4: Flashback - The Journey Begins. Training for Everest Base Camp
Below is a flashback to a previous experience I had and wrote about at the time: Hiking my first 4,000 foot mountain.
Pre-Hike Reflections
Today, we’re on our way to Waterville Valley, kicking off the first of many hikes in my journey to Everest Base Camp in October 2025. It’s a 2.5-hour drive from the Boston area (home), and we’ve picked up our friend John who will be joining us. We made a quick stop at The Common Man at the Hooksett Rest Stop, a nice little pit stop to fuel up before the hike.
As we drove, a memory popped up on my phone—a Snapchat video from August 26th, 2020. It took me back to a time when I was in physical therapy, just seven months post-op from a tib-fib osteotomy and ankle reconstruction with an external fixator (rods and metal holding my broken leg together). The fixator had been removed in July 2020, but not without complications. During surgery, a drill bit broke in my leg, causing nerve damage and a loss of feeling in parts of my foot, ankle, and leg. My proprioception was severely impaired, and physical therapy was all about retraining my body to understand where it was in space and how to move again.
Back then, I was barely walking on my own and still in a boot, only taking it off during PT. I genuinely thought I would never walk normally again, let alone embark on adventures like this. Adding Ehlers-Danlos syndrome to the mix only made it harder to imagine a future where I could move freely again.
But here I am, four years later, on my way to hike my first 4,000-footer. Through countless hours of physical therapy, unwavering determination, and endless support from friends and family (especially my husband), I’m taking on this challenge. It’s a step toward a much bigger goal—preparing to hike to Everest Base Camp in October 2025.
The Preparation
I’m feeling a mix of emotions—nervousness, excitement, fear, and anticipation. Will I hurt myself again? Will my joints hold up? How will my asthma fare? Despite these worries, I’m filled with a sense of strength and pride. I’ve come so far, and I’m ready to continue defying the odds (or gravity?)
Today, I’m well-prepared: a new Osprey backpack, 4 liters of water, gluten-free snacks, extra layers (because I’m always cold), a first aid kit, a satellite phone, and, of course, coffee. I’m also grateful to have my husband and our supportive friend John with me as we tackle this hike together.
The Hike: Midway Check-In
We’re now halfway up the mountain—1.25 miles in, which took us 45 minutes. For a first-timer, I think that’s a solid pace. According to my husband, I’m doing great. With each step, I’m feeling less nervous and more confident. The trail has a lot of stairs, which look daunting but aren’t as bad as I feared.
I noticed I was favoring my left side (since my right side is the “bad” side), so I slowed down, making sure to use both sides evenly unless a large step required leading with my left. We paused to take in the surroundings and have a snack—Babybel cheddar cheese and half a Glu wild berry stroop waffle. I’ve been drinking water along the way, and now, nature calls. The boys suggested finding a tree, so I did just that, grateful for the potty wipe I brought along.
I’m feeling good—minimal pain, a sense of joy, and the beginnings of that peaceful disconnection from everyday life. Now, it’s time to push on to the summit.
Reaching the Summit
We did it! We made it to the top. It’s a foggy day, so there’s no view, but I honestly don’t care. The fact that I hiked a mountain—a 4,000-footer at that—fills me with overwhelming joy and pride. It’s been years since I could do something like this, and the emotions are a mix of happiness for what I’ve accomplished and sadness for the years lost to surgeries and recovery. But here I am, sitting at the summit, preparing a Wild Zora meal, soaking in the moment.
Now, for the hard part—getting down.
The Descent: A Test of Strength
We made it down, but not without some challenges. Just as we began our descent, it started to sprinkle—not a big deal. But as we continued, the rain picked up, and the trail, mostly made of rock stairs, became slippery. I started to worry, hearing others slipping around me. Slipping isn’t an option for me—it could end much worse than for most.
I took it one slow, strategic step at a time, carefully placing my feet and trying to avoid the wet rocks. My knees started to ache, and my right hip joined in, so I knew it was time to offload some weight. I lengthened my poles and used them to take pressure off my “rubber band” joints. By this point, the rain was coming down hard, but with each step I took without slipping, I felt more confident.
My body was handling it, but my mind was also in the right place—taking things slow (a rare occasion for me), listening to my body, and recognizing that I need to do things differently from others. I’m not someone who usually moves slowly, but today, I embraced it, knowing it was what my body needed. Four years ago, I couldn’t control my leg at all, and today, I climbed up and down a 4,000-foot mountain.
Reflections on the Drive Home
As we drove home, I felt happy, tired, content, proud, and at peace. We stopped for dinner and coffee, a perfect end to the day. Reflecting on how far I’ve come, I’m amazed. There’s still a long way to go—both mentally and physically—before I’m ready for Everest Base Camp, but today has given me the confidence that my dream can become a reality.
Cheers to the next 13 months of training—bring it on!
