When I told my boss that I wanted to join this expedition, his response was suitably mixed. “I think you are crazy! Six months! It sounds fantastic. Of course you can. If this doesn’t inspire adventure in people, what will?”

Thankfully, he also was suitably inspired to let Phil, my superstar mountaineering partner and husband, take three months unpaid leave from his full-time instructor post. Phil wanted to do the Everest section with me. So, after renting out our home, asking Phil to live in our camper van for the winter while I did the cycling and getting a healthy loan from the bank — I was off!

We joined Dom Faulkner, expedition leader and mastermind behind the EverestMax expedition. I was able to join 10 weeks before departure, due to another team member dropping out. Yes, I was there by default.

We began our journey on Dec. 18, 2005. Our team consisted of five cyclists and would-be Everest summiteers and two support members. What a fantastic team! It took a few weeks to settle into each other’s quirky habits and from then on banter ruled the day. The more adverse the situation, the more we rose to the challenge and made it fun.

We cycled through torrential rain, snow, sandstorms and wind. We had no choice: We needed to be in Kathmandu ready to leave for the mountain by April 1. We could not afford to stop for weather; we had 13 weeks to get to Kathmandu from Jordan!

The first day on the bikes was one of my most nervous. I was by far the oldest at 41 and least rehearsed at long-distance cycling. Our first day was 47 miles from the shores of the Dead Sea to Amman, with a height gain of more than 4,000 feet. Intimidated? Yes! Although I was the slowest, the supportive nature of the team was apparent from the beginning.

One outstanding feature of the bike trip was the consistent hospitality, welcome and generosity we experienced throughout our journey. My VIV moment came one evening in Pakistan after a long ride on a hot day. We were curious to see what the shouting was about over the wall from our compound. It turned out to be a soccer match on a full-size field for the locals. We climbed over the wall and watched. The men in our group were invited into play almost immediately, and the other female team member and I could not help but ask if we could join in.

The Pakistanis did not even hesitate. I was playing a fantastic game of football with Pakistani men and boys, some with shoes, some without, in the middle of their country. We were loving the energy, fun, skill and competition, and it all ended with big cheers and mutual congratulations on both sides. Why, I thought, couldn’t the whole world live like this, instead of being force-fed opinions from religious, political or extremist leaders?

We journeyed on, and when we got to Everest Base Camp, where we were joined by eight other climbers, including Phil. Our Sherpa team was responsible for putting our tents up at all the camps and getting the oxygen up there too. They were strong, brave and a joy to work with.

We passed very steep drop-offs and had to do some tricky mixed rock and snow climbing. We also passed three bodies that were humbling reminders that we were in the death zone.

At last, we reached the top. The weather was perfect, the views amazing. I was euphoric when I used the radio to call down to the team at the lower camp. They cheered and passed the radio around. It was a true team success, and I was the lucky one who could send the news from the summit.

The expedition has added so much to my life, and my perception of the Middle East has changed permanently. I think I was expecting to have a hard time in Iran as a woman and that I’d feel pity for the women there.

We spent a month in Iran and we loved every minute. The women were great, happy and interested in us without being jealous. The men were chivalrous and courteous. We should never judge or a country or its people by what we hear in the media.

When I got back home, I was asked to tell the story as a motivational talk for corporations and charities, and that eventually led to my making a career change. In 2010, my husband and I went part-time. We rent out our house, which means it pays for itself, and we now live in a motor home so that we can play for six months a year and work for six months. This has given me the time to write a book called The World’s Longest Climb (Grafica Unlimited, 2011) and become an inspirational speaker. I love telling the story and being able to share it through the book. Life is sweet.

In 2003, I had an epiphany, my VIV Moment, on a winter training run in Colorado. I looked at my reflection in a store window as I ran by and thought, I want to feel pretty! I ran home and started scribbling the basis for what is now SkirtSports, a company aimed at creating attitude- (and curve-) enhancing fitness products.

SkirtSports has grown in less than three years into an international company that provides hot, sexy, sassy fitness clothing to women runners, cyclists, triathletes and fitness enthusiasts. We also started a line of girls products, because a fit lifestyle needs to be ingrained while we’re young.

I still work out everyday and jump into races when I can, but my new passion is inspiring women to include fun fitness in their lives. I am involved in every aspect of SkirtSports and I learn more every day than I ever would have imagined. In the end, I just wanted to create something cute that I could work out in. I never expected the overwhelming response of women who claim that the “Power of Skirt” has changed their lives. It’s a great feeling.

