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Rosalie Wall

From Barbells to Blackcomb’s Peak

By 29029 Everesting

April 19^th, 2024

The first time I ever touched a barbell, I was 47 years old.

That might sound strange coming from somebody who not only owns a CrossFit gym today, but also competes at the CrossFit games, yet it’s true.

That first encounter with a dumbbell came when my daughter was home for winter break about 13 years ago. She was on her University Track Team at the time, so when she came home for the holidays, her coach suggested she find a CrossFit gym to train out of until she returned.

I decided to join her.

Doing those workouts - alongside not only my daughter, but also the others at the gym - motivated me to work harder. It lit a fire inside me that I didn’t know still burned… I found the workouts addicting.

When my daughter left to go back to school, I stayed at the gym.

I was hooked!

A few years later, I started competing.

Since then, I’ve qualified twice for the Crossfit Games, and ended up buying the CrossFit gym I worked out of. To say I love it would be an understatement.

It was through my long winding path to CrossFit that I met Coach Dawn, and eventually, discovered 29029.

I’d classify myself as a nervous competitor, so I started working with Dawn to help me work through that anxiety when I compete.

She has always known how to push me just the right amount outside of my comfort zone - not so far that it seems daunting, but far enough that I find a lot of internal growth. She loves to give me really hard, gritty workouts, but not just the typical CrossFit exercises I was so used to.

Sometimes, she would push me to do things that I never had before - to stretch myself beyond just working out in a gym.

It was in that context that she mentioned 29029 to me.

As a CrossFit athlete, I am no stranger to doing hard things - I do them all the time - but the hard things I’m used to are maybe 10 to 15 minutes long… maybe 30 if I’m really pushing it.

Never 36 hours.

It felt like quite the jump, but I decided to take it.

At Dawn’s suggestion, I registered for 29029 Whistler.

I’d be lying if I told you I wasn’t nervous.

I didn’t know how it would work. I didn’t know how I would prepare. I didn’t know how I would handle such an endurance feat.

Looking for some company alongside my journey, I asked my son to register with me.

Of course, as soon as he said yes, my nerves flipped from the overall scope of the event to whether or not I might hold my son up and slow him down.

Is he going to be dragging me up the mountain? Will I hold him back?

He was 25 and an avid hiker, used to covering long distances.

I was 57 and a crossfitter… Fit and athletic for short bouts, but totally unknown when it came to ultra-endurance.

I checked off the training, doing what I could to keep my nerves at bay, and before I knew it, we were on our way to the start line!

At the base of Blackcomb Mountain, toeing the start line alongside 300 others, I felt determined, but not confident.

The longest hike I had done in training was not only shorter than the distance it would take to Everest, but also significantly flatter.

This mountain was the real deal. This mountain was all new to me.

I knew I would try, but I just didn’t know if I would make it.

Whatever happens, happens. I just need to put it all out there.

The start horn blared, and we were off.

That first ascent was filled with such excitement and energy!

Dawn had warned me that no matter how much I planned and prepared, I wouldn’t truly know the right pace for me until I climbed that first time, so I nervously began, paying careful attention to my pace, and enjoying the novelty of my first climb up the ascent trail.

There were rocks to scramble over, steep staircases through the woods, spongey trails through thick cedar forest, amazing alpine clearings, and so much more… It truly might be the most beautiful trail in the world!

It helped me take my mind off the challenge.

Before I knew it, my son and I had finished our first ascent, and after the lengthy gondola ride back to the base, it was time for our first brand on the ascent board.

Even now, that first brand feels so memorable.

It was at that moment that I felt like I could calm down - I was climbing, I had made the summit, and I could keep going.

There was less to be anxious about now - just a mountain to climb, and 7 more ascents to burn into the board.

By the third ascent, the opening jolt of energy had definitely faded.

The finish is a loooong way away…

At that point, I was starting to tire out. Fatigue was setting in, legs were tired, the mountain was feeling hard, AND we weren’t even halfway finished!

I leaned on my determination.

The mountain wasn’t supposed to be easy. It was supposed to push me outside of my comfort zone.

It was supposed to help me grow.

I put my head down and kept climbing.

Our original plan was 6 ascents on Friday, a break overnight, and then the remaining 2 the following day.

Partway up our 5th ascent, late into Friday evening, I looked over nervously at my son.

I knew I couldn’t manage a 6th. My body screamed for rest, and I knew if I didn’t let it, I might never make the 8th ascent.

But I didn’t want to let my son down.

Step after step, we continued our climb through the ancient cedars, as I waited for an opportunity to broach the subject.

As the trees started to thin and the summit came into view, we finally talked about our plan, and to my relief, he brought it up first.

“Maybe we stop for the night?”

A wave of relief rolled over me. I wasn’t letting him down. We were both on the same page.

We both needed some rest after 5 grueling climbs.

Saturday morning, after a short sleep, we started back up the mountain for a sixth time, trying our best to beat the rain that was quickly rolling in.

At the top, there were a bunch of pastries, and although I rarely ate them, I felt them calling my name.

No sooner had I grabbed 3, than I’d inhaled them. Gone in an instant!

I went back for more, piling my plate high.

I couldn’t stop eating pastries - I was just knocking them back, one after another after another.

The sugar high that came with it was amazing!

I pushed the pace, I climbed fast, and at times, I started to open up a gap to my son who pleaded for us to slow down.

I was amped, but like all sugar highs, it eventually came crashing down, but not before propelling me up our 7th ascent.

Only 1 more to go.

That final ascent came in the most Canadian way possible: cold, wet, and snowy!

From almost the very beginning of our final climb, I was freezing. My body was soaked, my hands were shaking, and all I could think about was being done.

At each aid station, I’d stop and get a package of hand warmers, wrapping them around my hiking poles so I had something warm to hold onto.

I thought the final ascent would come easy, but instead, it had turned into the hardest challenge yet!

I didn’t want to let my son down, and I didn’t want to let myself down, so I kept going.

After what felt like hours in the freezing cold, and countless packages of hand warmers, we finally crested the summit for the final time.

It was overwhelming!

As flakes of white buzzed around me, I cried.

I had just completed something so incredibly hard - and I was so incredibly proud of myself and my son for doing it!

We had done it! Every single step, every single ascent, side by side.

The emotions of accomplishment swept over me, and I pulled on my Red Hat.

I could have quit when things got hard.

I could have stopped when I didn’t want to keep pushing.

I could have quit when my hands became so cold I could barely even grasp my poles.

But I didn’t.

There are a lot of things we do in our day-to-day life that we don’t want to. Hard things.

In running a business there are hard things. In competing at CrossFit there are hard things. In keeping up with the responsibilities of life, there are hard things.