EDITORS NOTE: This month, Climb For Kids is heading to China to participate in the Great Wall Marathon. One of the participants, Jessie Alan, was kind enough to put together a bunch of thoughts on the event, her preparation and what the run means to her.

Running stairs could not suck more. It’s great for your heart but it makes your head kind of swim. It’s hard on your knees on the way down, and hard on your IT bands, hamstrings and calves going up.

On the upside, it’s great for your butt.

But it’s boooring. Unless you happen to be in the company of your other main source of inspiration, which for me – cue the gagging – is my boyfriend, Matt Kowalczyk. Those nasty stairs you see in the photo are just one flight of about a dozen that climb the steep western side of my Capitol Hill ‘hood. He introduced me to these stairs and they’ve become our semi-regular training grounds for the Great Wall run.

I will try to keep the gratuitous fawning to a minimum, I promise, but it must be said that this trip wouldn’t be happening if it weren’t for Matt’s courage and passion. He founded Climb for Kids as a way of coping, healing, and sharing his strength and his story with others who suffer as he has, and there’s no other word for it: it’s just plain inspiring.

Anybody who knows Matt knows that he is what we call an “external processor”. The man has no internal monologue. It’s a real treat, listening to him mutter to himself while he’s thinking – it’s where I get most of my best standup material. But what it also means is that he is incredibly open about the things he experiences and feels, even if he isn’t entirely sure what they mean. Combine that with his gift of online gab and what you get is someone who expresses himself beautifully and shares freely, which draws people to him and lets those who are going through the trauma of fetal syndromes know they are not alone…and that, in Matt’s words (borrowed from Dan Savage of course), it gets better.

Matt’s story about his twin daughters Emma and Ella is all his own, it’s not mine. I only know Emma as the tiny infant in the photo on Matt’s landing, laying on his naked chest and wearing tubes in her nose and a knit cap I imagine to be no bigger than a teacup. I know he loves her dearly and remembers her every day. I know that her birth and her death were two of the most earthshattering and lifechanging events of his life to date. And I see how he honors her memory and celebrates his surviving daughter Ella by throwing himself at mountains and now also by running 20 miles at a single go to prepare for his full marathon (yes people, FULL marathon, not the wimpy half like me) on the Wall.

This charity run we’re doing to raise money for Climb for Kids is a lot of things to me; it’s an amazing adventure in a country I’ve wanted to visit my whole adult life; it’s a window in to Matt’s history and experience with twin-to-twin-transfusion syndrome; and it’s an opportunity to lend support to this worthy cause. I’m so grateful to be part of it.

EDITORS NOTE: This month, Climb For Kids is heading to China to participate in the Great Wall Marathon. One of the participants, Jessie Alan, was kind enough to put together a bunch of thoughts on the event, her preparation and what the run means to her.

As the day we depart draws nearer (we’re less than a week, eek!), I’m still finding it difficult to beat back the winter doldrums and get out to pound the pavement.

I tried, Hal Higdon – I really tried. Your novice training schedule seems reasonable enough, but it doesn’t account for the crushing effects of one of the longest, coldest, crappiest, most depressing springs Seattle has ever seen.

The main thing I took away from your training schedule – which came highly recommended from a good friend and talented marathoner, and really it really is fabulous – is the resting part. Don’t want to overdo it.

So, because I’m desperate for inspiration to run and one of the things I love most about running is how I take in my surroundings, I decided to go on a field trip to Conway, Washington last weekend. Exit 221!

This is where I lived more than (eek again!) ten years ago, when I worked for the National Outdoor Leadership School. NOLS has the most amazing little compound here, less than a mile off of Interstate 5, and I made it my harbor after graduating from Michigan (if you took physics and organic chemistry in your last quarter like I did, then you know how ready I was for a break). I learned to climb a little better, practiced my z-pulleys and prusiks, learned to roll a kayak (very well in flat water) and juggle (badly), and nearly every day I ran in the flat, fertile and endless Skagit Valley.

Cross the highway, turn left at the whitewashed Lutheran church. Grassy berm holding back the Skagit river along one side of the road, and acres of farmland stretching away from the other. It goes on forever, interrupted only by the occasional passing pickup truck or mean farm dog. Running in such vastness lets your mind slow down and wander; you feel like you could run forever, until your ankles, knees and hips remind you that you can’t.

