at 29029 Utah.

I showed up in Utah feeling confident. I wasn't the fittest person on the mountain, but I felt like I could do it. I thought the only thing that could keep me from finishing would be something crazy, like a broken leg, or some other terrible injury.

A few ascents in, I started getting cramps. It was no big deal - nothing I couldn’t push through. I started drinking electrolyte drinks and pickle juice at the aid stations to help.

After a few more ascents, I was still chugging pickle juice, hoping to continue to stave off any more cramping. At the aid station at the top, I noticed some salt tablet packets.

Perfect. I grabbed a pack and tore into it on the gondola on the way down. I didn’t have my readers on, so I couldn’t see the directions. There were three tablets inside - all very small - so I took them all.

I didn’t know that would cause a problem.

Apparently, the package said to take one tablet every few hours. But I didn’t know that at the time. I kept hiking, and kept chugging pickle juice and electrolyte drinks every chance I got.

As the evening wore on, my body started shutting down. I was nauseous. I had a massive headache. My body was shaking. I was really sick, but I didn’t tell anybody, except for my husband, Dan, who was doing 29029 with me.

Looking back on it now, it was kind of funny. I had convinced Dan to do it with me. He doesn’t usually do this kind of thing - the endurance hike up a mountain 13 times thing - but he signed up to support me.

And now I felt like I was holding him back as he waited for me to slowly crawl my way up.

Our original plan had been to hike all night, but we stopped at 9. We went to our tent for some much-needed rest. Dan could have kept going, but he stayed with me to make sure I was okay.

That night, we were both ready to quit. I was so sick, and Dan was only there because of me, so he didn’t feel very invested in finishing alone. We were having a bit of a pity party…

We had this whole dialogue of how we could leave - how we could try to sneak away under the cover of night. We were done. Finished. We talked that night as if we’d already quit.

But the embarrassment of everyone seeing us slinking away past their tents, even at night, was too much to handle.

Fear of embarrassment kept us on the mountain.

A bit after 4 am, I woke up, and I asked Dan how he was doing.

There was a long pause before he murmured, “I don’t know…”

I let the silence linger. I felt pretty good - like I should go back out there - but I felt like I couldn’t push him. He had waited for me the day before, even when he could have kept going, so I felt like I had to repay the favor by letting him dictate what happened next.

Finally, I broke the silence.

“Do we keep climbing today?”

More silence followed - 20 minutes of it. I thought Dan had fallen back asleep!

“Did you hear me?”

“Yes. I was just thinking what my answer is.”

Even more silence followed as he mulled over the options in his head.

“We could just go get a coffee,” I offered.

So we went to do that. We didn’t have to commit to anything just yet - we could decide over coffee after we were dressed and ready.

Of course we started another ascent. Small steps lead to big steps, and going to get coffee led to us climbing the mountain.

But it didn’t take long for my body to start shutting down again. I was having these weird chest pains - almost like what I thought a heart attack might feel like.

That ascent would be my final one. I could no longer go on.

After making sure I was okay, Dan kept going. I was so proud of him! He had come here for me, and almost chose to quit the night before when I was doing so poorly. But that final morning, he just came alive!

While I went back to lay down to try to rest and feel better, he was flying up the mountain, climbing towards his Red Hat.

I told myself I was going to be okay with not finishing. I told myself it was out of my control. Maybe it was the altitude. Definitely all that salt had something to do with it too.

I went to the top for Dan’s final ascent and cheered him on across the line. I got to watch him pull on his Red Hat - a truly special moment.

So much goes into earning it, so I expected him to wear it until we got home from our flight. But at the dinner, he wasn’t wearing it. He didn’t wear it onto the plane either. He wanted to be considerate of me - his support never wavering.

Even though I said I was okay with not finishing, he must have known otherwise…

It was on the flight home when I realized I couldn't be okay with not finishing. We were headed back to Atlanta, and there were plenty of other participants onboard. The pilot must have heard about it, because as we neared cruising altitude, he came over the intercom and made an announcement.