The show caught my attention as I was channel surfing. It featured a cute guy in spandex with a few friends and a bird working out on the beach. His attitude was so inviting, I couldn’t pass up the show. It was as if he was talking to me through the TV. He said things like, “Get up off of that couch and work out! I can see you!” He also would grab the attention of the tourists who were visiting Hawaii and get them to work out in the middle of the show. His passion was contagious. I couldn’t resist working out with him, and I soon found myself in a routine of positively addicting exercise that would later be the tool that I needed to help me get through some extremely tough life experiences. I learned through Gilad from afar how to manage stress and maintain mobility, strength and flexibility. Thank God for Gilad and his inspiration!

I always wanted to write him and tell him about my weight loss and how he inspired me, but that didn’t happen until many years later, when tragedy struck my life. During my second pregnancy, I gained an unhealthy 80 pounds. Not only did I gain weight, but I developed a crippling autoimmune disorder that would change my life forever. Along with my physical problems, I also developed post-traumatic stress syndrome following my father’s suicide while I was in the hospital having emergency surgery to deliver my daughter.

It’s really difficult to express the extent of the challenges that I was facing mentally and physically. But when I felt like the walls were caving in, my thoughts turned to Gilad and his inspiring, motivational fitness routines. I immediately began to do what I could to exercise. I felt like I could win my life back through fitness. There were many days I could not do it all, but I pushed myself and struggled until I worked the mental and physical pain out of my body. I was determined to win and knew that exercise could get me through. I would often awake in the middle of the night and put on a Gilad workout video and just do it until my fears went away. Working out with his encouragement gave me hope.

It took a lot of hard work, but I pushed hard until, finally, I lost 92 pounds, gained control of the autoimmune disorder, maintained my mobility and regained my quality of life. If it wasn’t for that guy on the beach in the tight spandex pants with the bird, I truly believe I wouldn’t have known about fitness. Gilad instilled in me the empowering feeling of believing in myself, inspiring me to succeed, overcome adversity and be a success story.

Oh yeah, there’s more… I finally wrote Gilad and told him about his inspiration and the positive way it had affected my life. All I wanted was to thank him; I never really expected that he would read my letter. Guess what? He not only read my letter, but I ended up in Hawaii on an all-expense paid trip to work out on the beach with Gilad and his friends. (The bird wasn’t there. You’ll have to ask him what happened to that bird.) It was a dream come true for me. All I wanted was for him to read my thank-you letter. I got more than I ever imagined. As if that wasn’t enough, I was called back to do another promotion in Hawaii. It happened again, and I enjoyed every moment of it!

My life has taken a turn for the best. Tragedy turned to triumph and I’m no longer sulking in self pity. I have a new career path and fitness goals. I truly believe that miracles can happen and fitness is so healthy, mentally and physically.

When Gilad was inducted into the Fitness Hall of Fame, I was there for the ceremony. I also was honored to meet many other fitness celebrities such as Linda Shelton,Tony Little, Keli Roberts, and John Abdo. Meeting all of these fitness experts was so uplifting; I have never felt so inspired!

I still struggle on a daily basis with my medical conditions, but we all have obstacles. I’ve learned that you just have to keep trying, never give up, find that inspiration, believe in yourself — and dream big!

First I found out I had arthritis, then fibromyalgia, rheumatoid arthritis, a deteriorating spine, carpal tunnel, a brain tumor, hearing loss, deteriorating joints, thyroid disease, hiatal hernia, IBS, herniated discs in my neck, and now this surgery for two discs which had been crushing my spinal cord for two years, causing pain in my back, hip and leg and also causing problems with my bladder and bowels.

Yes, it hit me hard that I wasn’t going to make it back to the gym and get into the same shape I had been in years prior. I needed to finally face the fact that I was and would probably always be an invalid. The funny thing is that once I accepted it, it was like this wave of pressure to hurry up before I get too old (I’m 52), was lifted.

While I still get depressed about my health and the pain remains, I now approach everything one day at a time, doing the best I can with what God gave me to work with.

My legs were aching before I even stopped, probably not helped by bumping — not literally — into friends on the way back, which meant I took a break to chat for longer than I should have. Consequently, I stiffened up when I set back off at a slow trot up the hill onto the Tye.

