Tags
29029, endurance events, Everest, hiking, jesse itzler, Seven Summits, Snowbasin, Utah
Foreword I
I have barely posted here for months, and the biggest reason for that has been my laser focus on something that no one but my husband has known about since early December of last year. For those few souls who have missed my words, here are more than 5000 of them crammed into one post for you to enjoy! (Or skim, or skip …)
Foreword II
How can I possibly explain this folly?
There was nothing – nothing – I liked less than walking up a long, steep hill. I hated to breathe hard, I hated to sweat, and I hated the feeling of being physically and mentally uncomfortable. I do love to hike, though, and I do love to stand on top of mountains, so I have suffered through these grueling, awful ascents for years. I walked slowly and breathed hard, but my modus operandi was to just keep moving. I was almost always slower than other people going uphill, but fortunately, hiking involves plenty of flat, rolling, and downhill sections, where I walk quite briskly, so it has been hard for others (and even me, to some extent) to tell that I completely sucked at walking uphill. I have hiked very, very high (to almost 18,000’) and I have hiked for a very long time (almost 3 straight weeks), but in the midst of those achievements and others, I have been 100% miserable and cranky with myself on every long, difficult climb.
December 4, 2018
So, what do I decide to do when I read an article about an event that involves walking up 2310 very steep vertical feet in the middle of August in high-altitude Utah? But wait, let me expand. I was not just going to walk up that steep hill and then mosey down a few hours later and have a beer. I was going to try to walk up Snowbasin Mountain thirteen (that’s 13) times over a 36-hour period for a grand total of 29,029 vertical feet. In the debut of this event in Utah last summer, only 35% of the participants went all the way. And they probably never truly loathed or were bad at walking uphill. Oh, and I’m going to pay someone thousands of dollars to make this happen.
To put this in perspective, event founder Jesse Itzler told us that elevating one’s heart rate and shredding one’s leg, core, and even arm muscles for 36 hours is like running nine average-speed marathons back-to-back, or doing 2.5 Ironman triathlons in a row. I’ve never done more than a 10K race. When you reach a normal cruising altitude in a jet, look down; that’s the height we are going to have to climb. On my most ambitious hiking days, I’d maybe go up 4000 feet. When I decide to finally test my limits, could I not be a little more reasonable?
I read the article at 7:30 am in Outside Online and almost impulsively sign up immediately. I send the link to my husband, J, and write “I want to do this!” I am so pumped. The year of the event will contain a big birthday for me, and I have been feeling a need to show myself I can still cut it, to go BIG, to escape the limiting thoughts and negative self-talk that have consumed me in the last few years. I click the Chat button and bombard Matt, VP of Sales, with questions. I head out for the day, brain afire, and return afterward and call Matt to talk more. I crunch numbers, I read reviews and testimonials online, and I get more fired up.
This opportunity to face many of my personal fears and weaknesses should be my 60th birthday present to myself, I decide. And the significance of the number 29029 cannot be overstated. This is the height of Mount Everest – my dream, my fantasy, my obsession for years and years. (Surely you’ve noticed my header photo for the last five years!) I’d like to believe that I could still climb Mount Everest, and I still dream of it regularly, but at my age, with no alpine climbing experience, and no $50,000+ to spare, I have accepted realistically that this is not going to happen for me. The 29029 event lines up so beautifully with the biggest dream I’ve ever had for myself, and it now seems like a bargain basement way to test my physical and mental limits.
December 5, 2018
I’m still high, but I have to face the fact that I probably do not have the ability to do any of this. I have another conversation with Matt. I read more, calculate more, debate more, and then I decide to see what I can even do as a baseline. I try walking the length of one summit hike on the highest ramp on my treadmill (not even close to the real thing), after a full tennis match to simulate tiredness, and then I do all the calculations to account for altitude and slope and the necessary ride back down after each ascent. I figure I’ll need at least two hours per summit, and there are thirteen summits to do. I have 36 hours total, and I will need 26 hours just to walk it all with no major breakdowns. That leaves me with ten hours to sleep, rest, eat, pee, and deal with any screaming muscles, joints, bones, and mental collapses. I can do that!
December 6, 2018
But have I discounted the pain of a real climb? I get on the Stairmaster at my gym the next day and make it about 8.5 minutes before I feel my steps are shaky. I am breathing hard and sweating; I usually stop before this happens (typed sheepishly, but true). I get off and decide this event is likely not for me. Thousands of bucks to do something for 36 hours that I just hated passionately for 8.5 minutes?
Later that afternoon, I realize I can’t give up the whole event just because I am unlikely to finish it or even do well at it. I just wanna be with these people! Colin O’Brady (first solo trans-Antarctica trekker and all-around endurance badass AND exemplary human) has done this twice! Olympic sprinters have participated. NFL players. Duke’s Coach K has had Jesse Itzler speak to his teams. It’s a hell of a lot of money to “just be with these people,” but … can I perhaps lower my expectations? Can I just train as hard as I possibly can and go and do whatever I can? They say it’s about “you versus you,” not a race, and I can buy into that mentality.
December 7, 2018
I tell Matt I am wavering. He sends some testimonials by others – a woman who does the whole thing in Vermont, a different woman who doesn’t make it and still extols the event, a guy who trains his butt off (literally; he loses 45 pounds) and gets it done. Another guy who goes hoping to summit once and makes it up five times (and is thrilled). I am reinvigorated. Maybe I should go to just be inspired by all these people and do whatever I can.
Or maybe I really can train enough to do it all?! F— it – I’m in! I don’t even wait for Matt to respond to my last email; I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and push the Buy button. Holy crap; what have I done? I justify. I can get some money back if I withdraw by late February. Won’t I know by then if this training business simply can’t get me ready after years of half-hearted cardio?
April, 2019
Flash forward to the start of our training program. I’ve spent the last four months training for the training program. Sad but true. I’ve gone from ten minutes on the Stairmaster to thirty. I am regularly running hill repeats and trudging uphill on an inclined treadmill. I can now run about three miles at a conversational pace and have found my latest high-altitude hike in Bhutan quite manageable. Easy, in fact, which makes me feel much more confident. And now the real work begins.
April-August, 2019
I’ve become a running fool. My running shoes go with me everywhere. Georgia, Pennsylvania, Northern California, Boston, Arkansas. I run four, then six, then eight miles at a time. I run five miles to my health club, do six hours of stepmill and treadmill workouts indoors, then run the five miles back home. I experiment with on-the-go hydration and nutrition, seeing what I digest well and what upsets my stomach.
This is all well and good, but will it get me up a steep, steep mountain thirteen times in a row? All day and through the night? At 9000 feet of elevation? At up to a 47% incline? Nothing I can do will truly prepare me for this event, I feel sure.
Our trainer Brent says, “the bigger the base, the higher the peak,” and this becomes my mantra. The more miles I put on my legs and feet now, the more ready they will be to go high and far in late August. At the same time, he urges us to “train where you are.” There is an online group for participants, and many are wearing weighted vests and spending hours at a time on a stepmill or a real mountain. We don’t even have hills in Houston. Some are organizing outings to the event venue. Others are doubling the mileages and times. But I plug away at my own pace, trusting in Brent’s reasonable philosophy. At my age, I also have to think about preventing injury; what good will I be at the event if I go overboard now?
Mid-summer brings certain facts into focus. One moment of truth is a grim reality check: after a one-hour run on June 4, in stifling heat and humidity, I try to do the required hill repeats and then my hip mobility exercises, and simply cannot finish them. The incline at my small Houston hill is 40-60%, about the level of the toughest slopes at Snowbasin, and I think I will die if I have to keep going … and this is after only 1.5 hours of exercise. How am I going to repeat that infinitely longer hill for 36 hours? Really, I am a fool to think I can rack up all thirteen summits in just a few months from now. Perhaps I can crunch out five ascents … maybe, maybe go up seven times?