For more than ten years I’ve remembered what it feels like to run this road, and maybe I was a little heavier on my feet this time but it was truly an inspiration to be back there. When I got home to Seattle and went running the next day, there in my hip belt were the two huge rocks I’d picked up and carried, to protect myself from getting bitten in the ass again – something I’d learned from my dad, but failed to do one fateful day when a farm dog left its property to literally chew me out. This time, I hadn’t needed it. Wish I hadn’t carried that extra weight.

EDITORS NOTE: This month, Climb For Kids is heading to China to participate in the Great Wall Marathon. One of the participants, Jessie Alan, was kind enough to put together a bunch of thoughts on the event, her preparation and what the run means to her. Here’s the first of many posts written by Jessie for the event.

Yes, even minimalist neat freaks like me have a ratty t-shirt or two crammed in their bottom drawer; and by one or two, I literally mean two. One is the faded yellow t-shirt my dad used to wear to wash the car on weekends when I was a baby – back when I was too young to recognize the cars’ make and model, but old enough to know that its olive green paint – much like the olive green porcelain in our bathroom – was not an ok color and wouldn’t be trendy for long.

The other is my 1994 Traverse City Track and Field team shirt, which I’ve had a blissful reunion with this spring as I prepped for the Great Wall half marathon I’m about to run with Matt, and wearing this shirt again has been truly inspirational. (Speaking of Matt, sorry sweetie for almost throwing out a nasty-but-valuable shirt of yours last week, I plead temporary spring-cleaning insanity. Oh the hypocrisy.)

When I dug out this shirt and put it on, I was reminded of 2 things: 1) old t-shirts like this feel amazing, how the threadbare baggy cotton floats and billows on the skin, holding in just enough heat for this weather and 2) er, yeah…years ago, for a half second I was on my high school’s track team. Kind of. At least I never came in last – but what was I doing, anyway? My inseam is 28 inches, I was a horrible sprinter, and I chose the 100 hurdles as my event. Genius

The thing is, I think my illustrious track&field career was so short because in my heart I’ve never been a competitive runner. I started running when I was twelve, and I did this because my mom kept forcing me to follow my dad on his three-mile runs on my bike, and one day I just decided to ditch the bike. I ran in high school because I was fat. Next thing I knew, I was running because I was fit and – miracle of all miracles – I loved it.
I’m not good, I’m not fast, and it doesn’t matter.

I’ve run in the Mojave desert, across volcanic craters on the Big Island, and on the beaches of Lake Michigan. I’ve also pulled over on the side of the highway in places like Nebraska, Montana and Massachusetts to change in the back seat of the car and hop out for a couple miles to break up the monotony of a long road trip. The quiet meditative state a good run can have really opens my senses to everything around me, and I think it’s one of the best ways to really experience a place.

Which makes this Great Wall run pretty much the most perfect thing I could do – I won’t be caught up in working harder, moving faster, or making time, I’ll just be enjoying my surroundings with every mindblowing step. And trying not to fall off the Wall.

The delicate t-shirt will stay safely home, to provide inspiration for another day. Maybe I’ll wear it for a jog when I go home to TC this summer. Go Trojans!

I asked Dr. Peter Wall – Director of Climb For Kids, maternal medicine physician, kick ass climber and loving father to put up a quick post about his experience on our recent trip to the Alps. Peter was the incredible doctor who helped out my family when were dealing with the trauma of TTTS. He will always have a special place in my heart. The photos from his camera are here, and the additional photos from his Mont Blanc attempt are here. Here’s his post.

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Back from our Alps adventures – Matty arranged a great trip, with fantastic guides.

In the course of two weeks I learned that I love rock climbing much more than glacier slogs, that European alpine huts are phenomenally better than American (especially when compared to the shack on Mt Rainier); but that nothing really changes the experience of dormitory-stye, high altitude sleeping. (as the Navy Seal we met at the Monch Hut said, ” I’m breathing, but it’s just not working”). I learned from Matt Farmer (guide extraordinaire) that fashion IS safety, and from Zoe (also a guide extraordinaire) that sometimes you just have to say, “Oops, sorry” and move on.

And I relearned from Matt K, that the love we have for our children is precious beyond words. That it persists through death and the distances of time and place, and remains a powerful force for change.

Emma was especially in my thoughts as I attempted to summit Mt Blanc, as Matty and I had talked about her the day before. (I refer you back to his posting of his first Mt Blanc summit – Note from Matt: I swear I’ll get this reposted after burning man). I thought about her, and the other babies I’ve cared for – and the quiet desperation of their parents as they deal with the uncertainties of complicated pregnancies.

