“Because it is there”
The alleged famous last words of the British climber George Mallory when he was asked why he was so determined to climb Mount Everest. In many ways, that logic is absurd, especially now that we know he died on his third attempt to summit. And yet, I totally get it. Of course he wanted to do it, simply because it was there. The challenge invites a response.
When a couple friends told me that there was a new race happening called Climbing for Change, I was all in: Challenge accepted. My own version of Everest.
I was immediately in love with the event and knew I wanted to be a part of its inaugural year. The challenge was to climb the equivalent elevation of Mount Robson, Mount Kilimanjaro, or Mount Everest, and you could compete as a soloist or on a team, and here’s the best part: the race was free to enter, and offered a fundraising platform where you could raise money for the charity of your choice. Since the event was right on the heels of Run On in support of Amy’s House, that was an easy pick for me to keep the fundraising momentum going to help families going through cancer treatments.
One problem. I wasn’t exactly well hill trained.
Meh. Lets see what happens.
The race was hosted at Rabbit Hill Ski Club. A place I have been many times before when we were first teaching our kids to ski, but as the sun rose on the very chilly morning of the race, the hill was looking like a whole different beast. A small but mightly group of us gathered around Luke, the race director, as he welcomed us to the first ever Climbing for Change. Our breath visible as we all shuffled to stay warm while he talked. The rules are simple. Climb until you reach the elevation of the mountain you set out to climb. Timing mats tracked laps, and each lap earned you about 66m of elevation, the only metric that mattered. Total estimated distance to reach the goal of Everesting was 100km (each lap was about 750m) and 134 laps. In the end, it was more like 80km, and over 138 laps. Not that I cared about distance. All I had my sights set on was reaching that elevation goal of 8848m of up.
Off we went, up and down the ski hill, the first few laps a welcome way to get warm and settle in to enjoy the beautiful late September day. A race format like this is a great way to make new friends, unlike a regular mountain ultra where you could end up alone for hours, each climb up the hill was a chance to chat with someone. I was also lucky enough to be well supported out there. With an aid station (with the BEST homemade treats) at the bottom of the hill, and a few friends who were gracious enough to help keep me well fueled and hydrated, I gave my husband a pass on his regular crewing role. He helped me get set up in the morning, and then came back in the early hours of the next day to shuttle me home, but other then that I was out there as a team of one.
There were only about 6 soloists and 2 teams that attempted the elevation of Everest. Everyone else out there was doing one of the smaller mountains. Energy was high for most of the day, we crawled like ants in a line, up, then back down, then again. As each new team member traded off a tired partner, they would push up the hill with fresh legs and I’m not gonna lie, I was pretty envious of that. Even though I felt great for most of the day, the reality is, this is a really tough challenge and I was getting tired. I had a few moments where I felt pretty sorry for myself, but I practiced something I work on with clients all the time; when you feel that big emotion coming, don’t be afraid of it, sit with it, turn towards it, and allow it to move on, and get back to doing whatever it is that will get you where you want to go. When the thought of how many laps I had left to complete felt overwhelming, I leaned into that fear. I recognized that of course something that big was going to feel scary, and got back to doing it anyway.
The smell of BBQ wafted up the hill around lunch time so I paused for a burger, a favourite mid race snack, and just enjoyed those sunny hours when energy was high.
I spent some time chatting with Luke, the race director and fellow Everest soloist. He shared that he has a vision to create Everesting events like this all over the country, facilitating climbing dreams and fundraising goals at the same time. Over the course of the event, his first one ever, we raised over $40 000 for 24 different charities. Can you imagine how much more will be raised for charity as he grows this event?
Don’t you love it when the spark of an idea turns into something so big? I can’t wait to see the impact Climbing for Change is going to have all across the country.
As the sun started to lose its power, we were given a stunning golden hour, the river valley all vibrant yellows in September light. The hill began to feel a bit quieter as a few teams and soloists doing the smaller mountains reached their goal and packed up for the day.
By dusk, a DJ sets up at the bottom of the hill, a jarring shift from the peace of sunset as the lights and dance mixes keep us entertained for the next several hours. Up and down, up and down. This time with bass and catchy sing-a-longs. Running through the night in ultras has a similar feel to those young and reckless party nights. That same feeling that you’re out making memories while the rest of the world sleeps, completely oblivious, missing out on a night for the books.
But noise bylaws had the music shut off by 11 pm and the mood shifted again. This time to a quiet acceptance.
Up and down.
Most people had finished their race goal and gone home by now. It was just us Everesters left, constantly calculating how many laps remained.
The last Everest team finished around midnight, and a few of the other soloists had disappeared, accepting a DNF. Understandable. This is a tough challenge.
It was down to four of us, quietly gaining precious meters on the climbs, grimacing at our trashed quads on the descents. Sometimes chatting, mostly nodding as we passed each other under the glow of the ski hill lights.
This is my favourite part of a race. When things get quiet. Gritty.
Just the sound of your breath. A quiet mind.
It started to rain a bit and the hill grew a bit slippery.
Brad finished first. packed up and disappeared after wishing me luck on my last few laps.
Luke and the other soloist sat at the bottom, wrapped in blankets to take a break with some other friends who came out to cheer. I could hear the friends joking around, laughing louder, and it felt out of place to where I was at. I was ready to be done.
With a very underwhelming finale, I stopped half way up the hill, and stopped my watch when it finally read 8857 meters. Yes. I did a few extra meters just to be sure I reached the full height of Mount Everest.
Luke clapped. His friends cheered. Kirk showed up just as I descended that hill for the last time. Drove me home after nearly 20 hours of hill repeats.
So what was all that for? I dunno. But I love that thanks to the support of our friends, Brad and I raised a couple thousand more for Amy’s House, and now I can say I climbed the equivalent of sea level to the highest point on earth, and back down, just cause it’s there, (and because I can).
Run me Wild 