Then again, after I get in the car and come home, I think about how OK I feel after fifteen minutes, and that I might actually be able to go out and start again. Time will tell. But I will need to push myself a lot harder, and that’ll be tough given that I am feeling wasted, hungry, and tired all the time.
A month out from the event, I experiment with the advanced slanted treadmill at my gym. I set the machine at a 20% incline right from the start and walk up 2310 feet in 67 minutes at a fairly comfortable pace and heart rate. If only the event could replicate this! At this pace, I’d have time to ride back down and even take a short rest before turning back up the mountain. Of course, 20% is only the average incline of the real mountain, and the real mountain also has gravel, rocks, boulders, straw, and uneven earth. It has blazing hot days and 40-degree nights. It has sections at double these slopes … okay, so maybe I can still hope to finish in less than twice this time. A two-hour ascent will still let me take a few short breaks, but there goes any chance to actually sleep at night.
By the end of July and into early August, we are at the peak of our training. We have three straight weekends of multi-workout days – days when we run or hike or cross-train for eight, ten, or twelve hours straight. This has become my weekend life, but I refuse to fall into the endurance training rabbit hole. One day I get up at 5 am so I can get the training done and still throw a dinner party for visiting relatives that night. We stick to our plans for dinner with friends at other times, and I attack my food like I’ve just burned it and a few more days’ worth of calories off beforehand (I have).
I feel strong! As I go into the taper weeks, J and I head west to hike in Idaho and Utah for almost a week before my event. I take it easy on my hikes, and I watch my footsteps like I never have before. No turned ankles allowed right now. No sore knees or hips, please. At the end of the week, J drops me at the site. I am a nervous wreck. Ready physically, but how will I ever know if I have the mental fortitude to climb up, up, and up, over and over again, all day and all night for the next day and a half.
I listen to the pre-event speeches, tucking tidbits of information and advice away for tomorrow, settle into my tent for a night of tossing and turning, and set my alarm for 4 am. Tomorrow at 5:45, we will strap on our headlamps and start up the mountain.
***
We start at 6 am, in the dark, with headlamps illuminating only the rocky patches of ground beneath us and the already-dusty trail shoes of the hiker in front of us. Perhaps this is good; we have seen the first one-tenth of the hill from the base, and it is beyond daunting. At about a 47-degree slope, the pitch makes our heartrates jump and our calves scream from minute one. When we see the first sign, meant to be helpful but certainly not, it says we have climbed a mere 500 feet. Most of us stop for a breather, a drink and a few hundred calories about 300 vertical feet later, at Aid Station 1. Taking care of our hydration and nutrition will be critical in the next day and a half as we burn thousands of calories and sweat out our water and salt stores with every ascent.
In spite of my careful plan to hike only at my own comfortable pace, I reach the first summit quite a bit faster than I had calculated. As I take the 15-minute ride back down to the base, I feel good. Strong and optimistic. I’ve just saved myself a good 45 minutes over my estimates, I calculate – time later for a nap or a real meal or a mental or physical breakdown. “Stay ahead of the clock,” we were advised. No time to gloat now; I need to keep moving and not even think about those extra minutes I’ve stockpiled.
Getting off the gondola and heading back to the starting chute is an eye-opening reminder that this is not going to be a walk in the woods. Our group of 220 hikers has spread out, and as I approach the board where we brand each ascent into the wood, I don’t see anyone I know, so I trudge to the starting line alone and begin to labor uphill on my own. It is light enough now to see, and I soon realize that the first 750 feet of this hill is perhaps the longest and most difficult stretch of all. It’s a sobering discovery; every time I start over, I’m going to have to find the will to walk through serious discomfort and exhaustion.
But Jesse and other speakers have addressed just this. “Be where your feet are,” we were told. I need to think about nothing but the next step – not the section above this, not the last hike where a steep jumble of boulders almost caused me to tip over backward, certainly not the fact that I have finished only one hike out of thirteen. One-two-one-two, click with the right pole, clack with the left. Breathe calmly; don’t outpace your breath. For me, a key will be to not stop between stations. Others are walking faster than I am, huffing and puffing, churning uphill past me. Minutes later, I am passing them as they bend over their poles, catching a breath, stretching a calf muscle. Already I feel a Zen-like calm, an autopilot rhythm that is propelling me up the mountain.
Last night a few speakers suggested we not put in earphones, letting our own thoughts and the nature around us fill our heads. This was heresy, I thought at the time; my music and my GPS watch have been my security blankets for months of training. Now I realize I have forgotten to push the Workout button on my watch for the first lap and the early part of my second. But by now I know my breath and heart rate patterns; I don’t think I’m exceeding a safe zone, and somehow the lack of music really IS keeping me focused on my feet.
And so go laps 2, 3, and 4, which I decide to do without any real breaks even though my pre-event plan was to stop for lunch after three climbs. Our rewards come in two ways: ascent count and a summit count. We are going for all Seven Summits, and it will take these first four ascents to get me to the equivalent of Mount Kosciuszko (Australia’s highest mountain), the lowest of them all. When I descend after lap 4, I not only sear my fourth symbol into the scoreboard, but I receive a checkmark on the back of my white bib for my first summit.
I take a break from the afternoon heat and sun, stripping off several layers, eating a brief lunch, and switching out my socks. So far I am immune to many of the afflictions my fellow hikers are experiencing: blisters, chafing, altitude headaches, nausea, or intestinal problems. I attribute my early hardiness to hiking experience; I am used to using poles to push my way up a steep slope, my calves and Achilles tendons are accustomed to being stretched this way for long periods of time, and I am very consciously focusing on balanced hydration and getting non-irritating calories into my system.
I head back out for two more rounds, hoping to finish by dinnertime and before it gets dark again. Lap 5 is like most of the ones before it, but by ascent number 6, I am feeling a crash coming on. It’s becoming harder to take a deep breath, even while stopping at the aid stations, and my inner thighs are cramping whenever I stop. I am alternately hot and shivery cold, and I feel certain that my next sip of an electrolyte drink will make me throw up. Slow down, I coach myself; I’ve stayed ahead of the clock all day so far, and I can afford a very slow lap. “Just keep moving,” we’ve been told, “the tents and the lodge are your enemy.”
Somehow, I plow my way uphill for a couple of hours, my slowest hike yet, and collapse into the gondola. I’ve been on the mountain for over twelve hours now, the longest sustained heavy physical activity I have ever experienced. I am thankfully alone on this lift run as I moan and whine like a blubbery child in my own little capsule the whole way down. I think back to my initial goal for the event: 7 laps – one more than half – and still more than doable if I get a good night’s sleep and wake up able to locomote.
I stagger into the lodge at the bottom and drink good, plain, cold water. I eat the blandest real food I can find and settle into a chair before I give up for the night. People are headed to their tents for a nap or a full sleep, with a number of my early hiking buddies saying they no longer feel compelled to go the full way to Everest. I am feeling the same, but somehow I think I have some reserves left today that my friends do not. I sit for longer than normal and catch the eye of one of our coaches. He has run marathons and competes as a triathlete, and I pick his brain about the body’s ability to spring back from a low point like the one I am in. We talk for a few minutes, and when he leaves, I decide to get up and try one night hike; the HQ team has been saying that everyone should try one, and at this hour I’m sure there will be people on the mountain for me to walk with.
I walk stiffly to the start line and look around. The base area is quiet; a group hike has left about thirty minutes ago, too late for me to catch up. No one else wandering around looking for a companion? Nope, this is going to be a solo run; I’ve done a few of them, and in many ways, I’ve liked them better. The less chatting I do, the more I fall into a rhythmic trance and the less I feel the toil of my legs and lungs. But I soon realize this is a different animal being all alone on a huge mountain in pitch darkness. And speaking of animals, I hear noises. I hope that’s the hoot of an owl and not the howl of a coyote. A triangular flag marking the trail edge licks its tongue at me as my headlamp illuminates its flickering edges. Every stick on the trail seems to slither like a rattlesnake as I get ready to place my feet down over and over again.
