5/23/18, Pikes Peak, Colorado

Summit on Pikes Peak

Some people are built for challenge, called to battles of endurance and destined to climb the highest peaks. This was a topic of discussion for my brother Garin and I as we made our first attempt at summiting America's mountain, Pikes Peak, at 14,115 ft. in elevation. At the start of our hike on the Barr Trail when we still had breath in our lungs, we recalled all the tests of endurance that we had taken that proved our worth of attempting to summit this daunting mountain in a single day. Walking 13 miles up a mountain seemed incomparable to the physically demanding moments of both our pasts. Garin brought up doing 12 mile ruck marches with a 50 lb pack on his back during his time in ranger school with the U.S. Army and for me I couldn't have ever imagined that this 13 mile trek would be tougher than 4 years of high school wrestling.

We started off strong smiling at all the big rocks until we hit the last quarter mile of the Incline. The Incline is a mile long staircase to hell that consists of 2,744 steps straight up a hill with a 68% incline the last quarter mile. Just imagine taking a leisurely walk down a nice little path and then taking off into a full sprint with no end in sight. That should give you an idea of how our legs felt once we began walking up these steps. We ran into the Incline by accident, but figured it was smarter to finish climbing the first hill using the steps instead of back tracking on the Barr Trail to try to find the correct path. Garin set a quick pace for us, but then remodeled his strategy to a slightly slowed down pace after we both ended up needing two breaks. After about a half an hour of what was almost lunging straight up a hill, we reached the top of the hill and took a well deserved break. At that moment we both agreed we had our fill of the Incline for the rest of our lives.

Once we recovered, we ran into some confusion with our map. We discovered that the trail lengths and locations on the map didn't exactly line up with the actual trails. We chose to follow a ridge line that appeared like it went towards Pikes Peak. A sigh of relief came over me once we found our first sign directing us towards Pikes Peak after about half a mile of walking up the ridge. We reset our original pace and our legs felt fine. Our next stop was the Barr Trail campsite just 6 miles up the trail.

We stopped at the site for a quick snack and were greeted by some overly friendly chipmunks that Garin referred to as rats. We chowed down on some beef jerky that I was saving just for this occasion and with high hopes of completing the hike within the next couple hours we set off. The trail was immediately rougher than the previous 6 miles, so we slowed down our pace. We still managed to stay ahead of hikers we passed earlier near the Incline, but the space between us was closing in with every new mile.

It took us longer than anticipated to reach the tree line, but at least we were now able to see the top of the mountain. Thinking that we were reasonably close, I was shocked to see a sign that said we still had 2,000 ft. to go. At this point the altitude hit us harder than I would have guessed, which I blame on the fact that we both grew up in Florida. Mile stretches that were taking us 20 minutes a piece turned into about 40 minutes a piece. Terrain that gradually went up the mountain turned into rocks that almost fooled me into thinking I was back on the Incline. Our rapid pace slowed and the number of the breaks we took increased. The amount of talking also decreased as the power in our lungs shifted from making conversation to just focusing on breathing. Trekking poles became life savers as we used them to stab into the snow to keep us from slipping down the mountain. Although the pain was great, I didn't regret for a second our decision to challenge the mountain, because every time we stopped I could see all the progress we had made. Although we felt weak, our elevation was much greater than before. The feeling of being a failure that I often find myself surrounded by was beneath me and the peak that announces victory the moment you set foot on it's rocks was in sight. Only 2 miles left, 1,000 ft. to go and this mountain would be my footstool.

I started to feel jealous of the marmots that could scurry quickly across the mountain side and the birds that could shoot down to a place in the blink of an eye that we were at 30 minutes ago. God might not of given me wings or the ability to jump from rock to rock, but he did grant me a spirit of endurance. The closer I came to the top, the larger that spirit grew. We circled a 1,500 ft. drop and had one mile left. Something I could normally finish in 7 minutes, but I knew this last mile would be the longest of my life. Finishing that last mile, I began to feel the pride of achieving a prize that few could claim.

I asked myself why I was hiking this mountain. Why was I putting myself through so much pain with no clear reward? I wasn't getting paid to do it. There was no trophy sitting on top of the peak. What made all the pain worth it for me besides just creating a fond memory was to simply prove that I could do it; that I could push myself past the pain. I wanted to prove that no matter how tough the challenge, how long the battle or how high the peak, that I would stand on top in victory and that's exactly what we did.

Inspired by Garin Forsberg