That’s when I realized it was actually quite cold — either that or the wind had changed and the temperature dropped while I was out. I pulled off my hat, gloves and windbreaker as I ran along the under-cliff, dodging walkers, cyclists and dogs, but up on the Tye there was a cold, northerly wind blowing, so I’d bundled back up as my ears went numb. I made it home having run most of the way, except for the hill out of Saltdean.

I can feel my muscles aching already so goodness knows what state I’ll be in tomorrow morning when DOMS (Delayed Onset Muscle Soreness) has set in (if it does). I do stretch after my runs but it doesn’t always help, at least not for a gentle plodder like me. Those lean, mean running machines who take long distances in their stride are a little more dedicated and probably wouldn’t even notice a short little run like I’ve just done. But for me, a relative beginner, every extra mile that I run is another achievement, a VIV Moment along the way to reaching my personal best.

One of my regular students had an old shoulder injury that hurt so bad she could not sleep on that side of her body. After a few sessions of my Iyengar yoga class, this woman was able to sleep on her healing shoulder. She continues to improve her old injuries and manage pain with her yoga studies. Stories like hers reassure me that I am traveling along the right path.

One of the most empowering personal experiences I have had was teaching myself how to snowboard. I did not start out with much athletic ability when I moved to the mountains for a winter season. Snowsports were not familiar to me, and even skiing was too much of a challenge, so I tried snowboarding. I spent a lot of time facedown in the powder, all alone on that cold, snowy mountain.

But I didn’t give up, and one day it all clicked. I had my VIV Moment. I found myself tearing down the side of the mountain, wind in my face, completely in control of my board and myself, and it was the best feeling I have ever had. Suddenly it was easy; I let go of being afraid at that moment. A sense of gratefulness and calm came over me, and I experienced pure joy as I flew through the snow. In the months to follow, I reaped many benefits from mastering this initially difficult sport.

To me, menus sound like poetry, so here are the verses to last night’s eating experience:

Crackers, three cheeses and nuts; spinach salad with Braeburn apple;
Roasted walnuts, and celery;
Fresh-baked, stone-ground wheat bread, served with butter and honey;
Broccoli and three-cheese casserole;
Pork and elk pot roast with white beans, cranberries and fresh sage;
Fresh-baked gingerbread Christmas cookies

On top of that, two of our guests brought some beer and wine, making it a complete celebration.

Another aspect that added spice to the evening was the age spread among our guests — it probably ranged from 25 to 75, or thereabouts. In fact, the oldest guest, who lives right down the street, was the person who had provided an essential component to the entire gathering: a table. In addition to my table-giving friend, our guests included another neighbor, much older than us, who is a riot and a fun person to hang out with, and three of our climbing friends.

Our older friends, who have both dealt with more than their fair share of bodily damage throughout their lives, still manage to be vital and alive despite the inconvenience of not functioning nearly so well as they did when they were young. And yet I see in these two old warriors the same type of fiercely independent and self-defined personas that I see in my younger friends as well as myself: They can’t help the wearing out of their vessels; this happens to everyone, and it is our future, too. I don’t see any reason why they shouldn’t be part of our celebration of friendship, why folks of all ages shouldn’t be able to hang out comfortably together … our minds ain’t all that different, after all. Perhaps this is something that I learned long ago from climbing, when, at 17 and just starting to rock climb, I suddenly found that most of my new circle of friends were a decade or two older than me, but they didn’t ever treat me like a stupid kid. Why does our culture tend to separate people by ages? It’s kind of weird. Older people are just like you and me, only they probably know a hell of a lot more and possess way more wisdom about the ways of the world.

The presence of our climbing friends set my mind in motion, too, though on a totally different track, about something that’s just sort of a reality of living here in Wyoming, and that I tend not to even think twice about: They all hail from the other side of the mountains, meaning they had to drive over a snowy mountain pass to make it here. But as we were all discussing, living here we tend not to even really think about driving what would be considered huge distances in more congested areas in order to just hang out with one another for an evening or a day. Friendship and the promise of laughter and a fun time makes it worth the effort, and the driving is, frankly, beautiful, if not frightening sometimes. (As our friend Cliff noted, there were times on his drive last night where the snow was so bad he couldn’t see the road, but he was just like, “I’m goin’!”)