I want to go slowly to keep my tired lungs under control, and I need to be deliberate with my footsteps among the stones and – higher up – boulders all over the path. At the same time, I want to race to the next aid station to see other humans, to get close enough to others who can hear me scream if something should happen to me. I crest the ridiculous hill that takes me about a fifth of the way to the top and start to see the lights and hear the thumping rap music that’s been playing at the rest stop all day. I glance at my watch and am startled to see I’ve come up here as fast as I did on the very first fast lap, and this after my near-complete meltdown at the base a short time ago.
I take great encouragement from that and after a two-minute rest I’m back on my feet and starting the long 1.25 miles to the next station. I’m practically humming now, feeling wonderfully resilient and sturdy. I high-five and fist-bump the volunteers at the next waypoint and keep on trucking. I reach the summit under a star-studded black velvet sky and ride down in pure elation. I’m more than halfway done, I’ve reached the summit height of Mount Vinson (Antarctica), and I’m feeling strong and capable.
The roller coaster ride is continuing, though, and by the time I’m at the bottom contemplating one more ascent, I’m back in a trough. My neck hurts from looking down at the path for hours at a time. My upper arms are starting to ache from the pole use, and my legs are beginning to feel rubbery. I find a friend who wants to keep going, and we fall into step in silence. Just having her nearby makes me feel better, and knowing that this fit young woman twenty to thirty years my junior is on the same lap as me makes me feel proud of myself. We struggle uphill together, chatting briefly in the aid stations, and finally separating briefly as we each tackle the final rocky slopes on our own. Mount Elbrus (Russia) – check.
“I’m done for a while,” I tell her on the ride down. I’m not only physically tired but I’m mentally fried, and I’ve got to rest my head and neck more than anything else. “Not me,” she says, “I feel like I’ll be better off just going all night.” It’s after 1 am, and I stumble to my tent, frozen to the bone. My teeth are chattering uncontrollably, and my legs feel disconnected from my torso. I slip as quietly as I can into my tent. My tent mates are slumbering as I lower myself to the edge of my bed, wincing at the pain in my screaming quads, and peel off my filthy clothing. I re-dress in tomorrow’s hiking togs and take a futile stab at cleaning my dust-covered feet with a wet wipe before crawling under the covers. I’d hoped for more than a few hours of sleep, but it’s almost 2 am by the time I set my alarm for 4 and try to relax.
I must have slept because the alarm startles me, and I rise quickly to my feet to stave off any attempt to lie back down. No contact lenses going in at this hour; I throw on my glasses and hat, bundle up in a few more layers, pack my waistpack, and unzip the tent flaps in the chilly pre-dawn air. I walk alone to the base, already calculating my chances of finishing. I’m on the murderous first hill by 4:30 am, and by the time the sun has begun to lighten the eastern skies, I am already on the way down. I barely remember the climb at all; half-awake and fuzzy-headed, I have cranked out lap 9 like an automaton and picked up two more of the Seven Summits – Denali and Kilimanjaro – with little pain at all. I catch a glimpse of my nighttime friend in the lodge; on the lap after I left her, she pulled a groin muscle and is done, joining the scores of others who have dropped out of the event for all sorts of reasons.
Aconcagua is another quickie. I’m astonished at how awake I am now, and I turn out one of my fastest laps since early the first day. I’m beginning to visualize snagging all of these peaks, and I alternate between wanting to laugh out loud and sob. This is not a situation I imagined. Me? One of the oldest participants here, still walking strong, with no injuries or complaints of any sort beyond bodily exhaustion. I’m highly emotional as I get my last red check mark on my back, knowing that I only have to walk up two more times before I get the coveted red bib, the outward sign to all that I’m on my last ascent.
The hubris! Did I celebrate too soon? Each climb is no joke, and the euphoria I feel as I climb into the gondola at the top quickly dissipates as the truth sets in back at the bottom. “Only” two more until I get the last bib? Umm, that’s three more total, almost a third of what I’ve already done. And there will be no more peaks to bag between Aconcagua and Mount Everest; I’ll have to take comfort in simply branding my board each time I do one more lap.
I don’t remember ascents 11 and 12 well at all. I am slowing down, but only by about two minutes or so with each new climb. The red bib is nigh, and once again I feel an outpouring of emotion combined with some sort of hysteria, surely brought on by sheer exhaustion mixed with jubilation. I am truly filthy at this point, and I’m down to a sleeveless tank, trying not to torch my arms, neck, and face as I climb higher and higher into the thinner air. I’m getting reports of people dropping out, oxygen masks being applied, knees being wrapped, and stomachs being emptied at the top of the mountain.
Although I have not traditionally been good at blocking out negatives or dealing with pain, I plod on and before I know it, I have arrived at the next-to-biggest moment of the weekend. The event announcer sees me disembark the gondola for the 12th time, doing a herky-jerky walk back toward the starting chute. I can barely extend my legs by now, my limbs heavy with lactic acid, my muscles aching and tight, my feet clenched in my trail shoes. An event volunteer ties the red bib onto me, wishes me well, and tells me she’ll see me in a red finisher’s hat when I get back down. It sounds so imminent, but the minute I enter that chute for the final time, I know this will be the hardest lap of all. Luckily for me, I have plenty of time, at least four hours to do what has never taken me more than two, even on my one very slow climb.
I try to enjoy that last ascent, pausing to snap (terrible) photos of the signs and a bit of the scenery. It’s impossible to capture the intensity of the slopes or the feel of the loose stones under my feet; I will never be able to truly convey the energy of the aid stations with their upbeat music and encouraging volunteers. I chat with everyone I see on that final lap, but I find myself alone and utterly drained on my final trudge up the relentlessly uphill fire road at the top of the mountain. As I pass the last ¼-mile marker, I see a hiker twirl slowly as if in a ballet and then crumple onto the gravel. I rush ahead to offer help or to send a medic back down, and only then do I fully absorb what I have done – climb just over 29,029 vertical feet, the height of Mount Everest from sea level, a feat that only 139 of us would eventually accomplish that weekend. From what I understand, I am the oldest woman to finish.
Of course, I’m tremendously proud of my effort over the 30-some hours it took me to complete this challenge, but I’m also unendingly grateful for the chance to have even done the training and, as I expected from sign-up day, to have the opportunity to spend a weekend with the kind of people who want to see what their own Everest looks like. Even those who did not make all thirteen summits fulfilled certain goals for themselves, and there was not a cynical or disappointed heart in the house that evening. I have no need to replicate my journey here, but I am a believer in the mission of the challenge. “I am strong. I am capable.” Colin O’Brady’s words to himself on his Antarctic crossing ring though my head. I have a very different notion of what I am made of and what I can do in this world. I have battled a real, physical mountain, and I have owned it. Time will tell what I make of that on the other hills of my life.
Alien Resort said:
Glad you did it. For me, reading about it is enough.
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lexklein said:
That is a common reaction! And it’s also one of the reasons I did not tell anyone about my quest, not even my own children or my parents. It just sounds nuts. And it is, and I loved every minute of it!
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Sue Slaght said:
Lexie I devoured every word and am completely thrilled for you! What an inspiration you are to those of us well into the second half of the game of life. I can not even imagine the grit and determination not only to do the climb but all of the training! Bravo to you!
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lexklein said:
Sue, you’re so sweet! It was such a long post – one I wrote mostly for posterity – but I’m glad you found it enjoyable to read. I’m so thrilled with what I urged my body and mind to do over the last nine months.