I’m proud to know Matt, and deeply respect his charitable instincts – he really does serve as an example to us all (though I know he’ll be embarrassed to read this, and attempt to shrug it off with some self deprecating statement!).

Peter

–
Thanks Peter. And Thank YOU for all the great work you’ve done, the lives you’ve saved and the families you’ve helped.

Our journey to Gran Paradiso (13323 ft / 4061 m) was met with persistent reluctance due to unstable and unpredictable weather patterns around the Alps. We had conflicting reports of snow in Italy, but we all decided that the worst that could happen was that we’d find some spectacular food. I mean, it is Italy after all, and the rest stop just on the Italian side of the Mont Blanc tunnel easily served the best coffee we had on the trip. Thus no matter the weather, we were going to have fun.

Joining us on this leg of the journey was Caroline George and Matt Helliker along with Zoe. Gran Paradiso is a pretty benign climb, but yet it still has the traditional alpine elements of the Alps. Our summit attempt would be made from a hut that we would hike up to the first day. And true to form, the food at the hut was spectacular. We drank amazing Barbaroso wine (the attendants would pour us 1 L carafes for only 8 Euros), had incredible cappuccinos (1/2 the cost for a coffee in Chamonix – 1.5 Euros) , and even had our own sleeping quarters. I love climbing in Italy.

The next morning we work up at 5:00 am, ate breakfast, and then proceeded to hike through the snow to the summit. The sky was clear and the weather held out for us. Whew. The slog to the summit was uneventful, because our guides again had a brilliant strategy. We would wait 1 hours for the slower, bigger teams to break trail, and we would utilize their newly carved trail to climb up the mountain quite quickly. This would enable us to move swiftly past all the teams and forgo the eventual bottleneck of climbers vying to stand on the tiny summit.

As we moved ahead, the nasty bug that Brooks caught earlier in the week came back to bite him and thus Zoe and he back headed down to the hut. Our new guides, along with Armand and myself cruised past all the teams to the summit. It only took us 4 hours to reach the top of Gran Paradiso. The summit required a tiny bit of rope work, but it was child’s play compared to what we were doing the last week. Our team was the third one on the summit that day.

As we headed down, we noticed the stream of approximately 50 climbers waiting for their turn on the summit. Thankfully, we didn’t have to wait for them and boogied all the way back down to the hut. My team was the first to back to the hut, completing the round trip in 6 hours. All that acclimatizing paid off in spades. Photos from Gran Paradiso can be found Flickr.

When we returned to the bottom of the mountain, we found out that Peter’s summit attempt was cancelled due to the massive amount of snow still found on Mont Blanc. He apparently still had a great day of climbing in the snow, but no summit attempt was possible.

With this mountain, we ended our two weeks of climbing and European Climb For Kids event. We all had a blast and raised a ton of money for families in need. It was a magnificent way to help others and have fun doing it.

We want to give a special thanks to all of our guides for dealing with 4 very diverse personalities and helping of us reach our personal goals. We also want to give an extra special thanks to Zoe Hart we for leading our team and spending the massive amount of time organizing and planning this crazy itinerary.

NOTE: Photos from Zermatt can be found on Flickr. These photos are from all the participants and retain all the rights entitled to each person. No photo may be reproduced without the permission of Climb For Kids or the original photographer.

As you may recall, Chamonix and Mont Blanc specifically, hold a special place in my heart. Last year, I posted a story on my old blog (which I’m still trying resurrect), which described how I sensed Emma’s physical home was on Mont Blanc.  I expected my return to Chamonix to inhibit the same emotions I felt last year and eventually it did – but I’m getting ahead of myself. Let’s continue with our journey.

The team spent a rainy day traveling by train from Zermatt to Chamonix, France, which is the birthplace of mountaineering.  It is a beautiful town, which is much less expensive than Zermatt and has plenty of climbing enthusiasts from all over the world. Many of the world’s premier alpinists call Chamonix home, and for good reason. It is nestled between many countless peaks offering technical challenges where are rarely found with this much infrastructure. The entire town is dedicated to essentially three things: Skiing (Chamonix was home to the first Winter Olympics), mountain biking and of course, climbing.  While walking around downtown, it is not unusual to see climbers dressed in full mountain climbing regalia walking along side people window shopping.

