Each of us individuals is on our own particular set of journeys.
These journeys – they differ tremendously in regard to how much effort is required, what type of effort that is, and what is at stake.
Still, the tale of completing a journey follows similar themes, and it is to one particular theme that I wish to speak of today.
That is, whatever journey we’re on, there is one thing that truly matters while getting to where we want to be – and that is the ability to take the next step...
… followed by the next and the next and so on as we move through our messy and struggle-filled yet beautiful lives.
The following is a tale of one such journey – of chasing upward slopes – many, many miles of them – and a particularly tough part of the trip involving one particularly steep, tall, and seemingly endless slope up a mountain.
It isn’t a tale that too many would ever embark on. However, as I mentioned, it has a central theme that is relevant to anyone, no matter what is being taken on in life.
On August 7th, 2021, I did something big – something that pushed me far outside my comfort zone. And, it is something that took more effort than I think I’ve ever expended.
The short version: I woke up at 3:45 am, showed up to a starting line in Silverton, CO, and went on to run 100 kilometers (60 miles with 24,000 feet of elevation change) over the next 20 hours.
It started out nicely enough, with everything going according to plan. The initial miles went by as I cruised at a solid running pace, then continued as I gained thousands of feet. Then, they continued going by as I descended thousands of feet.
It was tough. I was tired. Various pains came and went. But, I was prepared for running, so I was happy when I checked in at the 30 mile (halfway!) aid station at what was exactly my predicted pace.
The race was going perfectly 🙂
After leaving the halfway aid station, all fueled up and TWO oatmeal chocolate chip cookies in hand, things changed drastically.
Fatigue, perhaps with a bit of undernourishment, felt like a wall. This was fine as I walked through a magical and relatively flat forest (a magical forest while munching on two cookies was plenty to keep me happy!), but when I crossed a creek (my first feet soaking) and the trail started heading steeply upward, everything changed.
This was the second serious climb, and by this point in the race, I was unhappy about it. The wall that was making me unable to jog through the relatively flat section was now forcefully pushing me down against gravity.
However, I pushed through, eventually finding the 40 mile aid station where I was able to better nourish my body with some bone broth and avocado tortilla!
This, combined with some clearing of the thick smoke, sent me into the next section on a much brighter note as I enjoyed the fantastic scenery.
The climb up to this pass was tough, but from here I was happy for a descent and to finish up the race.
I had been told this last section would be the most brutal part of the race, so I tried to set appropriate expectations.
But, really, I had no idea what was to come…
1 
2 
3 
4
Halfway down from the ridgeline, I was once again struggling. This portion of trail was, for the most part, unrunnable to my fatigued legs given that there was a serious lack of real trail.
Here I was, approaching the last main aid station, and in theory, just a nice dirt road away from Silverton.
Unfortunately, that wouldn’t be my course. Instead, I would be facing one more serious climb.
I had a short stay at mile 48 aid station, sipping some soup as I prepared for the sun to set. Then, before my hip flexors could completely seize up on me, I stood back up and headed out down a short section of dirt road, through a few more creek crossings, and as the final light was setting, I turned off the dirt road, across the grass and through the creek once again. On the other side, the trail pointed up.
Straight up….
… Water running down the loose idea of a trail.
… Water that quicky turned to deep mud.
Here, with mud-caked shoes, screaming hip flexors that continued to threaten to seize up, and a strong desire to warm up, I found myself alone in the trees on a steep trail.
I also had this piece of knowledge from the race director: that this trail would head up, and up, and up, and at some point I would think it’s over, only to find that it continued up.
Eventually, in theory, the incline would halt, and I would make my way allllll the way back down, cross the creek (again!) and make my way the final few miles to the finish line in Silverton.
Time to get this last section done with.
1 
2 
3
The Climb
As I began the climb, one thing was clear: I wanted to be done.