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awtytravels said:
Lexi, this is GREAT! You’ve been fantastic and I absolutely adored this post. My favourite of the year, worth the wait. Well done, you’re well and truly an inspiration. Fabrizio
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lexklein said:
Wow – thanks, Fabrizio! It was a huge thrill to end as I did, and the training itself will somehow, strangely, always be a very fond memory. I hope to keep much of it up, although the super long runs and 12-hour days are not going to be part of the deal!
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Lisa Dorenfest said:
I remember our time in Madagascar discussing your dream to ascend Everest. I believed you could do it then. Do you believe it now too?
I was bowled over with inspiration reading your story. Exactly what I needed right now as I finish my current ‘summit’ only to find I have another mountain to climb :-). I will think of your night hike every time I feel that I can’t go on …and also your wisdom to listen to your body/mind when a well-deserved (in your case two hours) break is needed to keep going.
I hope you will consider syndicating this story to other outlets (e.g. NYT, WaPo). It is that good. Read it twice. Going to read it again now.
PS – you look seriously fit!
PSS – Come visit (again)
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lexklein said:
Do I believe I could climb the real Everest now? Physically and mentally, probably yes, as crazy as that sounds. I learned that I really can be a badass if I want! But I’ll never do it. I like this alternative for all sorts of reasons, especially with the absolute mayhem that is happening on that poor mountain these past few years. Colin O’Brady asks people young and old to think about “What’s your Everest?” and I love the mountain as metaphor for taking chances and pushing oneself. This was a huge learning experience for me, and spending all that money and time on the “real” Everest is no longer necessary or even appealing.
PS I could not help but become quite fit!
PPS I will work on the next visit!
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Lisa Dorenfest said:
I love how your Everest longings have been satisfied outside of the fracas that has descended upon The Mountain. You really did it one better. Could you have had those solo moments ascending Everest? I think not. To be alone on the trail a night is both terrifying and exhilarating. Your making me think ‘solo circumnavigation’ although I’d miss my crabby Captain and don’t think I’d want to cook or repair the engine
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lexklein said:
Oh, that gave me a good belly laugh! (The part about the captain, not about you soloing anything because you’ve got the goods to do it!)
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restlessjo said:
Lexie, you are stark, staring bonkers, and I take my hat off to you! I have not the remotest desire to accomplish what you have done, but heck, am I proud of you and impressed 🙂 🙂
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lexklein said:
Jo, I laughed so hard at your comment! It IS a crazy, ridiculous, not-easily-understood challenge, but sometimes I have the urge to make big, bold moves, and this year was it. I’d been feeling soft and unmotivated in certain ways, and this was a very nice kick in the pants! 🙂
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shoreacres said:
I have a lot of thoughts about all this: most unformed, and most not worth posting — at least, right now. Suffice it to say this explains a number of oblique comments you’ve made over the past year that have left me wondering just what in the world you were up to, and leaves me now with only one question: what’s next for Lexie?
Above all else, I understand the initial impulse. It’s the same sort of impulse that led me to quit a secure job in 1990, fly to Hawaii, sail the Pacific to Alaska on a 65′ boat, and eventually come home and ask, “What next?” I suspect your answer will be quite different from mine, but having the chance to answer that question only comes to those who are willing to loose the lines or start the climb: congratulations!
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lexklein said:
I’m sure at least a few of those unformed thoughts involve incredulity that anyone would even want to do such an insane thing! For me, it was the ultimate answer to so much seeking in recent years, just as perhaps your sailing trip was to you in 1990. (Of course, I feel like your impulse was even more serious and admirable; you invested so much more time and money, and what you gave up was much more than my sacrifice.)
But what next? I wish I had an idea. I do know that the training was deeply satisfying and that I want to keep at it in at least an abbreviated form. I think I also learned about things that are NOT as valuable to me, things I gave up reluctantly to train so much, but now feel not as much compulsion to restart. I’ve rejiggered my priorities at the same time that I prepared for an event that suited me to a T. It was a win-win-win for me; what more could I ask as I enter a new decade of life?!
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shoreacres said:
There’s one of the keys, right there: discovering what isn’t important to us is as important as knowing what is. With my tongue somewhat tucked into my cheek, I’ll tell you what I said to someone near by 70th birthday: with so few years left to me, I have no more time for the stupid, the irrelevant, or the boring. Amazing how much detritus eliminating those can clear out!
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lexklein said:
Oh, yeah, that’ll clean out quite a bit!
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Kate@VanhaTaloSuomi said:
Brava Lexie- Brava!!
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lexklein said:
Thanks, Kate! I’m super happy with what I did, but I’m feeling a let-down this week after. Your words are picking me back up!
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Lisa Dorenfest said:
Totally get that
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badfish said:
I’ve missed blogging, and blog buddies. I’ve missed you more than most. This is just a wonderful story. Took my breath away…more than once. Made me want to get back to the blog.
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lexklein said:
It would be soooo awesome to see you back on your blog! You can follow my lead and post when the whim hits and not on any kind of schedule or for any reason beyond your own satisfaction. I loved seeing your comment, and it means a lot to me that you are still out there reading my (infrequent) stuff! Hope life is good wherever you are (back in school by now?).
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badfish said:
Retired. Flight (Business Class…can’t sleep in airline seats) to Bali next week for a month of nothing and daily $7 massages. Shipped my stuff to Hawaii, flying there after Bali.
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Lexklein said:
Oh, wow! Wishing you the best, BF!
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Green Global Trek said:
I am EXHAUSTED after reading this and also EXHILIRATED for you!!! And SO SO impressed. You certainly have come back with a huge bang!
Your sheer determination, focus, ,enormous effort and drive, and persistence…. is REMARKABLE. I am SO SO impressed by what you have achieved. WELL DONE! BRAVO Lex.
Honestly, this should be made into a movie. I read it all word by word, holding my breath hoping you would be okay and reach your goal and your dream and by golly, you freaking DID IT!!!!
WOWOWOW!!!!!
Beaming with pride for you.
Peta
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lexklein said:
You make a girl feel almost as good as the event itself! You are so nice, Peta, to say all these uplifting things. In some ways, I do feel like I did something absolutely amazing, but in other ways, I look back at it as being much easier than I thought it would be. The mind is a powerful tool, and for the first time in my life, I learned how to focus it on one task and one task only and to tune out any negative thoughts or feelings. The physical part just followed. My old(er) body surely was tired, but it was like I just willed it along for the last half of those summits. Thanks again for your excitement for me!
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Green Global Trek said:
I think that, looking back is always easy! You definitely did something nothing short of fucking incredible. All of it. And yes you are one hellova badass! I am forwarding your post as inspiration to two of my dearest friends whom I think will really enjoy your story. And as Lisa wrote I do think you should send it out to magazines, or online women sites, as many would enjoy reading this.
I read it aloud to Ben, who was overwhelmed to say the least. Something like “oh my god that IS insane. Wow, impressive!!! ” The hiking at night, the training, the lack of sleep… He wrote a comment but for some reason it seems to have vanished into thin air.
Peta
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lexklein said:
I am still smiling ear to ear at your comments. Yesterday I was feeling pretty tired as the last week finally caught up with me, and I tried to imagine doing just one lap last night. And you’re right, it was pretty fucking incredible that I pulled this off! I was in a zone, and it sure is nice to know I can get to a place like like with my mind and body. Thanks for making me feel the excitement all over again!
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lievelee said:
Amazing and very inspirational. I ‘only’ made it to Base Camp Everest last October, but it is an achievement I am really proud of. And I too have just celebrated the big ‘6 0’… Age is less important than preparation and, of course, good health. Any other challenges ahead? Or taking a well deserved rest first?