Our first day was met with more rain. Zoe and Farmer had the brilliant idea of traveling via the telepheric up to the Aiguille du Midi (3842 m) which is home to the Mont Blanc observatory, tourist trap and restaurant. The “Midi” is part of an outcrop of rock that sits adjacent to Mont Blanc. I had the pleasure of climbing , a specific section of this rock called the Arete Cosmiques last year.  Our guides’ idea was to go above the weather and climb this arete again.

As we got above the clouds, it was evident that this was the perfect strategy, and the sun was shinning brightly at the Midi. We had a wonderful day of rock climbing while wearing crampons and culminating with an ascent on to the observation deck in front of all the tourists. Just like the Breithorn, there was plenty of exposure, but the climbing was less difficult as our bodies started to finally generate enough red blood cells for the thin air.  We were almost acclimatized. Here’s a link to the photos on Flickr.

The next day, we decided to back off from the snow, and spend time working on our rock climbing skills. We headed up the valley to small rocky peak called Aiguille L’Index (8514 ft / 2595 m) , which was accessible via a chair lift via Les Pras (the town north of Chamonix).  The group chose two different routes to the top of the peak, one via an easier 5.7 climb, and the other via a 5.8/5.9 path. The climb was about 7 pitches from bottom to top and took the better part of the morning. Our goal was to complete this climb before yet another storm system came in through the valley.  It was a very fun day, and we all had a great time working on our skills.. Photos from L’Index can be found on Flickr.

As the weather turned bad, the following day we decided to yet again try to find a climbing objective that was above the bad weather.  Brooks, who had been out for 4 days due to illness, could finally join us again, so we picked a high altitude objective that was not difficult but would challenge us to use all of our acquired skills to date. The guides came up with the plan to climb Pointe Lachenal (11853 ft / 3613 m) which is an arête that is found on the southern slope of Mont Blanc du Tacul – aka the first of three summits of the Mont Blanc massif.  We ascended to the Midi via the telepheric and began the long slog in white out through thigh high powder to reach the base of this objective. It was a tedious walk to Pointe Lachenal, and as we walked closer and closer to Mont Blanc I could feel my little girl Emma again. It was mesmerizing. The crunching sound of our crampons in the snow, covered up the shallow crying that was bellowing from deep inside me.  Tears were freezing as they rolled down my cheeks. It was a wonderful, but sad feeling.  Eerily, when we stopped to rest, Zoe mentioned to Farmer that she received a text that one of their friends just gave birth to a new baby.  I’d like to think it coincided with the sensation I had of Emma a few minutes earlier. Along with those thoughts, it became clear that the following day, Peter Wall, the doctor who brought Emma into this world, was going to make a run at the summit of Mont Blanc.  Events were starting align themselves again, in only a way Emma could arrange.  I began having thoughts that I should attempt Mont Blanc again too, but I realized that this was Peter’s quest and Em wanted to say hi to him this time.

With those emotions swirling around my insides, we reached the base of Pointe Lachenal, and Armand, Brooks, and Zoe decided to turn around and head back to Chamonix.  Peter, Farmer and I threw caution to the wind and decided to climb.  We were still in a whiteout but we could see the climbing objective, so we thought why not climb? Well, after 3 pitches of moderate ice and rock, thunder started screaming across the sky. After the fourth array of thunder we realized we needed to get the hell out of there in a hurry.  We quickly lowered back down to the powder covered glacier, and began the long journey to the Midi. After 10 minutes, Zoe phoned Farmer to let him know that bad weather was causing the telepheric (aka our only way back to Chamonix) to close down very shortly. Uh oh. With that the three of us very briskly walked across the glacier to the Midi. At times, it felt like we were running at 12,500 feet.  Our speedy work paid off, and arrived back at the Midi to catch the last run back to Chamonix accompanied by all the employees of the Midi. Whew. Photos from Pointe Lachenal can be found on Flickr.

The climb up Point Lachenal culminated our exclusive tour with only Zoe and Farmer. We had two additional guides scheduled to join us the following day, where our ratio would be one guide per climber, so we needed a plan to utilize these extra guides effectively. We agreed as a group, that each person had autonomy to climb with a guide as they saw fit.  As I mentioned above,  Peter chose to make a run at Mont Blanc, while the rest of us decided that the sunshine of Italy was calling us.