My feet, having been soaked for the last couple hours – were now caked in mud from deep and slippery sections that threatened loss of shoe or a solid fall on this steep trail.
My hip flexors – they’d been yelling at me for hours. But now, with the temperatures dropping, they were seizing up, forcing me to make each step a conscious power of will.
Oh, and it was COLD! The sun had set, and I had made a conscious decision to have a minimal amount of layers, which would have been just the right amount of layers if I could just keep moving.
If I could just keep moving…
The point is, I had had enough “fun” – and this led me to spend a good chunk of the climb in a mental battle.
A battle – as my thoughts screamed in my head.
Thoughts – the kind that were questioning every decision that led up to me climbing up this mountainside.
They were the kind that were determined to get to the root of what was going on.
A lot of this questioning was aimed at my own self… Why on earth did I choose this race? How could I possibly think this was a good idea. Why hadn’t I looked at the map closer and seen this ridiculous section of trail coming?
A lot of it was aimed outward… How could the race director have added this section of trail? Why did she place it at the end of the race? Couldn’t she have done it differently?
Why?
The negative thoughts rolled through me as the cold soaked into my bones and my hip flexors wailed.
But I had a mission to complete, and completing it was what needed to be done.
So, as I climbed step after step, I found moments of space in which I kept reminding myself of this:
That none of that mental chatter mattered one bit. It was all just noise that was making me miserable and distracting me from what was right in front of me – from what mattered.
What actually mattered was what was right in front of me:
The next step.
The next step – no matter how big or small – followed by the next and the next and so on… this is what would get me to the top of this ridge.
From there, whatever was on the other side – I would approach it the same. One step, followed by the next.
–
And guess what – it worked.
I took one step after the other, focused completely on releasing the noisy negative thoughts in my mind as I continued forward all the way to the finish line.
All the way down the other side of the mountain (which, to my utter displeasure, involved very little trail, lots of loose rock, and a steep cliff to my right that did not make me comfortable given my severely fatigued legs).
All the way down the mountain, to cross the river and finally hit a runnable section of trail.
All the way to the finish line…
… to a warm welcome.
… to some warm chicken soup and tacos.
… and all the way to my sleeping bag.
Not-so-fun story – shortly after this, as I was enjoying some food, my hip flexors finally did seize up, making even the teeniest step excruciating. Fortunately, my glutes were still working, so I was able to waddle a short distance to the parking lot into my car.
A Look at Chasing Upward Slopes
Whatever journey we’re on in life, it’s easy to get caught up in the noise:
- what’s going on out there?
- what is happening that I need to know about?
- what more can I know?
- what answers can I find?
It’s bad enough that there is always so much noise out there, but even worse is that we live with our own noise streaming through our minds as an endless stream of thoughts.
We tell ourselves these thoughts are helpful. Sometimes they are.
But other times… Well, other times it is well worth a good look at whether what is happening “up here” is useful, or whether it’s just holding us back and distracting us from what is most important.
Along our journeys, information can help us. We need some guidance, after all, or else we’d be lost.
But information can also cloud our minds and distract us from what is most important.
Being rational – thinking through our challenges – it can help us; but it can also distract us as we get caught in thinking too much while acting too little.
Determining who is responsible for our current problem: it can help us make better decisions in the future, but for what matters right now, it’s often useless and distracting.
However – for the problem at hand, there is one thing that matters: taking the next step.
–
As you are out there, #chasingpwardslopes as whatever that means for you, I hope you remember this.
In this modern world of ours, there is always going to be an abundance of noise.
Much of it will come from out there – from others who think they need to tell you what to do.
From your own self as you rationalize and blame and over-think yourself into paralysis.
But the trick is to be able to see through it all to what is right in front of you – to what matters most…
And what matters most is always taking the next step.
That’s how you climb mountains.
The small ones.
The large ones.
And the ones that, for whatever reason, come in waves, one steep climb after another.
A few more fun and random tidbits from the race