Lieve
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lexklein said:
I saw your post on your EBC trek recently! I did it in 2012, and there are some parts of that hike that were much tougher (the altitude above Pangboche, I’d say) and parts that were much easier (the lower number of miles each day and the more gradual slope). I like long, multi-day or multi-week hikes a lot, so doing this whole thing back to back through day and night was so different. I agree that age was the least important determiner of success. I was really prepared physically, I’m in very good health in general, and somehow I brought all my mental focus together for those hours. It taught me a lot about the power we hold in our minds! As for the next challenge … I’m not sure! I know I need one, though! How about you?
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lievelee said:
Not sure what my next challenge will be and not sure whether it will still involve hiking mountains or even hills. But I am definitely not ready to sit still. I told my consultant: quality above quantity anytime. My short term goal will be getting my finances back on track after my very long (unintended) break from work. But I am off to Vietnam in about 10 days to start a 6 month teaching contract. Hooray!! Teaching a classroom full of 5 or 6 year olds is a challenge too… but I love it. After that I have some seafaring plans on hold (a 6 month trip) and for that I will need to get some qualifications… apparently I will be delegated with tying up the boat, so I better get that reef not under my belt.. And get to grips with the alien language of yachting – I don’t yet know my starboard from my port side… I can see some fun brewing!!!
Lieve
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Yeah, Another Blogger said:
Way to go, Lexie! Reading thru the story, I got the sense that you weren’t going to finish the climbs.
It’s a really tough feat that you did. I’m very impressed.
Neil S.
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lexklein said:
Thanks, Neil! There were times I got the sense that I wasn’t going to get the whole way to Everest either. I have to say my doubt was smaller than I expected, though, once I got going. Staying in the moment was a powerful tool, one I did not even know I had in my toolbox. Hoping to use my newly discovered strength in other parts of my life!
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The Snow Melts Somewhere said:
Happy you conquered that mountain, and I’d have been surprised if you hadn’t. Lovely photo, you are so beautiful and radiant. I like walking and hiking, but mountaineering isn’t for me!
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lexklein said:
I had that faith for a while, then I lost it, then I got it back! You are quite kind to say anything nice about my post-finish appearance. I rarely post photos of myself, as you know, but I just decided WTH and I put up a grubby, spectacled shot of myself because that’s the person who finished off that mountain! 🙂
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The Snow Melts Somewhere said:
Well you look very glamorous there with that perfect smile 🙂
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lexklein said:
Well, thank you! 🙂
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Amy Sampson said:
Holy hell! You’re my new hero! Congrats!
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lexklein said:
Thanks, Amy! It really was a unique experience, and I’m really happy about the way things turned out. I know you run and stay in great shape; I had let things slide for a bunch of years, always on and off, but this event really made me focus and stick to a plan. I actually loved the preparation as much as the event!
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Liesbet @ Roaming About said:
Incredible, Lexie! Wow, wow, wow. Congratulations! I have no words. One foot out the door… that must have been thousands of feet, if not millions. Well done, you. I’m more than impressed and I hope you’re proud of yourself for years to come. What an exhausting experience. Like you, I suffer up every hill I climb (headache added) and could never, ever commit to such a goal or conquer such a feet. Wow again! You are a star.
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lexklein said:
I accept your excited congratulations, but I disagree that you could not do such a thing. I totally get that you might not WANT to do such a thing, but I think I am living proof that anyone can do things they didn’t previously think they could. It’s a great feeling and I hope it translates to other things in life because I still hold myself back in many ways. Thanks for the super nice comment!
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Bama said:
Wowww!!! This is such a great achievement, Lex! As I read each word and learned about every struggle you described in this post, those memories of the grueling mountain hikes I did in the past suddenly started pouring in. I did one terrible mistake prior to doing the three-day hike to Indonesia’s second tallest volcano seven years ago: not preparing my body for it. So when I read about the things you did to prepare yourself for this, I thought to myself that this is what I was supposed to do. My mom also turned 60 a few weeks ago, and I will tell her about this hike you did, not to encourage her to climb mountains, but to show her that age should never be an excuse not to do things. She’s more into cycling though, and I hope she’ll keep doing that for many years to come.
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lexklein said:
One of the main reasons I undertook this challenge was because I have also done so many grueling mountain hikes, and I figured I’d better REALLY get in shape now because I plan to climb mountains for a long time to come!
Of course I knew you were younger than I am, but it is weird to realize that my blogging friend (all of whom I (irrationally) think are “about” my age, has a MOTHER my age! I won’t let myself feel too shocked or bad about that, especially since your mom sounds like an active person in both spirit and body!
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Bama said:
And that’s exactly what I think of a lot of my blogging friends, including you, whom I assume are not much older than me. But it shows just how young your spirit is, which is also one of the reasons why many people think my mom is ten years younger than she actually is.
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Lexklein said:
If I can’t be young in years, I can certainly be so in spirit!
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Madhu said:
Haha welcome to the ‘young’ senior citizens club 🙂
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lexklein said:
Thanks! I could not be happier to join a crowd that includes “mature” people like you who still have lots of the world to explore!
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lexklein said:
I just (re?)read your About section last night after I read your post, and I loved all the points you made about what is possible later in life. Very inspirational.
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Madhu said:
I decided to come clean after I realised most people inviting me for collaborations were clueless about my age😬
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Anna said:
Holy batshit! Lol. What an amazing read! You are amazing Lexie! This is just what I needed to read as I’m suffering a major
Slump at the moment. Just not even motivated to get off the couch, feeling down and all that. I know I can turn it around if I put my mind to it. Your post shows anything physical can be done if you really want it! So so so proud of you even though I don’t know you! Bloody awesome stuff! X
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lexklein said:
First of all, your comments gave me a huge smile! Second of all, I want you to know what a slump I was in before all this, too. I got fat (for me) and lazy and depressed the year I spent living in Washington, DC (hard not to …), and the first few years here in Houston, I just kind of muddled along. I was better, but still kind of blah and unmotivated and perfectly willing to let myself coast. Reading about this event was like a thunderclap; I just knew from the first minute that this might snap me out of my torpor. I liked that it was not a race, just “me vs me,” and a way to test my mettle in a hard but still doable way. The structure of the training suited me; someone was telling me what to do, and I just had to get through it somehow.
Anyway, enough of my explanation and sales job (haha). You seem very active to me, and you seem like you’ve got a ton of vim and vigor left in you, too (even though I don’t know you either). You are in the kid-rearing years (so tiring) and you will have swings like I did over the decades. But people like you and I, who love the outdoors and being active in it, will always have that little spark to get up and go! Thanks again for all your nice comments!
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Anna said:
Thanks so much for your reply. You should be a motivational speaker after that reply! Lol. I think from what I have read and seen you are right – being of the age with a youngish child I just put her and my husband first and often forget about me. But I know this is a stage. She will get older, be more independant etc. I’ve seen it with so many of my “older” friends – women who now do amazing things. You have definitely given me hope! Even if I feel down and out now I know it won’t be forever and I will get back outdoors again in the future! Cheers Lex, you’re a gem! X
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Lexklein said:
Thank you and you’re welcome! I honestly do feel more capable and strong now than I did when I was younger just because I can take the time to focus on me. Back in the kids-at-home days, that was not happening (like your life right now). Hang in there, Anna!
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Elaine Bryan said:
Your father and I think you should run for president! Love and kudos, mom
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Lexklein said:
I think I’d do this whole event ten times (or more) in a row before I’d run for president! But thanks, mom!
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Tina Schell said:
Gigantic congratulations Lex, what an incredible accomplishment. I’m so glad you shared both the ups and downs (pun intended) of the journey. Onward and upward my friend, whatever challenge you choose!
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Lexklein said:
Thanks, Tina! It was quite the quest … I will take a short rest and then ponder what’s next! It felt good to push myself, and I want to keep that feeling going.
