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Luis Bracamonte

From Butterfly to Black Bib

By 29029 Everesting

August 15^th, 2025

I’m the Fitness & Wellness Director at the Ocean Reef Club in Key Largo, and I’ve been in the fitness industry for a long time. It was there that I met Joannie Rich, doing some training together and becoming friends over the years.

One day, Joannie came back from her first 29029 mountain, and couldn’t stop talking about it.

The climb.

The challenge.

The community.

“Luis, you’ve got to do one of these!”

I didn’t know it then, but she’d just opened the door to something that would change my life.

When I was younger, I swam on the Peruvian National Swim Team. My favorite event just so happened to be one of swimming’s hardest: the 200 meter butterfly.

It taught me how to suffer. How to work hard. How to push through pain. And how to come out stronger on the other side.

In 2021, I’d need to lean on those lessons…

It was not an easy year for me. I had just gone through a challenging break-up, and my father was terminally ill back in Peru.

Because of COVID, I couldn’t travel to be with him before he passed.

Life was hitting me hard, and that’s when I realized I needed to go back to what I knew: pushing my physical limits.

I signed up for Stratton - not just for the sake of the challenge, but as a reminder of what I was capable of.

When I arrived at my first 29029 mountain, I had no idea what to expect. There were a lot of thoughts rushing through my head.

I’m a former Div 1 athlete. I’m a personal trainer. I’m a fitness professional. So… will this be easy? Will I be first? Will I be in the middle? Will I even finish?

Before the event even started, one thing stood out: the energy.

It wasn’t just about the mountain; it was about the people.

From staff to volunteers to the event owners, everybody seemed determined to building a community.

It wasn’t just here’s a mountain, let’s do something hard, let’s each gain something individually.

Instead, it was more about doing it together as a community.

And I loved that vibe!

At the start line, I was a little nervous, but mostly confident.

I trained for a living. I had the resume. I knew it wouldn’t be a walk in the park, but I didn’t think it would knock me down either.

It was time to climb.

And not long in, I learned I had been wrong.

During the fourth ascent, my back started to go.

I blamed Florida.

No hills, no elevation… just flat land and incline treadmills.

The event had barely begun, and I already found myself wondering if this was it.

Am I done already?

I headed to the recovery room, hoping for a little relief.

And I found it.

Not just from the treatment, but from the energy in that space. The quiet determination. The belief. The care.

When I left, I wasn’t 100%, but I could move.

And that was enough, so I kept climbing.

When I finally finished my 17th ascent, earning the Red Hat, I felt a massive sense of accomplishment.

But I also felt something deeper.

This wasn’t just about my finish line.

It was about watching others reach theirs.

The satisfaction of pushing yourself to the edge while watching others do the same is something that words cannot truly describe.

I had never felt that at a race before.

It wasn’t competition, it was connection, and on the gondola ride down, I knew I’d be back.

I was hooked.

In 2022, I decided to climb Whistler.

To this day, it might be my favorite mountain.

The lush forests, the massive peaks, the unpredictable weather… it had it all!

But it wasn’t easy.

Around 11 pm, halfway up another ascent, I tweaked my hip.

And unlike Stratton, where you can always see the summit, Whistler keeps you guessing. The climb was long - more than double Stratton - and there was no shortcut to the recovery room.

I had to limp the rest of the way up that mountain.

Thankfully, after some time in recovery and a little sleep, I felt better.

Not great, but good enough to keep going.

So I did.

And I finished.

Red Hat #2.

On the gondola ride down, I wasn’t just proud, I was motivated.

I was one mountain away from earning the Black Bib.

And that became the next goal.

Jackson Hole was my 2023 mountain.

Knowing I had the grit to finish, I decided on a new aim for the climb: finish without getting injured.

No tweaks. No limping. No injury sustained on the mountain.

Technically, I succeeded, but not for the reason you might think.

Because this time, I didn’t get injured on the mountain…

I showed up injured.

Two weeks before the climb, I ran my first marathon. At mile 13, I tweaked my calf. Not wanting to quit, I walked and jogged where I could all the way to the finish line. It took nearly six hours, but I didn’t quit.

And less than two weeks later, I was standing at the base of Snow King Mountain.

Now, you might be thinking that the shortest and steepest mountain is probably the worst mountain to tackle with a calf injury.

And you’d be right.

I was careful, changing how I stepped, listening to my body, and doing everything I could to protect that calf.

And it worked.

Red Hat #3.

Black Bib earned.

When 29029 announced Mont-Tremblant, it was a mountain of firsts for everybody.

For me, it was also a milestone moment: my first time wearing the Black Bib.

And I also wanted it to be my first time climbing through the night.

For most of the event, it was incredible. The location, the energy, the scenery… everything felt exciting. I found a rhythm early and held it.

I was pacing well and feeling strong.

Then, sometime during the night, I started nodding off.

I’d look at the grass, lit up by my headlamp, and think, “Maybe I could lie down and nap right there.”

I was seriously tired, deeper than just physical fatigue. Just drained.

At the summit, in the middle of the night, I actually did nap.

You could barely call it sleep, but after a few dozen minutes, I woke up.

Time to keep climbing.

Just before 6 am, I crossed the Red Carpet for my final time.

Finished.

Under 24 hours.

My fastest one yet.

Red Hat #4.

Because I work in the fitness industry, I’ve always considered myself fit.

I spend time in the gym, I move every day, and I eat well.

But 29029 taught me something different.

Pushing your limits - really pushing them - isn’t the same as a workout.

It’s physical, sure. But it’s also mental. Emotional. Even spiritual.

These mountains force you to confront the voices that tell you to stop. The fatigue. The doubt. The discomfort.

And in doing that, you find something else.

Resilience.

Calm.

Perspective.

A strength that shows up not just on the mountain, but in the rest of your life.

At 47 years old, I can honestly say I’ve never felt more mentally tough.

Looking back on 2021, I can see now that 29029 was the domino that helped me return to the kind of person I used to be. It brought me back to that mindset I had when I was on the National Swim Team, training hard, pushing limits.