Our journey continues the next day in northwestern Italy, at Gran Paradiso, the tallest peak entirely encompassed within the country’s borders.

NOTE: Photos from Chamonix can be found on Flickr. These photos are from all the participants and retain all the rights entitled to each person. No photo may be reproduced without the permission of Climb For Kids or the original photographer.

Our summer climbing quest to save lives, begins in the storybook town of Zermatt, Switzerland which is nestled in the southern Swiss Alps. Zermatt’s most recognizable landmark is the Matterhorn and it’s second most recognizable landmark is the ultra expensive prices for everything; including the $100 I spent to have my clothes laundered, but that’s another story.  That being said, we were not there for the Matterhorn nor the overpriced goods. We arrived there to train for the Eiger and to climb Monte Rosa (15203 ft / 4634 m), Western Europe’s second tallest peak.

Our guides for the trip were Zoe Hart and Matt Farmer , who are certifiably incredible climbers on their own.  Zoe and Farmer (he goes by his last name) would be our companions for the entire Alps trip. The climbers consisted of Brooks Talley , Armand Musey , CFK director  Dr. Peter Wall and of course myself .

The training began high upon a small rocky peak called the Riffelhorn (9603 ft / 2927 m), which required us to board a cograil to reach. This outcrop of rock is situated in between the grand peaks of the area and provides stunning views of glaciated mountains in every direction.  We spent this first day acclimatizing to the altitude and testing our rock climbing skills while wearing mountaineering boots. The climbing was relatively easy (class 5.6/5.7) but the exposure and bulky gear provided challenges none of us were used to. This was the exact type of climbing we’d be privy to on the Eiger. Here’s a link to the photos.

The second day at altitude provided a much heftier challenge. We were to scale the eastern flank of the Breithorn (13661 ft / 4164 m).  Now the easy route to the summit of the Breithorn is your standard snow slog.  The eastern route which we climbed is a lengthy traverse over many rocky spires at high altitudes with great exposure (1,000+ ft  drop on both sides).

With our only brief acclimitization to date, all of us were gasping for air as we climbed each rocky pitch.  Personally, this was one of my toughest climbing days ever, as with each lost breath I became more and more exhausted. With exhaustion, my ability to cope with extreme exposure also dwindled. Each step on to a narrow ridge frightened me and caused our team to slow down considerably. I learned that opportunities for rest and food consumption are limited on big exposed rocks, and that also did not help my mental state either. 

As we finally stepped off the rocky ridge, we slogged for about 45 minutes to the true summit of the Breithorn. I was weary and tired, but happy we finally reached the top of large peak. Truly it was fun, but damn it was a hard day.  The rest of the Breithorn photos can be found here.

After we climbed the Breithorn, the rain gods descended on the Alps. Our plans to climb Monte Rosa were thwarted by snow at high altitude and climbing our first objective had to be ruled out due to avalanche conditions.  The weather report for the next 4 days was bleak. Thus we turned our eye to our second objective, the Mittellegi route of the Eiger. Now the Eiger is in another portion of the Alps, up North near Grindelwald and Wengen. The weather up there was also predicted to be nasty, and in fact we got word that the hut on the Mittellegi was not even open due to snow. We inquired about the easier southern route, and that too was snowed in.  In the span of a day, our two major climbing objectives of this trip had to be canceled.

Dejected, our options were not that good. We seriously toyed around with the notion of heading to the sun of Southern France for rock climbing, but cooler heads prevailed. Zoe suggested we might have better luck in Chamonix, thus when given lemon, you make lemonade. We were off to Chamonix.

NOTE: Photos from Zermatt can be found on Flickr. These photos are from all the participants and retain all the rights entitled to each person. No photo may be reproduced without the permission of Climb For Kids or the original photographer.

This past weekend, Climb For Kids hosted the 2010 Mt. Baker climbing event in the North Cascades. We had limited participation, ok no one signed up for the event, so Michelle Maislen and I were just going to climb it for fun. However, one of my friends introduced me to Mark Steelquist who runs a Venture Crew organization for young adults. Mark informed me that his organization’s goals are to help teach ethics to kids via outdoor activities.  The emphasis on high adventure helps provide team-building opportunities, new meaningful experiences, practical leadership, and lifelong memories to young adults. I felt like it was a good cause, and Mark is an amazing guy.

Mark and I struck a partnership, where I’d help the young adults reach the summit and he’d help raise money for Climb For Kids. Combined forces can sometimes accomplish powerful things, and this was no exception.

