Sarah King

A New Narrative

By 29029 Everesting

October 14^th, 2022

29029 was my first time participating in an organized ultra-endurance event. I’ve always been interested in endurance - both from a physical and mental perspective - but had never done anything organized in that realm.

It really piqued my interest because of how accessible it made what would be such a monumental endurance feat. I had seen some participant stories, and they were all incredibly inspiring people… but they were also normal, everyday people.

It made this incredible thing - something that takes such endurance to do - something that could be achieved by a normal person. I felt like somebody could start from zero and still climb to the Red Hat.

I wanted in.

I’m an entrepreneur. Navigating a start-up business through a global pandemic was incredibly hard. Self-care just wasn't a thing - it was all about doing what was needed to ensure this business I so passionately believe in survived.

2022 felt like the right time to do something for me. I was feeling exhausted, bordering on burnt out, and I didn’t know how to solve it.

When I thought about signing up for 29029, I knew it would force me to prioritize me. It would force me to think about self-care, nutrition, physical exercise, and spending time outdoors.

Am I going to look after myself and commit, or am I not?

I registered.

In March of 2022, I hit the wall. I was no longer bordering on burning out, I was burnt out. I took a month off work, which luckily coincided with the 29029 training plan kicking in.

That training plan felt like a lifesaver - it gave me something productive to focus on. It gave me structure - but achievable structure that wouldn’t compound the feelings of burnout I was experiencing. I just had to go out and walk.

Training gave me the space to step back and really evaluate things where I was at. It forced me to keep moving, but in a sustainable way.

Not only did it help me recover from burnout, it actually accelerated it. I was getting healthier, and I was working towards a goal that would be good for me personally and that meant it was also good for everyone around me. I felt motivated to make be making progress toward it.

After I arrived in Whistler, but well before the hiking began, something really significant took place for me. I walked up to the ascent boards to just take everything in. It was quiet with very few people around.

I came here with the goal to get to the top, and here I was, standing at the beginning.

At that moment I realized you don't always have to be stood at the top of the mountain to see how far you've come.

Just being there felt like such an achievement, and it was such a nice transition between the build-up of training and the actual climbing of the mountain.

I took a deep breath, and then it was time to climb.

My first and second ascents were in dreadful weather. It was everything: rain, freezing rain, snow… But it was okay. I just kept climbing.

My third ascent was the hardest. That might seem crazy because it was so early on, but it was during that ascent that I really got into my head.

The battery on my GPS watch had died, and with a goal of each ascent being no longer than 3 hours, I was blind to my timing. That blindness gave room for negative thoughts.

You’re behind. You’re moving too slowly. What on earth makes you think you can do this.

Those thoughts were incessant. They wouldn’t end, and I struggled through every step as my mind kept telling me I wouldn’t be able to finish.

When I reached the top, I learned I was still climbing faster than 3 hours, but I felt emotionally drained. As I stepped into the gondola I had this flood of emotion and one question kept going around in my mind: Why don't you believe in the things you're capable of?

I was on pace, yet the whole way up that ascent I'd doubted myself.

I cried the entire way on the long gondola ride down.

I exited the gondola towards the ascent board at the bottom of the mountain, looking broken. Colleen saw me, put away the mic, and came in to give me a big hug.

As she held me, she reminded me of Colin O’Brady’s speech - how we have to go through the 2s and 3s to experience the 10/10 moments.

“You’ve got a decision to make, Sarah. Are you going to go again?” she asked me.

Hearing Colleen ask that triggered something in me.

The choice to keep going was never in doubt for me. I knew I was going to keep going, but hearing Colleen ask triggered something else in me. It triggered me to ask if I was going to allow myself to believe that I could do it.

It was one thing to make the choice to physically continue, but it was an entirely other thing to believe in yourself. I was making the right choices, but I hadn’t been believing in myself yet.

It was time to figure it out

Can I do this?

F*** yes! I didn’t fly halfway around the world for nothing.

That moment was the turning point. I went from saying I’d just keep going, to saying I’d just keep going and believing in myself. That simple question from Colleen changed everything.

That third ascent was the defining moment for me. It transformed the way I saw myself - transformed what I thought I was capable of - and opened my eyes to a narrative I had been carrying through my life that didn’t serve me.

There’s a version of you that you put out into the world, and the version of you that you believe to be true inside. When there's a gap between those two things, it's exhausting because you're continually forcing yourself to believe the external facing version.

The version of me that I put out into the world was that of a business founder; an entrepreneur. I was somebody who was pushing the boundaries - and pushing my comfort zone.

But I never really believed that deep down. Deep down, I was carrying a narrative that all I was good at in life was failing, and no matter what successes proved otherwise, that narrative survived.

Until the third ascent of 29029 Whistler. That’s the ascent where the gap between the version of me I put out in the world and the version of me I believed to be true was closed.

You can’t hide anywhere on the mountain. You have to face yourself under challenging conditions. You have to look for the real you, because the mountain gives you no choice but to see the real you in the situation you’ve put yourself in.

And at 29029, that situation is a crazy experience climbing up a mountain multiple times.

When I finally reached the summit for the eighth and final time - when I finally got to pull on the Red Hat - it felt like a symbol of the commitment I had now made myself.

It cemented the version of me that I believed in, pulling that version in line with the version I put out in the world. I proved to myself I could stand on the top of a mountain - absolutely knackered, sure, but still on top - and say this is who I am now.