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Paul Mosley

Removed, Not Lost

By 29029 Everesting

November 10^th, 2023

Life has this funny way of slapping you awake when you’re coasting.

After a medical diagnosis, we found out that my oldest son was going to need a kidney transplant one day in the future.

Who better to donate their kidney than me?

This is where life did the slapping.

The doctors told me that I wouldn’t be a suitable candidate to donate a kidney because of my weight.

It was a gut punch.

But it wasn’t a knockout.

It lit a fire in me.

I vowed to get healthier.

Through sheer determination and hard work, I started to chip away at losing weight. One pound at a time started to add up to a pretty big number, and before I knew it, I was down 100 pounds.

It wasn’t just about pounds, I was also shedding the past. Every drop of sweat and every time I said no to the easy way out, I was becoming a new and improved person.

One day, in a rush to get out the door, I couldn’t find my keys.

I had lost them.

While frantically searching the house, something dawned on me.

When you lose something, your mind strives to find it.

I know that sounds obvious, but stick with me - I’m not talking about the keys anymore, I’m talking about my weight.

I hadn't lost weight, because I wasn't about to go back looking for it.

That weight was gone for good.

So I reframed it in my mind - I didn't lose weight, I removed it.

Through my reformation into a new person - through my weight removal journey - I had learned to become a much more positive person.

That positivity would be put to the test when it came time to go back down the road of donating my kidney. After running some tests, the doctors told me I had the same gene causing the kidney problems in my son.

He would need to get a kidney from someone else.

The old me would have immediately gone back to an unhealthy life.

But the new me? The new me used that as fuel.

Seeing how I responded to that, I wondered how I'd respond to other tests.

Would I continue to live up to my new values? How would I respond when I was truly pushed? Would I continue to see the glass as half-full? What would happen if a new challenge popped up?

I was looking for something that would prove and solidify this new me, so I signed up for 29029 Stratton.

As it would turn out, that new positive attitude of mine was going to be more important than I could have ever imagined on the mountain.

The first climb was incredible.

The energy concentrated in that group at the start and throughout the first 29029 ascent before we had spread out on the mountain was amazing!

Headlamps lit up the darkness, signaling that this community was starting their climb.

It was a sight I'll never forget.

I was a part of this crazy community and I couldn’t wait to see what would unfold on the mountain.

On the gondola ride down from my third ascent, the rain started.

Some people might have been unhappy about the rain, but not me.

I chose to be on this mountain. I can choose what I want to say. I can choose positivity.

The rain wasn't something to resist. I chose to be on the mountain to test myself, and the rain was just that - another test.

I chose to be here.

It made it easy to stay positive, no matter how hard the mountain got.

On the 4th ascent, my hips started hurting. Not your normal sore-and-tired-from-climbing-a-mountain type of sore, but I-might-be-dealing-with-an-injury sore.

I couldn't control that. All I could do was keep my positive attitude and continue climbing through the rain.

So that's what I did.

I had finished 7, but I was behind schedule.

I wasn't feeling good.

Coach Brent was at the ascent board, and I told him what was happening.

"I'll do one with you!"

I thought we would climb together for a little while - maybe to the first aid station - before parting ways.

Here I was struggling, slowly doing my best to keep moving foward, while Brent was alongside me, a drink in one hand, a pole in the other, making it look easy.

There's no way he's going to do this whole thing with me. He could lap me 3 times before I'd finished one.

As we talked, Brent said, "I'm going to do the whole thing with you."

It took 2 hours and 40 minutes, and Coach Brent never left my side.

I will always be eternally grateful for that time - the patience, kindness and encouragement - that Coach Brent showed while I kept climbing.

During my 9th ascent, my pace slowed even more. My hips were on fire. It was pitch black. I was wet. It was cold. It was raining. The mud was getting thicker. There was nobody around.

All I could do was look down.

I started questioning myself.

This is the test.

It was late, and I had found a pocket of isolation on the mountain. I couldn't see any headlamps ahead or behind me. The only sound that cut through the night was rain falling, and streams flowing down the trail that I was climbing.

It’s easy to stay positive when a bunch of other crazy participants surround you. But now - alone, tired, cold, and hurting - was when my real test began.

I nearly gave in to the negativity before snapping myself out of it.

This is awesome.

I get to do this.

It became my mantra.

I pushed away the negative thoughts by continually reminding myself about the positives.

This is awesome.

I get to do this.

Later on that ascent, I slipped and fell, tweaking my hip.

The pain continued to intensify as I completed that climb.

It was becoming clear that injury was going to force me to quit.

But not yet.

Instead of giving in, I wanted to honor the reason I was on the slope in the first place.

I wanted to prove my new self was here to stay.

I wanted to do one last climb.

So I set out, in the torrential rain, once more.

It took four hours.

My longest ascent - by a lot.

It gave me a lot of time to reflect.

And that’s when I realized I was glad it was raining.

I’m glad it rained so hard and for so long.

Sure, it made it harder - but that forced me to look deeper inward.

Climbing that beast of a mountain was like wrestling every bad choice I had ever made. Every step up that muddy slope walked me away from who I’d been, and walked me further into who I'd become.

It was an emotional journey.

Not just the huffing and puffing, but the realization that I could choose to frame my narrative on my own terms.

I chose to climb.

I chose to fight.

I chose to be better.

And finally, four hours later, I stood at the top of the mountain, stopping briefly to acknowledge and thank God.

Then I got in the gondola. Coming back down, I wasn’t the same guy who started up that trail.

I know the glass is half-full. I know I can find good in every situation. I know I can push through struggles. I know I can be better.

Much like I removed my excess weight, I had now removed any tendencies towards negative attitudes.

29029 helped me remove what didn’t serve me and replace it with a new and improved self that aims to keep pushing onward and upward, no matter the obstacles.