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Pingback: Jo’s Monday walk : Kirkstall Abbey to Leeds City Centre | restlessjo
Jane Lurie said:
I am awed by your post and accomplishment, Lex! Your telling of the tale is terrific and I was with you the whole way. Congratulations on the impressive way to celebrate your 60th! I, too, just hit 60 this year…and now I need to rethink my milestone. 😁 Thank you for the uplifting words.
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lexklein said:
Thanks, Jane! I’m sure we all have age or milestone triggers in our lives, and for some reason, my 60th struck me as a time to get back to my inner jock! I was always into sports and am obviously a huge hiking enthusiast, so this was a fun way to channel both interests and really challenge myself. I’m sure you, too, will find a new “Everest” to pursue, whether it’s athletic or artistic or whatever. Happy belated birthday! We sexagenarians rock!
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Anabel @ The Glasgow Gallivanter said:
Visiting via Jo’s Monday walk – bowled over! Congratulations on an amazing achievement.
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lexklein said:
How nice of you to wander over from Jo’s blog. And thank you – it was quite satisfying (although I told my husband today after a “mere” one-hour workout that I have no idea how I climbed that mountain 13 times!)
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pam@ichoosethis said:
I CANNOT BELIEVE YOU DID THIS!! So, so proud of you lady. I will need to read this one a few times to catch all of the details – I have been waiting for this post for months – haha. What a great secret keeper you are!! Also I started a new blog – I will explain when I see you soon. So, you will see a follow request from me at “i choose this”. It’s still under construction 🙂
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lexklein said:
I was a seriously good secret keeper – not even my kids knew! Now I need to come up with another clandestine quest – haha. Looking forward to seeing your new blog, and YOU, soon!
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Dave Ply said:
Wow.
You are truly bat shit insane. (And I bow at your feet.)
I’m almost afraid to hear what you come up with for an encore. Hopefully, something more attainable for the rest of we mere mortals. 😉
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Lexklein said:
Haha! Your reaction is one of the reasons I kept this event to myself until after I’d done it. Even I thought it seemed a bit extreme in the middle of the training program! Not sure what’s next, but I doubt it’ll be this extreme, at least for a while …
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Alison and Don said:
Bravo! Bravo! Bravo! I’m so impressed, and happy for you. I can feel both your pain and your elation. You challenged yourself and found out what you’re made of. It must feel amazing. So proud of you. So impressed.
I have this idea that comes and goes of walking the Camino next year as a gift to myself for my 70th. We’ll see . . . . .
Alison
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Lexklein said:
Thanks, Alison – and my very first comment is that you CAN do that Camino! I told myself on this one that I did not need to be first or fast; I just needed to try to get it done. We always have more left in the tank than we think, and seeing your energy levels exhibited on your blog make me think you’ve got plenty! I have the Camino on my list also – trying to wait for my husband to have more time! Can’t wait to see if you decide to give it a go.
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AndysWorldJourneys said:
wow! that’s a hell of an event. Really! dont really know what to say other than Brilliantly done!
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Lexklein said:
Thanks, Andy! It was a whopper, but honestly it felt manageable at the time. The training was great, and I somehow just got into the flow. Not even sure I could repeat it, but that’s OK!
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CompassAndCamera said:
LEXIE! CONGRATULATIONS! Wow, what a read! What a battle! What an accomplishment! I loved every word of your journey, so perfectly described it felt as though we were walking alongside you. You are such an inspiration in your preparation and perseverance. And it’s so good to know what you’ve been up to for the past months. I’ve been absent from blogging too, looking forward to writing again soon. I miss it and I miss friends like you who dig the gold out of life with every step and every journey. Congratulations on an epic accomplishment, powered by your belief in yourself. Simply amazing!
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Lexklein said:
Thanks, Kelly! I did sort of drop out of the ether and down onto the pavement for a while. I was always kind of a jock in my younger days, but as the years went by, I felt like writing and reading would be the ways I learned more about and improved myself. When I had this sudden urge to get back to being seriously active, I never imagined I might get to know and so enjoy a vestigial part of me! Of course, I was out there hiking and not exactly sitting around all that time, but I had totally stopped pushing myself in any major way, so it was very satisfying to work my body as hard as I have worked my brain for the last couple of decades!
Hope all is good with you and J (still at Lake Tahoe?), and of course I can’t wait until you re-emerge in writing, too!
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lexi@thelifebus said:
Hey Lexi!! That is an amazing accomplishment!! So impressive how you powered through. I love that about tough endurance events. You can totally do so much more than you think you can!! What’s next for you after this awesome experience? Can’t wait to read about it. Cheers, the other Lexi 🙂
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Lexklein said:
Thanks, Other Lexi! 🙂
I definitely did more than I thought I could! I’d never really done a serious endurance event even though I’ve hiked for weeks on end. I figured I’d have the stamina, but I didn’t know how I’d do with the pain of each climb and the mental game of staying only on the lap I was on. No idea what’s next, but I know I want to keep up at least some of the training. Hope you are good – thanks for visiting!
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Joanne Sisco said:
I cried for you. I literally cried.
With 5 Ironmen in my past and a climb up Kilimanjaro, I know the training, I know the exhaustion, I know the despair … but omg, the jubilation!!
You are a badass!!
There is one line in particular that jumped out at me in your story … ‘Ready physically, but how will I ever know if I have the mental fortitude’. My coach once told me that getting the nutrition right for an endurance event is the untold key and anyone who has had the intestinal suffering would recognize that as true, but I would also add the mental toughness and the ability to compartmentalize pain to enable you to just KEEP ON GOING is the cornerstone to all the training and the challenges of the event itself. Clearly you have it. A LOT of it.
‘Congratulations’ simply doesn’t measure up to such an outstanding achievement, but it’s the only word I have in my arsenal. You have my deepest respect.
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lexklein said:
You are very kind, but I still think 5 Ironman events has me beat! I didn’t know YOU were such a badass! There are so many pieces, and it was so interesting to me to discover that the physical training and fitness parts were not even the deciding factors in an endurance event, at least not this one. There were Ironmen who did not finish, and marathoners and young jacked guys, all of whom were technically “fitter” than I. Congrats to you on all your accomplishments,
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Joanne Sisco said:
I too had to learn that training and fitness are only the building blocks. In an endurance event, stereotypes sometimes get kicked to the curb.
I’m still in awe of your achievement!
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lexklein said:
Thanks again! The feeling is mutual!
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Mabel Kwong said:
Wow, Lexie, wow. This was quite the story, experience and journey. Like some of the other commentors, I clung onto every word. So well written, from the training side of things to the main event and how you felt physically, mentally and emotionally. Throughout the piece it seemed like you barely had doubt, and were positive you could do it all – so determined, but I also think SO stubborn to finish it and that is probably what got you over the line 😀
Only about half of your troope finished and that says a lot about how challenging the hike was. I’ve never hiked anything remotely as hard as this. Even a day hike is already enough to make me want to spend a week in bed! My hat is off to you for doing what you wanted to do, and did it. Also, you don’t exactly 60 in the last photo. You do look way younger 😛
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lexklein said:
Your last statement will make me love and follow you forever, Mabel! 😀 I do know I don’t feel a day over 30 on the inside. In the past I was not always so confident or focused or impervious to pain, but this training and event have shown me what the human body and mind can do when they work together. Thanks for all your very nice comments,
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Mabel Kwong said:
Yeah, I really mean it. You look much closer to 30 than 60. Do you use sunscreen or is looking younger all in the mind and keeping up fitness? 😀
I am glad you talked in-depth about your training and not only the hike. No pun intended but there are so many steps before you can make it to the top, and it’s important to be conditioned before going on such a long journey.