Hey everybody, we’ve got a big group onboard who just finished something amazing this weekend: they Everested a mountain! If you look out your window right now, we are at 29,000 feet. That’s how high these awesome people climbed!

I started balling my eyes out. I was supposed to be one of the people the captain was talking about. I had to talk my husband into doing this, and even he finished. Why couldn’t I?

I made the decision - right then and there on that plane - that I’d go back and earn my Red Hat.

I registered for Vermont, just a few months away, and I convinced my sons, 19-year-old Athan, and 29-year-old Palmer, to join me.

I was, again, feeling confident as I went to Vermont to Everest. The temperatures were so much cooler. I wouldn’t need any salt tabs! No risk of taking too many if you don’t need to take any at all, right?

I had breakfast and hit the start line with Athan and Palmer.

Things were going well at first. They were a couple of laps ahead of me, and I was feeling fine. But as the morning went on, I started to feel off again.

I was starting to feel nauseous.

Oh no… not again! The memories from Utah came flooding back.

I went to my tent for a break and broke down crying. I thought my event was coming to an end again, and this time after only 6 ascents!

After laying down for awhile, I wandered back towards the start line. I hadn’t eaten since 6 am, but I was more worried about finding a way to make the nausea go away. I’m not the greatest at asking for help, but I felt it was time.

I saw Colleen, who immediately noticed that I didn’t look well.

I told her I needed help, and that the same thing in Utah was happening to me now. I was crying.

She looked at me, and in a surprising-coming-from-her authoritative voice told me “This is not Utah! This is not the same. You came here to finish this. You are going to finish this."

I started climbing again.

I joined a coach's pacing group for an ascent, and it changed the game for me! Hiking with others and having that mutual support felt amazing. My body and mind went through this dramatic switch like nothing I’d ever felt before. In an instant, I felt back to 100%!

My sons knew I had been struggling, but now that I was feeling back to myself, I could climb with them. We hiked alongside each other into the evening.

As dusk turned to night, they completed their 12th ascent while I finished my 10th. They were going to take a break and hit the tent for some sleep.

I was feeling good, so I didn’t plan to stop. A wicked storm had rolled in - it was pouring rain, blowing wind, and just straight-up nasty on the mountain, but I wasn’t ready to stop for the night. I wanted that Red Hat!

As we got on the gondola, I told them I was going to keep going.

Palmer was worried. “Why do you have to keep going, Mom? Why don’t you stop and take a break with us?”

It was kind of cute actually - my 29-year-old son worrying about my safety.

“Nothing is going to happen to me. There are enough people around, I’ll be okay.”

With my newfound energy, I finished another two ascents before going to bed. It felt great to know that when I woke up, I’d have the same number of ascents as Palmer and Athan.

We were on track to finish. I was on track to finish.

Palmer finished strong the next morning. He really rose to the challenge, and finished before Athan and I.

Athan was having a harder time, but he stuck with it. He’s an athletic guy, but not in the way that makes hiking up 29,029 feet easy. We hiked all of the second day together, right up to the finish.

I can’t put to words the feeling behind the moment of watching Palmer and Athan finish. Calling myself a proud Mom would be an understatement. They both pushed through something so hard out there… Proud is all I can say, but that doesn’t do my feelings justice.

And what about me? Well, I don’t have the words to describe my feeling of accomplishment either!

I'm proud of myself - I vanquished my failure at Utah. I persevered and went back to Vermont to complete my goal. I asked for help when I needed it. I proved to myself I can do hard things. I experienced how powerful my body is if I just stop and listen to it.

I pushed through everything the mountain threw at me, and finally got to pull on the Red Hat. And it was all because Dan and I were too embarrassed to sneak away to quit in the middle of the night in Utah. I wouldn’t change any of it even if I could!

Our experiences at 29029 changed our family. It forged my bond with Dan, Palmer and Athan. I also have two daughters - a 15-year-old and a 25-year-old - and I hope to one day do 29029 with the entire family. It’s an experience that just can’t be matched, and I want to share it with them all!