On Friday, Michelle and I took our huge packs up to the camp sites below the Hogsback on Mt. Baker. Mark was already up there with 6 young adults preparing them for their new mountaineering adventure.  Our climb would take us up the Coleman-Deming route, which is fairly benign with crevasses scattered here and there. Thus, it was important for everyone to learn how to walk with crampons, perform a self-arrest, and understand the mechanics of crevasse rescue.

At dinner, Michelle and I gave “the talk” about mountaineering. The talk is supposed to be a sobering reminder that people die on mountains, and the instructors are the final word for any decision on the mountain. The team didn’t bat an eye. This group was great and they were already giving me grief over tiny details. The playful banter was fun. At 7pm we all went to bed, except me. I had to stay awake to watch an amazing sunset over the mountains.

At midnight the next morning, I awoke a little freaked out. Michelle’s watch stopped working and I had no idea what time it was. I absentmindedly left my watch at home, so we had no back up time piece. I thought we slept thru our summit time. Finally, Michelle dug out her cell phone and discovered we still had an hour til our wake up time of 1:00 am.  Well, I stayed awake for the hour thinking thru our route and my gear. I think I got a total of 2 hours sleep that night.

At 1:00, I awoke the team, we ate breakfast and tied in to our ropes by 2:00 am. The climb had begun. I had never been up this route, so I took the team a little off course up the hogsback, but after one rest period, we retreated to the main route up the Coleman glacier. Over the course of the next 6 hours, the team worked hard to climb the 10,700 ft mountain. It was a tedious snow slog, but the views were incredible. The sunrise was as spectacular as the sunset was the night before. These views were a good reminder of why I like to climb mountains.

Up on the football field (the flat crater of Mt. Baker that extends over the top of the mountain), our teams sequentially rested and patiently waited for everyone to catch up. At 9:00 am, the entire team as a whole, walked to the summit of Mt. Baker. 100% of our team summited, and the picturesque view over the North Cascades was our reward. This summit view is now my favorite summit view in Washington.

Overall, this climb was a ton of fun. I really enjoyed helping these young adults reach their goal. It was a great event, and it helped prepare me for the next challenge, which will be in the Alps in 2 weeks.

Photos from the event can be found on Flickr.

Dr. Martin Walker, the incredible fetal syndrome surgeon from Seattle and Dr. Peter Wall, the amazing obstetrician and Climb For Kids board member, summited Mt. Rainier a week ago following the Ingraham direct route up to the top. Accompanying them was Ian MacDuff, who had some rather peculiar coincidences with me two weeks ago on our hike up to Camp Muir.

The day was pretty special, apparently. While we were having terrible conditions in Seattle, the conditions on the mountain were good enough for a successful summit. I’d like to think they had a special guide for the weekend, as it actually was Father’s Day when they summitted. It was just all too weird that on Father’s Day, the two doctors who graciously helped my two daughters, were given a small window of opportunity to top out on the summit. And Ian, whom I barely know and amazingly has a daughter named Emma, was tapped to accompany them. In the photo above you’ll see Ian has my special titanium ice axe that will always display the names of my daughters.

According to the team, nothing out of the ordinary occurred while on the mountain, but that’s all the better. I could tell that Emma was with them in spirit, and helped these incredible folks reach the summit unscathed. Congrats to Ian, the two docs and the entire team.

Over the past weekend, I had the pleasure to escort Benni Sack up Ruth Mountain in the North Cascades. Benni has a special place in my heart, as she has been wonderfully sweet to me and my family during the tragedies over the last few years. Above you see a photo of Benni speaking at Emma’s memorial service 2 years ago while she was pregnant with her beautiful twin girls. She wanted to give more, so she asked me how, and I said why don’t you climb with us. And she did. Marvelously. She also raised close to $1500 and helped promote the Climb For Kids cause within our community. I was absolutely honored to take her up the mountain this past weekend.

I asked Benni if she could write a blog post about her experience. Here it is.

This year, when Matt posted the list of climbs for 2010 to benefit Climb For Kids, something inside of me wanted to give in a very physical way to this organization.  I had no idea how I would come up with the donations.  I had hiked, but had no climbing or mountaineering experience at all, almost no equipment to speak of, but I knew it was important for me to do this climb.  Without even really thinking about it, I told Matt that I would make the beginner climb, Ruth Mountain, on June 13th, 2010.  Then, I panicked.  DID I JUST VOLUNTEER TO CLIMB A FRICKING MOUNTAIN!?!?  But, I never shrank away from doing it.  I didn’t make it to my $3000 donation goal, but we made almost half of that money, enough to send 2 families for treatment, and it was enough.  Enough to do the climb.

