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Megan Hottman

Pedals to Peaks

By 29029 Everesting

May 31^st, 2024

To understand what led me to 29029, you need to understand what led me to racing bikes. And to understand that, we need to go back to my college days…

When I first entered college, the freshman fifteen hit me a little too fast - nearly instantly!

I knew I needed something to keep me in check, so I decided to sign up for a marathon to keep myself in check. I ran a few more, but always just to do them - I didn’t love running for the sake of it - instead, I used it to stay healthy and active while in school.

In my 3rd year of Law School, I signed up for a half-Ironman on a whim.

That’s when I discovered the bike.

Being out on two wheels really captivated me - it felt like something I could see myself doing even when I wasn’t training for a specific event or goal.

When I graduated from law school, I began bike racing, trying to become as competitive as I could.

It was a challenging thing to pair with a brand new law degree - the work hours were demanding, and to be competitive on a bike was equally so.

But I was fixated on it, which kind of became the story of my career in a nutshell: navigating the tension between the thing where I wanted to spend my time and energy, and the need to work a lot of hours to be successful in my profession.

It felt like I was either starving for money, or starving for fitness, but I do feel like I made it to the peak of my abilities as an elite cyclist during that time. I threw everything I could at it, even while balancing a law career, and raced around the country, and even at some World Cups abroad.

In 2022, I was struck by a car while out on my bike. In the moment it was happening, I thought it might be lights out for me. Thankfully, I survived, although severely injured.

I had a tibial plateau fracture with a torn meniscus, which meant my leg had be completely non-weight-bearing. It was such a compression that I needed a cadaver graft, metal plates, and screws to put my leg back together in the hospital.

Alongside that, I had broken my scapula and had an AC separation on my arm and shoulder. That meant no crutches and no walker.

For the first time in my life, I was almost totally immobile.

No morning walks, no yoga, no activity… just nothing.

Movement and activity had been integral to my life, and here I was without it.

It was discouraging.

Demoralizing.

Disheartening.

Devastating.

Eventually, I was able to start very basic activities, which is when I started to realize I needed to plan a comeback event - something that I could work towards that would prove I was still capable.

With the added wrinkle that I used to race bikes at an elite level, I knew my comeback event couldn’t be cycling-related. Not only did I have some fear around getting back on the bike, but I knew that it would be near-impossible to not compare my fitness to pre-crash Megan’s.

That’s when I saw a post on social media about 29029 Everesting. Almost instantly, I felt it would be the perfect comeback event.

I wanted something that was so far removed from my usual athletic endeavors, yet still challenging. 29029 fit the bill perfectly, so I signed up, and when my injuries had healed enough to allow me, I started training.

When I arrived at Snowbasin, I was genuinely taken aback by the slope.

I looked at the mountain, and I felt intimidated.

It was soooooo steep!

I was deep into the unknown, and I felt the pressure of what I was hoping to get out of my time on the mountain: redemption.

As an athlete bouncing back from an injury, it was really important for me that it went well. If I was unsuccessful at Snowbasin, I knew it would be an acute, demoralizing hit to my confidence.

With that pressure and pre-event nerves looming in my mind, I hit the start line, and before I knew it, I was climbing.

I was surprised at how quickly I pulled away from the main group of climbers on the first ascent, which should have been a positive for me, but instead, my internal monologue streamed out concerns and doubts.

You better slow your shit down Megan, because they clearly know something you don’t…

I was going out like it was a race - which was almost all I’d ever known - but I’d never done a 36 hour event before… I slowed things down slightly, but felt so good, that I never backed off my pace too much.

I understood it wasn’t a race, but I felt a twinge of pride as I continued to be the first woman up and down the mountain for most of that day.

It felt like a return to who I was before the crash - an athlete.

By Friday afternoon, temperatures had started to soar.

It was hot, I was tired, and my body was starting to feel the effects of climbing for hours on end.

I had a few strategies I used as things started to get harder, adapted from my experience racing bikes.

There were 4 distinct pitches on the course that I would consider the steepest sections, and when I got to them, I would do the opposite of what might be intuitive to a non-racer: I sped up!

I’d try to finish those steep and challenging segments as fast as possible, and then use the less steep sections to back off the pace and enjoy some recovery while moving.

I also hiked with a hydration pack so I didn’t need to stop to get a drink, and when I got to the top, I’d grab a pack of Precision chews and a Pop Tart, eating them on the gondola ride down. I wanted to minimize the stopping and maximize my momentum.

After my 9th ascent, I had my standout moment of personal growth.

It was the evening, and I definitely could have clicked out my last 4 ascents to finish in the middle of the night.

Even though it wasn’t a race, I knew it would feel good to be the first woman to finish.

I had to choose - do I finish now and let it fuel my ego, or do I take a break, enjoy a night of rest, and finish the next day?

A few years ago, I know what decision I would have made.

But this time, I set my ego down.

It’s not a race against others, this is a challenging experience to have for yourself. It’s okay if you wake up in the morning and people are ahead of you.

I decided to go to bed.

To me, that moment signaled true growth, because pre-crash Megan would have made a very different decision. Now, I was more motivated to take care of myself as a human instead of just trying to compete against others.

The next morning, I woke up well-rested, feeling good about my decision, and before I knew it, I was on my Red Bib ascent.

At first, when I heard people talk about the Red Bib, I thought it wasn’t really a big deal.

Okay… it signifies your final ascent, but that’s it. No big deal.

Then I pulled mine on, and in that moment, I realized how challenging the mountain had been for everybody. The ascent board was filling up, but it was not that full. There were plenty of people who had given it their all, but weren’t going to reach Everest.

There was going to be a sizeable number of people who wouldn’t even get the chance to pull on a Red Bib.

I didn’t want to take it for granted.

The mountain was a bit quieter when I was on my final ascent, which gave me a lot of time to reflect on the challenge and growth I’d experienced since the crash until now.

It was in those quieter moments I was able to reflect on everything. What led me here, who I was, what I’d done, and where I was going.

My Red Hat awarded for the final summit served as tremendous proof that I was back. Proof that my body wasn’t going to fall apart. Proof that I could return from the crash and still do challenging things.

It was a tremendous moment!

My journey, from first pedal stroke to final summit at 29029, has redefined my understanding of strength. It’s not just about the speed or accolades, it’s about embracing the struggle, finding joy in resilience, and celebrating each small victory along the way.

A hard day - or a hard event - doesn’t necessarily define you, but those moments do create a powerful chance to see how deep your power of resolve is.