Field Research in Grit: Lessons from 29029 Aspen

Eight months of training.
And my body still said, “not today.”

Few weeks back, my body failed something I had been training the past 8 months to execute.  Eight months. And the worse part was having to call home to inform the love of my life as well as our twins about my failure. 

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I signed up for an event known as 29029 where you climb the equivalent of Mt. Everest (29,029 feet) over the course of 36 hours. This is an event I’m familiar with having done it twice before; however, this time, the location was in Aspen Colorado and for once, my family would not be accompanying me.

Over the eight months, my alarm (which was set to Everest by Labyrinth) would wake me for 5am endurance sessions and in the afternoon I would have strength training. 

There were thousands of step-ups performed, rucks, hikes, long runs and even weekends where I spent up to 8 hours both days training.  I trained MORE for this event than any other event prior -- and that includes running ultras (100+ mile races). For nearly a year, I had two training sessions a day five days a week with at least one long endurance training session over the weekends.   

I felt prepared or as prepared as possible.  The only thing I couldn't control was getting to the event sooner than a day or two.  Just life. But I was prepared - mentally, physically and emotionally.

Especially since, arriving a couple of days before the event, I noticed the altitude didn’t seem to phase me at 8,000 feet for my morning runs or hikes around the area.

I should note:  I despise performing step-ups in a weighted vest… it’s the bane of my existence.

However, the day of the event as I climbed past 9.500 feet elevation on the first loop up the trail— an intense pain in my head emerged.  The scientist in me started to brainstorm the differentials as well as ways to alleviate the symptoms. 

I started to slow down my pace — bringing my heart rate down from 140bpm to 108bpm.  Pain persisted. I began the breathing techniques and concentrated on deep breaths and slow exhales.  Nothing. 

The more I climbed, the more the pain in my head intensified.  It felt as if the pain was radiating from my skull to the point I could literally feel my pulse pounding in my ears like imaginary headphones. 

I knew in that moment. Altitude was kicking my sass. 

With the next steps up the mountain, I was angry — at myself, at my body, at the way the event was playing out for me.  And yet with each person who passed me on the mountain, I knew I didn’t want to influence their event— so I plastered a smile on my face and wished them well (because a lot of folks passed me). 

By the time, I passed the second aid station, I could barely open my eyes due to the pain from the sunshine but I was determined to witness the view and be grateful to be there in the moment.  To see the amazing colors of the trees, the fog on the town below and the hawks flying above.  It was glorious… and I knew it would be my last time that weekend to see it as the best thing to do with altitude sickness was to get back to level ground. 

Sparing you a much longer version of this story, I managed to get to the top after stumbling only a handful of times and immediately hopped in the gondola to get back to base.  There I contacted my crew back home — in short choppy sentences because my head was still pounding, I blurted all my feelings.  Our daughter who was listening on speaker with the hubster said, 

“Mama, you didn’t fail. You did the best your body could in the moment.  If you didn’t get sick,  you’d still be on the mountain. It’s not a failure. There’s a lesson.”

 

Those words I needed to hear. Because to some it may looked like I failed.  To others they may have seen a woman giving up.  And actually, who the frick cares what they think -- in the moment, I did the absolute best I could.  That is enough. And there’s a lesson in that.

That’s the message I want to leave with you. 

Whatever you’re calling a failure right now—workout, launch, relationship—look for the lesson.  Do your best with the body, mind, and faith you’ve got today.  Then lift your chin and keep going.

Sure, some will still call it failure.  I call it field research in grit.  Because every time your plans fall apart, your character gets a workout. And that’s the real endurance event.

Grit + Gumption.

ALG  ♥️