So as the folks from out of town rolled in, we sat down to eat, and it was just a beautiful sight for me to see: these wonderful people, young and old, interacting and laughing and being real with each other and just having a good time and sharing a meal together, with sparkling eyes and happy voices. After the older neighbors left, we hung out a little while longer, and then we all crashed out (no driving over the pass at midnight; that’s another reality of long-distance hanging out here: You often end up spending the night wherever you’ve gone for entertainment).

The next morning, I got up and lit the fire I’d set up the previous night to ignite first thing in the morning; the house was 58 degrees. I sat in front of the stove and soaked in the hot air blowing out at me while I drank my coffee and read my morning reading and meditated, and then everyone started rolling upstairs — by that time, the house was a comfortable 70 degrees. We assembled for waffles, bacon and delicious fruit brought by Aaron and Tracy that a neighbor of theirs had brought to them from California, as well as coffee for everyone else (I was saturated already). I giggled inside to watch my dog, Maple, position herself basically lying on Cliff’s feet; she was just so happy to see one of her very best buddies! She definitely has her favorites.

And then, to me, something sort of strange and unexpected but really great happened: the idea of going out and climbing in our gym (at this point, I’d been injured with some torn muscles for nearly two months and hadn’t climbed since October) for a little bit started getting tossed around. Everyone seemed game, so Matt went and kicked the heat on out there to let it heat up a little first. About 10 minutes later, we all headed out there. I wasn’t really sure what to expect … I’d hung off the pull-up bar after running yesterday, and I felt that I still couldn’t do a pull-up without doing some damage, but I thought, “Well, why not try it a little?”

Apparently, Matt thought the same thing of his injury (strangely, he was injured the day after me in a mountain biking accident); and I have to say, Matt has been working his butt off at his physical therapy routine, stretching and doing strengthening exercises with the rubber-band thingy, surgical tubing, I think. Anyway, I started climbing, and though I definitely still have to protect my injury a bit (i.e., no left-hand leading dynos, no swinging out on the roof angle and letting my feet cut loose, no really hard pulls yet), it felt really, really, really good to just move around on the wall for about an hour. I just took it easy, grabbing jugs and using whatever footholds I could. Meanwhile, Matt managed to climb a few times, and though he said it really felt like he probably shouldn’t be climbing again yet, it gave him the confidence and uplifting feeling to know that he will indeed climb again … I even saw him do a couple of moves that none of us, the less-injured or not-injured, could probably ever do. That’s Matt!

Anyhow, I felt, more than anything, not pain (though there was a little of that) but rather, just a sense of weakness in my injured area, so when our guests called it quits, even though I still sort of wanted to climb, I made myself stop, too. That’s the smart thing; I got this injury from overdoing it and not being smart. It’s not just from a single event, it’s from never taking a lengthy break to allow my body to recuperate from the constant abuse of climbing.

After everyone left (much to Maple’s dismay; she curled into a ball and looked at them with big, woeful eyes while they said their goodbyes), I did my ab workout, stretched and then went for a run. I found myself jogging along, exhausted and fighting a bone-chilling wind, but with a big smile plastered on my face. Why? Climbing.

Even that small amount of unimpressive gym climbing left me feeling just amazing, just incredible, and even more sane and excited and alive than I’ve felt in a long time … when I went to Vegas, I was still too broken for climbing to really feel that way, that fluid and natural and just absolutely me feeling, back in my own skin and true to what I am. I don’t know, it’s like climbing is an expression of me and I am climbing when I climb, and from the inside, as the one experiencing my body as it moves, it feels like a natural and beautiful and flowing experience of just movement and being in the moment, and it’s not at all like running or hiking or biking or anything else I’ve ever done. I suppose I like playing pool because it’s rather consuming in the same way, but it lacks that raw muscle power combined with finesse; it’s more finesse and motor control, but you don’t need power in the same way to be a decent pool player. So yeah, climbing … such a great, great feeling. And it was the perfect reintroduction, climbing with a group of good friends to hang with and laugh with, all of us too lazy to go retrieve a CD from the house, so stuck listening to staticky, crappy country music on an AM station.