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lexklein said:
I think the key is a blurry camera! 🙂
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Cheryl Capaldo Traylor said:
I love love love EVERYthing about this post! You shared your low points as well as the highs, showing that this was a monumental challenge and you met it head on like the badass you are! Way to go! As I read this, your motivation, dedication, and commitment inspired me so much. I’m thinking: wow! I need a project to motivate me to push myself a little more. I just did a big mountain hike for me: 6 hours, 10 miles, with an elevation of 5408. I thought that was rough! It was my first straight-up-a-mountain hike. I nearly quit with only 30 minutes left because it was exhausting. UNTIL I got to the top and then was thrilled! What you did is so amazing. I don’t think I could pull that off, or even want to, but I can see what a grand accomplishment it is to be proud of! Way to go! Kudos! Congrats! And sixty-shmixty! That’s only a number. You rock!
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lexklein said:
Thank you so much, Cheryl! I was telling someone else that hiking has always been in my blood, and I used to be an athlete up through college, but the mental training and toughness I learned here were what really pushed me to the top. I would have never believed I could do this just 9 months ago. I’m with you on the age stuff; I’ve never felt as old as I really am (which has mostly been a good thing! 😀) Thanks for your kind comments!
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Cheryl Capaldo Traylor said:
I read your post to my husband last night. He came away inspired as I did. Your story helped him push through a tough workout at the gym this morning! It’s truly inspiring, Lexi. I hope you’ll think about sending it out to a magazine to inspire lots more people.
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lexklein said:
Thank you again! I’m trying to use my own example to now keep myself motivated – haha. I don’t know much about sending articles out, but if I get some spare time, I might look into it!
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thirdeyemom said:
Wow wow and wow! I can’t believe you did this Lexi! I just am going through my inbox and read it. Absolutely amazing! Thanks for sharing this story! What is next after this?
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lexklein said:
I’m resting on my laurels for a week or two (haha) and then I think I’ll get ready for a half marathon this fall. I’d love to do another fun challenge like this someday, but the training really was very time consuming, so I think I will wait a bit before I start looking for the next one!
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James said:
What an inspiring, riveting, and exhilarating story, Lex – congratulations on storming past your own stated goal and climbing the equivalent of Everest! I practically felt like I was there, rooting for you and feeling my own excitement rise with every lap you finished on Snowbasin Mountain. The months of intense training and meticulous diet planning evidently paid off; your account is a timely reminder for me to get back in shape (I have certainly gained weight since moving to Indonesia!).
The first and only time I did any serious mountain trekking was on a three-day climb with Bama up 12,200-foot Mt. Rinjani six years ago. I did train in anticipation of that (via regular gym/cardio sessions and dragon-boat racing) but only just managed to reach the summit. Getting back down the mountain was so painful that Bama couldn’t walk properly for the next week.
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lexklein said:
Bama did mention an intense mountain hike! Thanks for your nice comments, James. I was so happy that everything went as well as it did with both the training and the event. It was certainly my most personally satisfying time on a mountain, but I think I’ll stick with my traditional days- or weeks-long treks in the future!
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Jolandi Steven said:
I am absolutely gobsmacked, Lexie! Wow! Wow! Wow! I am exhausted just reading this (and that has nothing to do with it being 5000 words).
I definitely I echo the sentiments of others calling you bat shit crazy and bonkers. 🙂 BUT to pull something like this off, I guess one has to be. I take my hat off to you for your focus, dedication to your training, and mental and physical stamina during the event. Not to mention your incredible ability to keep a secret.
Well done on conquering your Everest. What a spectacular birthday gift to yourself. You are an inspiration.
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lexklein said:
I totally get the astonished reactions of many people who have now heard about my little challenge, but for some reason, I just don’t think back on it as anything super amazing or special or killer hard. I know that’s hindsight working its magic because in the last few weeks, I’ve tried to do a fraction of the hard workouts I was doing to prepare, and I do find myself thinking “how the heck did I do that?” So maybe I am batshit bonkers!
You are kind to call me an inspiration, but I really think we all do things that inspire others, and your living in Abu Dhabi, renovating your stone house and tending the land in Portugal, and all your exotic and adventuresome trips are just as inspiring to me!
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Jolandi Steven said:
I guess we all do things that, although sometimes hard, appear a bit mundane to us, but are inspirational to others. Which, I think, is a good thing, as it keeps us dreaming. I also just love to learn about things that I never knew existed. And the blogging community has taught me that there are many people living extremely interesting lives.
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lexklein said:
100% agreed! Especially the part about always learning; that’s my goal (even if it’s just a teeny tiny thing) for every day for the rest of my life!
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Jolandi Steven said:
I’m definitely with you on that one.
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twobrownfeet said:
Wow! Congratulations! It must have been some kind of high. You’re so inspirational! Reading your post reiterates the fact that as long as you want to achieve something — anything is possible. 🙂 Just what I need.
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lexklein said:
Thank you, Cheryl. “High” indeed, in so many ways! I really used to think that the whole “anything is possible” thing applied to other people and that I was too weak-willed to do certain things. (I might even still have traces of that feeling in me – like maybe the 29029 event was a fluke …). But I’m trying to believe in myself and in that philosophy, and this experience really did help! We ALL need this reminder because we ALL have so much more in us; it’s just different things and different degrees for different people.
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gallivance.net said:
Lexie, there’s not much that I can say that hasn’t already been said … except Bravo! On this birthday, or any for that matter, you now know that you can cut it. In addition to the Herculean physical chops, an accomplishment like this takes an incredible mental effort and you must be so chuffed. This should renew your “badass” juice for the next decade. Major Congrats! ~ James
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lexklein said:
Thanks, James. I am laughing at your “badass juice” theory … but also hoping it holds true! I fear this might be one of those domino things, where I have to keep finding ways to challenge myself. For now, I’m feeling good, and I’m trying to apply the lessons I learned in this process to other things in my life.
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Bespoke Traveler said:
Oh my! Congratulations on your epic achievement! How thrilling and inspirational for all of us. Your accomplishment makes me dream about the mountains I can climb in the future.
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Lexklein said:
So many kudos in there (thank you), but I hope the main message is kind of like what you said in the end – that we don’t really have limits if we can get past our own self-definitions and stereotypes. Age, gender, past selves, type of activity, etc – none of it matters if we single-mindedly attack something! This event for me was a hybrid; relentless uphills had always demoralized, scared, and exhausted me, and I was woefully out of shape overall, but I was already good at hiking in general. Next time I need to face something even more terrifying! 🙂
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Bespoke Traveler said:
I’m in such admiration of your continuous search to challenge yourself and seek out your fears!
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J.D. Riso said:
Well, you sure can keep a secret. I had no idea what you were up to. What is this compulsion to beat the crap out of ourselves? I’ve done it, too, in different ways. (Papua New Guinea, for example) It must be a search for a sense of triumph. Especially as we get older. I bet you can whoop most teenagers’ butts on the hiking trails now. Congratulations on finishing. You look radiant. I bet you can hike anywhere now. So…where to next?
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Lexklein said:
I have no plans for what’s next! At least as far as adventure and major travel go. I’m feeling quite ambivalent about my on-the-go lifestyle these days. Meanwhile, I’m continuing some of my training just because I feel so good but nothing of the magnitude I was doing before the event. I needed to beat the crap out of myself, though, both physically and mentally. It did me a world of good.
I must admit that I disappeared only in part due to the challenge-related busyness. I continue to struggle with the whole social media circus, and I’m trying to use it in a way that keeps me sane. I even vacillate daily on whether to take down this particular post. Ultimately, it has brought me back to my online “others,” which I value, so it stays for now.
(I’m actually crying in that pic, so thanks for saying I look radiant! 🙂 )
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J.D. Riso said:
Your “others” are so happy to see you back here. 🙂
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Lexklein said:
Thanks, Julie. There are many of you I would not want to lose touch with even if I become that disappearing friend from time to time!
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LdG luciledegodoy said:
I’ve read your post three times and sent the link to a few people. Lexie, you’ve written your most inspiring and thought provoking post so far, and I’m taken by it.