When the week before the climb came, Matt contacted me.  He asked if I still wanted to do it.  That was my chance to back out!  No one else was going – just me and Matt.  But, I didn’t.  To my own surprise I didn’t back out.  I told him I would go.  I made arrangements with my husband to watch the girls.  I was going.  Now I had to get my climbing gear together and get myself mentally prepared to go.

Physically, I had been preparing, going to the gym and doing woodland all terrain walks while pushing the girls in the stroller, but I’m definitely not at fighting weight.  I’m a twin mom, and I have the mom body to go with it.  When I left for that climb I was at least 30 pounds overweight for my height.  At LEAST.  I am a very strong person but very rarely in my adult life have I been a small person.  I knew for a fact that this climb was going to test my metal  very seriously, but I knew that somehow I could commit to one step at a time and just do my best.  It was better than committing to nothing, which in the past would have been my normal thing to do.  I was committed.

The day came for us to go make base camp at Hannegan Pass, and I was nervous, excited, and as ready as I was going to be.  I had to rent boots and crampons, I had borrowed ski poles (which turned out to be too long for what we needed – Matt loaned me his), and all the other gear I pretty much had.  It wasn’t to a “t”, but what I had would definitely support the climb.  I remember being really nervous that Matt would laugh at my gear or I’d be in trouble for getting the wrong thing, but he wasn’t like that at all.  He was totally supportive and was confident that I could make it.

Our drive there was almost uneventful, really.  We left Seattle at 5:00 p.m. and stopped in Mt Vernon for Mexican food.  We got back on the road in Mt Vernon, and my GPS gave us a route that took us off the freeway and had us taking state highways to Glacier, which is the closest town to the trail head.  We decided to take the state highway route.  It wasn’t until we were about 28 miles off course that we realized that we were NOT where we needed to be.  We had to turn around and go back.  So, it was dark when we got to the trail head, which actually turned out to be no big deal because we pitched our tent under the shelter and went straight to bed.  The climb would commence at 6AM the next morning. Matt didn’t sleep very well.  Oddly I slept OK, even though my back and neck are often uncomfortable in my bed at home and I hate sleeping in the cold.

We got up about 5:20 the next morning and got our gear together to make the trip.  We had layers and waterproof shells, sunscreen, sunglasses, chap stick, water, food, and ourselves.  Well, crampons and boots as well.  I brought 2 cameras, both of which seem to have malfunctioned (bummer), but I had intended to completely document the climb.  Good thing I have my memory! (Matt’s Note: I was able to post some photos from my camera. You can find them up on Flickr – just click the link)

We set off from the parking lot on the trail.  The early part of the trail consists of wooded areas, stream crossings, and glacier slide areas, marked by tree falls sometimes, other times by snow and rocks.  I managed my first fall in the first 3 hours of the trek by sliding off a snowy trail.  Not long after that we put our crampons on, which was a WAY new experience for me.  When you are on non-snowy ground, they are not delicate instruments.  But on snow, they turn you into what Matt calls “Spiderman,” but they do not make it less strenuous to climb.  Not.

After the first 4 hours is where the real fun began.  First, we needed to start two serious grade vertical ascents to make it to the Hannegan Pass camping area and Pass.  That was Matt’s first goal – get to the Pass.  Man – by that time I was already feeling really tired and stressed.  But I listened to my inner voice and got feedback from Matt, and I decided that I could make it to the Pass and then reassess what I could do.  The climb was on – 300 vertical feet in snow, digging your foot in for each and every step up very steep terrain that was becoming more and more sloppy by the moment in the sun.  Matt could have paced me three of four times if we had been on a circular track.  But I had, after all, committed to one step at a time.  So, I just plugged away, one step at a time, going through waves of extreme fatigue and rejuvenating adrenaline, just moving forward at the pace that I could handle.  Which was slow.  I know it was really slow.  But I kept going.  I kept thinking through the pain about who this climb was for and how those babies and families feel and how I could help by keeping my commitment to this climb.  I thought about lots of things that day.