Running out there (where yesterday, prepare for an aside here, but yesterday, I was running and these cows were on both sides of the road, and they’d dropped a fence on either side so that the herd could flow from one side to the other, but some of the herd had moved away from this passage; anyhow, two cows started getting herded by Maple and me, and I was thinking to myself, “What are they going to do? They have nowhere to go but away from the herd … ” and I was feeling kind of bad about this, but then, much to my surprise, one of them jumped the barbed-wire fence, choosing a spot where it was maybe three-and-a-half feet tall and a downhill jump, and the other one followed … I didn’t even know cows could jump at all, and it looked pretty funny but was very impressive at the same time; it’s so cool how ordinary things can do such unexpected things and just wow you, if you watch your world) …

Anyway, running out there today, I was thinking about how ebullient I feel just from one hour of totally meaningless climbing (as if any climbing really has any sort of meaning), and I realized that I will climb for the rest of my life, until I can’t. And I will try to take a month off every year from now on not only to heal my wounded body, but also, to recapture the truth of why I climb and why I ever started climbing and what it is that I love so much about it: the movement, the movement, and the movement! There is no other activity I’ve ever done that even comes close to feeling like what climbing feels like; it is absolutely the most incredible and amazing experience to move up vertical terrain that way, like water, flowing, finding the path of least resistance and basically being like an anti-gravity waterfall.

So I didn’t make it for the whole two months off from climbing, and you know what? That’s just fine … I’ve learned to not be too attached to these sorts of structures and definitions; they’re just ideas, and it’s better to just let things unfurl as they will instead of clinging to parameters when they become irrelevant. Today’s climbing, after the evening of feasting and enjoying each other’s presence, was the perfect way for me to start climbing again. It was time. That’s not to say I’m going to go back at it full force, but I’ll be dabbling a bit here and there, testing the shoulder/armpit as I build it back up gradually.

As I struggled through the surf, choking down gulps of salty water and trying to catch a breath between the smack of the waves, I started getting really scared and thought I might not make the 100 feet back to the shore. Panic comes quickly for me when I’m swimming like that … fighting with every stroke, feeling so vulnerable and “out of control” in the open waters of the bay. I was suddenly struck by how much this crazy-hard swim symbolized my personal and professional life at the time: pushing through fear, relaxing into — instead of resisting against — the unknown, going on when I wanted to give up, allowing something bigger and stronger and more powerful than me to be in control.

I stopped swimming, took off my goggles and just looked across the water. The sun was starting to melt away the fog around the Golden Gate Bridge. Everything had that magical, crisp, pink and blue, bright and fresh early morning glow about it. A flock of pelicans flew over my head, so close that I could hear the flap of their wings. I felt so very alive right then that the wave of fear and frustration nearly drowning me moments earlier broke and simply washed away. I laughed out loud at how miraculous it all seemed.

When I started swimming again, I relaxed and let the ocean be the ocean and allowed myself to be a “good-enough” swimmer to reach the shore. I realized for me, sometimes surviving is more than just living, it is about being alive.

I decided to set a goal and run a marathon. I began training with two of my friends (who both ended up dropping out three months before the marathon, leaving me to train by myself). I made sure to do my short runs during the week and my long runs on Saturdays.

Every Saturday morning leading up to the marathon, I would say good-bye to my husband and go run for 2 to 3 hours alone with my iPod. To this day I am not sure how I did this by myself! But the alone time was valuable and extremely beneficial.

The week before the 2006 Los Angeles Marathon, although I knew I was ready, I was incredibly nervous. I didn’t want to do run it alone. When I went to the expo the Friday night before the Marathon, all of my fears disappeared and I was excited.The morning of the race, I found a friend from high school who also was running the Marathon. I will never forget the excitement I felt while standing with her and all the runners at the starting line.

The gun went off and we started to run. The shuffling of everyone’s feet was an unbelievable sound. I have never felt more motivated to run. I was fine until the last three miles of the race. I was on my way to my best time, but my quads locked up and I had to slow my pace down. There was no way I was going to stop. I remember seeing my dad at the finish line and he was yelling “Jess, just keep going! You’re so close!” I swore someone was pushing the finish line farther away from me, but I managed to cross it. I completed the marathon in 4 hours and 21 minutes.

I have had many accomplishments — being accepted into my first choice college and business school, and getting married. This was different though. This was all me. Running the 2006 Los Angeles Marathon was truly the most incredible thing I have ever done.

Yet he coaxed me to sign up as a relay team. He did the swimming and bicycling events and I did the run segment.The running route happened to pass the site of our wedding 3 years ago and this was where my husband stood to cheer me on and encourage me to bring our relay team to the finish line. It was a reminder of how the vows we had taken were really all about being a team and that it’s important to take the time to reflect upon how strong our partnership had become.