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Linda McMillin

The 13th Ascent

By 29029 Everesting

April 25^th, 2025

I’ve run a lot of races in my life.

Mostly pounding pavement, but a few trail runs too.

A 50k, a 64k… I was no stranger to long distances on my feet.

But I needed something different.

Not another race… a real challenge.

That’s when a friend told me about 29029.

I signed up for Snowbasin as soon as registration opened.

Heading into Snowbasin, I was extremely confident.

I’ve never not finished something I put my mind to.

Why would this be any different?

Of course, I knew it would be hard, but it never occured to me that the mountain might teach me a lesson...

There were many reasons other participants seemed to be worried about Snowbasin.

The base elevation.

But I live at 7,000 feet.

The grade.

I trained on the mountains of Park City.

The time on feet.

I used to run marathons, and I did ALL the training.

The possibility of an injury.

I’ve started events I never should have while injured, and even finished those.

I was confident.

When the time came to climb, I was ready!

There were two groups of coach-led hikes for the first ascent to help with pacing and dealing with those first-ascent nerves.

I joined one to set the pace for me, and it felt pretty easy. Good conversation with other climbers made the time go by quickly as we climbed.

This isn’t so bad.

I completed four ascents by lunch.

As I was finishing another ascent in the late afternoon, storm clouds started to roll in.

The second I was about to step onto the gondola, it shut down due to nearby lightning.

I sheltered in place at the summit lodge, and when the storms passed, made my way to the base before starting another climb.

Keeping things simple, I’d break each ascent into segments between each aid station.

I kept my focus on the immediate steps in front of me, never thinking too far ahead as I kept tackling the mountain, again and again.

As night fell on the mountain, I was still there, climbing.

My feet felt good, my gear was all working perfectly, and although my body was tired, I was still feeling as good as one would expect after climbing for more than 12 hours.

Right up until I wasn't.

Right around midnight, I set out for what would be the hardest ascent yet.

I took a few hours on the pitch-black slopes, Exhausted - not just physically, but mentally too, I was ready for a rest.

After my longest climb yet, I finally reached the summit. It had taken its toll on me, and I made the decision to stop for the night.

I collapsed onto my bed in the tent after 2 am.

Although it was nice to rest, the mix of nerves, adrenaline, and who knows what else kept me awake. I didn't sleep much, and the moment breakfast opened, I was there.

I started to feel the pressure of the clock as I started doing the math. The storms and stopping overnight had put me a bit behind.

Hurriedly, I kept ticking away each ascent as the morning went on, and not long after lunch, I only had two to go.

But I was feeling awful.

Not the usual exhaustion or sleep deprivation that I expected to feel... it was something else.

Something worse.

Coach Emilee noticed and brought me a protein shake and a Coke.

“I’ll hike with you on this one,” she told me.

It was hot in the Utah sun, and I took plenty of breaks.

At the first aid station, I stopped longer, dipping my hat in ice water and doing everything I could to cool down.

I was burning up!

Coach Emilee helped keep me moving forward, but my pace slowed even more as we worked towards the second aid station.

I could barely stand straight, and I started leaning - my poles the only reason I wasn’t falling over.

Hopefully, when I get to the gravel road section near the top, I’ll be okay.

But I wasn’t okay.

I’m not sure if it was heat exhaustion or heat stroke, but I was not well.

I collapsed at the summit in the medic tent. They took my vitals, and it wasn’t great.

I’m done.

I’ve always finished everything I’ve started, no matter what. That includes marathons I probably had no business finishing, pushing through injuries and all.