There are many professionals climbing mountains, running marathons, competing at Olympic, world-class levels.
Throughout life, we go through imaginary mountains, marathons and competitions, in the format of our internal battles and sometimes, self-imposed limitations.
The difference between the athletes and the rest of us is, is that they are sports’ athletes and for that they plan, prepare, practice, train most of the time, and then have seconds, minutes, or hours to perform.
We, on the contrary, don’t live our lives following a strict plan, training scheme etc. but instead perform the whole time without rehearsals.
Some of us do well, some don’t.
That is what perhaps fuels our fears or courage.
I’m rambling here, when all I wanted to say is that I’ve always admired you as someone who dares to experiment, with open heart and mind, learning on the way about that extra courage you have and moving on to the next challenge.
Conquering your own Everest now, was not a small decision not even for someone like you; you made it, and I’m not surprised, but immensely proud and inspired by your achievement.
You’re a role model to people of all ages, who say ‘no’ to their wishes and dreams, convincing themselves of their perceived lack of ability or for believing when others say they can’t.
What you show here is that although we are not athletes, we can learn many lessons from their discipline and holistic way of training, particularly the mental training, and that is an approach we can apply to deal with our life battles as well.
If like you, we put our minds to something, we can succeed.
Brava!
Please spread your story, go viral, go to papers, conferences; you are what many people could aspire to be.
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Lexklein said:
Lucile, your comment is so meaningful to me. You are a thinker about life, as am I, and yet I sometimes get myself on autopilot, not thinking about my life, the lives of others, and the life of our earth. I was not able to see a comment area on your latest post, but in many ways your thoughts on the brevity of life connect so well with what I was trying to do here, on this hiking challenge, even though it seems to only have to do with myself. I have found that the stronger and happier I am, the more likely and able I am to help other people and our world in general. In spite of what I felt I was able to accomplish, I think of myself as less special instead of more special because I tapped into a universal strength that we all have, even if we don’t use it or even know we have it! Sorry about your friend, Christine – sending warm thoughts to you and her at this difficult time. Thanks for visiting, too! I’ve missed your thoughtful words.
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carolinehelbig said:
OMG Lexie, I don’t even know where to begin. Congratulations first of all!!! With every word, you had me with you on your amazing, gruelling feat. I am so impressed by your determination and physical/emotional stamina. Reading this, part of me wants to do something similar, but an equal part is scared shitless and extremely uncertain whether I’d have the discipline to put in all that training. Anyway, whether I do something like this or not, you’ve provided me with so much inspiration and a reminder that us older middle-aged women (my big one is coming up soon) still have lots of strength left in us (perhaps even more than the younger ones when it comes to mental fortitude).
You’re going to leave me in the dust if you come hiking here!
Way to go!!!! (how’s the recovery going?)
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lexklein said:
First of all, I guarantee I would not be leaving you in the dust! You are one fit mama. I totally agree that whatever I (we?) may have lost in bodily strength over the years has been made up for in mental fortitude. I might not have said that before I trained, but there was something about pushing myself day after day, month after month, that made me see that I could still hack it mentally, and that in turn made me more impervious to pain and discomfort. It was really, really fun to both get ready and to do the event. It will be a very special memory forever!
Recovery: well, the next day, I was like “I feel great! Let’s go take a walk! (in Park City, UT with husband and son). Two to five days later I might as well have had a major flu bug; I was DEAD and no matter how much I ate, I was still losing weight from the giant calorie deficit of the weekend before. After that week, I felt totally normal and started running again! I grew to really love it, and I figure I’ll keep it up for as long as I can! (Oh, and I had to stop shoveling the food in eventually – damn!)
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carolinehelbig said:
I’m glad to hear that recovery wasn’t too bad.
You got me thinking about an annual event here, on Summer Solstice, if you’re up for more torturous uphill. The Grouse Grind is a popular, local workout (1.8 miles/28000 ft gain). This year, a new record of 19 Grouse Grinds in 24 hours was set by a 57 year old guy (left those young ones in the dust). Here’s a link to the story: https://www.nsnews.com/sports/racer-sets-record-with-19-grouse-grinds-in-one-day-1.23885897
Once up the grind is plenty for me, but I’ll cheer you on!
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lexklein said:
Wow – very similar event although the Grind seems to be more of a race. Even the incline seems very similar given the mileage and elevation gain ratio (I did double check your 28000′ number, and it was indeed 2800 as I suspected – phew!) Sounds like a fun thing to do on one’s own, though! I may have to add it to the list just so my husband can see what I was up against.
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Manja Mexi Mexcessive said:
Oh, Lexi, you certainly had a good reason for not blogging. Your own Everest! Amazing accomplishment and account. You have now ten years to think what you wish to do for your next big one. 🙂 Extremely well done extreme.
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lexklein said:
Oh, ten years ’til the next challenge – thank you, Manja! 🙂 I wonder if I’ll ever think this big again … but it was so fun, I just might!
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Emma said:
I’m glad I discovered your blog Lexi. You have fantastic courage
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lexklein said:
Oh, thank you! That is a very nice compliment, and it helps me to see that my own fears and insecurities are not always visible on the outside! I’ve never thought of myself as courageous or stoic (as much as I always wanted to be), but now I am starting to believe I really am those things, at least sometimes!
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Madhu said:
Wow Lex, that was a most gripping read! Huge congratulations on conquering your own Everest!!! What a fabulous birthday gift to yourself. Much belated wishes coming your way. Keep rocking.
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lexklein said:
Thanks, Madhu! It was so satisfying, and I can’t think of a better gift to myself at a time when some people start to believe they are “old.” I was always young at heart even before I trained for and did the event, but it did confirm for me that I could push myself in a way I had not even done in my 40s and 50s. (Then again, raising kids WAS quite the endurance event of its own!). Once again, happy to see you back here!
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Madhu said:
Just stopping by to wish you a merry Christmas Lexi. And many satisfying adventures through the coming year.
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lexklein said:
Thanks, Madhu – same to you!
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Christie said:
Wow Lexie, such a great accomplishment! I’m not sure how I missed your post, probably because I’ve not been blogging so consistent lately. I have read your post breathlessly, it is really catchy!! It is amazing how you need to battle your own fears before battling the “monsters”. Congratulations, you are a true inspiration!
Christie
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lexklein said:
You are so nice to go back and read and comment! I’ve been such a bad blogger and blog reader lately, so I totally get it. The event was one of the craziest and most unique things I’ve done for sure, and I got so high on the feeling of the challenge that I signed up to do ONE more next summer!
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Christie said:
Hehe, I was about to ask what’s next😊 I am glad for you, these kind of achievements give us the joy of life, and a fulfillment feeling.
Happy Holidays, and Happy Hiking😊
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lexklein said:
Same to you, Christie!
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Hoarder Comes Clean said:
I second all the “Wow”s and raise them a few “OMG”s. What an accomplishment! I’ve been away from blogging for other (mostly computer-related) reasons and just got back to where I can look for my favorite bloggers. I think your post is so gripping, so well written, and so inspiring that it should be a travel/adventure article. I hope you’ll consider submitting it, or a version of it, for publication to an even wider audience.
All the best, and I hope to see more posts from you soon — Sandy
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lexklein said:
Oh, hello, Sandy – I’ve missed your posts! You’ve been absent about as long as I have – haha! Thanks for your very kind words about my event and my post. I would submit the story somewhere, but it’s one of those things where I don’t want to/don’t have the time to find appropriate outlets. If I ever did find that motivation, it might be too late for the story to be fresh! Crazy as it sounds, I have signed up to do this one more time on a steeper mountain in Idaho this coming June; the training and event itself proved to be kind of addicting! Happy New Year to you!
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Hoarder Comes Clean said:
Happy New Year to you too, and I look forward to reading about your new adventure (you are now my Fitness Goddess!)
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lexklein said:
🙂
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