A little over a year ago…
I found myself gearing up for a second attempt at Mt. Rainier, Washington’s tallest, most glaciated peak, and a mountain that’s pretty much been taunting me since I moved to Seattle. My first attempt in July 2022 didn’t go as planned. I was part of a group roped together for safety, and my friend, Lisa (a different Lisa than who I climbed Rainier with the first time), was on my rope team. But about 3,000 feet from the summit, I had to turn back. I couldn’t breathe right, and now that I think about it, it might have been more of sheer anxiety than it was asthma. Cold and scared, I made the call to go back to Muir Camp with one of the guides, watching the sunrise as the others continued. I knew I’d return one day to reach the summit.
I signed up to climb Rainier again this September. I trained for months, starting in May of last year, with local hikes and workouts. But as the climb date crept closer, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I wasn’t ready. Despite the months of preparation, my confidence wavered. My recent ultramarathon training had taken longer than I’d hoped, which made me question if my fitness level was up to Rainier’s demands. A week out, I was running through every past climb, every hike, and every struggle in my mind. Doubts were swirling. I wanted to be confident and strong, not unsure and anxious.
The day before the climb, I talked it over with Lisa, who’s both my friend and my climbing coach. Together, we looked at my fears and my physical readiness, and ultimately, we agreed: maybe this wasn’t my time. Backing out wasn’t easy, but pushing on unprepared didn’t feel right, either. I wanted to take on Rainier when I could feel excited and capable, not weighed down by nerves and doubts. So, I pulled the plug.
The Financial Loss
Letting go of $4,000 in climb prep was brutal. It was a huge investment in my dream, and I lost all of it when I decided not to go. That last-minute call added pressure and guilt, making it hard to admit that I wasn’t in the best place for the climb. But at the end of the day, I knew my health and safety were more valuable than forcing myself up that mountain.
Sitting with the Decision
After cancelling, I was flooded with disappointment and confusion. I spent hours journaling, asking myself if I was being too cautious or maybe just perfectionistic. But as I sat with it, I realized it was the right decision. There’s a concept in mountaineering called “summit fever”—that intense urge to reach the top no matter what. I’ve felt it before. But this time, I didn’t want to let summit fever lead me. I wanted to make the call that was best for me, not one driven by pressure or pride. Knowing my limits, honoring them, and taking a step back took a strength I didn’t expect, and I’m proud of that choice.
Talking it over with Lisa, my friends, and my partner made all the difference. They didn’t question my decision; they understood. They reminded me that the mountain isn’t going anywhere and that sometimes, stepping back is part of the journey. They helped me see that turning around wasn’t a failure but a decision to come back stronger.
Looking Ahead: The Next Climb
I’m not giving up on Mount Rainier. In fact, I’m more determined than ever to succeed. I’m now scheduled to attempt the climb again in July 2025. This time, I’m focusing on building a solid base of fitness without specific objectives, allowing me to train more effectively and reduce the pressure of multiple goals.
This journey has reshaped how I approach challenges. Saying “I’m not ready yet” has empowered me to trust my instincts and make decisions that honor my well-being. It’s a reminder that we’re all a work in progress, continuously learning and growing from our experiences.
To Anyone in the Same Boat
If you’re facing a similar struggle—feeling unready but committed to a goal—it’s okay to take a step back. Saying “not now, but later” doesn’t mean you’re giving up; it means you’re planning to come back stronger. Trust yourself, prioritize your health, and remember that every setback is a setup for a greater comeback.
We’re all in this journey together, learning from our failures and celebrating our progress. Keep pushing, stay compassionate with yourself, and never stop believing in your ability to reach new heights.
When I finally stand on that summit, I’ll know I got there by honoring where I’m at—and that’s something I’ll always carry with me.
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