After much effort and three of the biggest hills I’ve ever seen and a couple of rest stops, I made it to the Pass.  This is where we sat down, had our first small meal, and decided if I could continue.  By then it was 11:30 am.  Still early.  the next goal was to make it to the Saddle @ 5696 foot elevation, from which you could see three peaks and an absolutely breathtaking view of the entire Cascades.  Mind you, I had not been sure that I would even be able to make it to the Pass.  But, I had made it.  And now we had more time to go on to the next goal if I wanted to.  I’d also learned some mountaineering skills to get me to the next goal.  Matt said the next part would be “easier.”  I grin when I think about that.  In hindsight the next part was not really easier, but we decided to do it.  We had time and we both felt that I had it in me to go on.  We lathered up with sunscreen, put on our glasses and packed up to leave the Pass and continue on.  The first part of the trip to the saddle was a much more gentle slope than the slope to the Pass had been, but man, I was tired.  Each step that went “up” from that moment on was propelled by me willing my feet to continue to move.  And it was that will alone that kept me going.  This was not a “hard hike.” I was climbing a mountain.  Really.  We made it over the first gentle slope and I got the first look at my two-part nemesis – the first part was a 500 ft gain over less than a 1/4 mile.  After all the climbing I just did, I though, “Yeah – right.  THAT’S TOTALLY HAPPENING- NOT!!!!”  But Matt said at the top was our next goal.  And we should try.  I looked inside, and I decided that I would feel really proud of myself if I made it to the saddle.  I decided that we should go.  THAT was a slow climb.  At one point I fell into a sink hole near a fallen tree where the snow was melting and panicked.  I had one leg in the hole and one leg in front of me with no strength left and no leverage.  But Matt watched as I got my leg behind me and used my hands and my iceaxe to push myself up.  I won’t lie – I was scared after that.  But I felt that if I could rescue myself from that tough spot then I could make it.  When we got to the top of the 500 foot incline, we hiked around the side of a hill through knee-high melting snow (ugh – double ugh), and up another couple hundred-foot incline to the saddle.  By that point my hips were hurting so bad, two of my toes were threatening to strike and each step was yuck yuck yuck!  But Matt had the Advil in his pack at the top, and if I wanted it, I had to climb to the saddle.  And I did it.  I made it to the saddle.  I have no idea how I made it.  We sat at the top together and looked out over nearly everything God has ever made and then I knew that I could be proud of myself.  That this wasn’t easy.  That not everyone could do what I did.  And I did it.  And then I could be very proud of myself. We drank some Red Bulls and looked.  We could see another team making the ascent to Ruth.  An ascent that I could not make that day, because I just wasn’t ready yet.  But, I knew that what I had done was special, and that it was OK.

We started down.  Somehow that seems like it would be easier.  And in some ways it was.  BUT, at the top of that 500 foot decline I knew I was in trouble.  About 1/4 of the way down, my feet, which were frickin’ jello at this point, slipped out from underneath me and I “accidentally” learned how to glissade.  A long way.  And I left my iceaxe and hat at the top where I fell.  I looked up at them and I thought, well, I guess that’s where they are staying because I cannot possibly go back up to get them. I started to cry.  Matt said he would go get them.  The thought of him having to go get them made me feel so ashamed.  I started to say how sorry I was over and over again through the tears.  Matt came up to me and said, “You don’t have to say you’re sorry anymore.  I don’t mind getting them.”  And it was at that moment that I realized that I am worthy of compassion.  That is was an accident and I didn’t have to feel bad that it happened.  I sat and ate some gummy bears and cried a little more while Matt went and got the stuff.  He says I did him a favor because he got to glissade back down, too, but I know that was tough, and I am so grateful for his kindness.

The rest of the trip honestly was cake after that, UNTIL, we got to the last third of the trip.  That was lonngggggg – for both of us.  By the time we were close to the car I was so banged up that I looked and walked like TIMMY from South Park, hobbling on ski poles and wincing.  I had the WRONG boots – hard plastic that were unforgiving as heck.  Not good.  I would get crampon-compatible hiking boots for next time. We did make it back to the car, and after a pit stop in Bellingham for some well-deserved Dairy Queen (I bought for Matt as payment for his retrieval mission), I was home.  Home with incredibly chapped thighs, sore muscles and a sense that what I did was a big deal.  I know it was a big deal to the kids and families that I helped.

I want to thank Matt for the opportunity to do this and for his excellent guidance.  We did it.  Thanks.