Mt Whitney Hike: Climbing Mt Whitney Trail and Our Journey to the Top

To celebrate our wedding anniversary this year, we ventured out to summit Mt Whitney, the highest peak in the contiguous United States at 14,505 feet. And truthfully, it was one of the most challenging yet rewarding experiences I’ve ever had, outside of birthing my babies. 

Not only was it special to share this experience with my husband, but it also had deep personal meaning for me on this journey of healing my relationship with my body.

Climbing Mt Whitney has actually been on my bucket list for more than a decade. I grew up right outside the southern Sierra Nevadas, and we’d always drive past Mt Whitney on our way up to Mammoth, a family favorite skiing destination. It was a peak to be conquered, but in reality, I had much bigger obstacles to overcome in my life. 

My Struggle With an Eating Disorder and Hypothalamic Amenorrhea

To give you some background, I struggled with an eating disorder and compulsive over-exercising from my late teens into my early twenties. As a result of severely under-eating and overexercising, I developed many harmful side effects, including hypothalamic amenorrhea or HA. 

Hypothalamic amenorrhea is a condition in which a woman loses her menstrual cycle. In my case, I hadn’t had a normal period for years, putting me at risk for infertility, bone loss and cardiovascular disease due to estrogen deficiency in my body. But of course, I didn’t understand the magnitude of what I was facing at the time. I actually believed I was better off not having a period. I mean, how convenient, right? 

When my eating disorder began around age 17, the only thing I cared about at the time was my performance as a varsity cross-country athlete. It was my senior year of high school, and I had my sights set on a collegiate scholarship for running. Unfortunately, I spiraled out of control and engaged in harmful eating disorder behaviors that wreaked havoc on my body. This persisted through my college years, where sadly, I spent the majority of my undergraduate time hyper focused on food, exercise, and my body. 

At the peak of my eating disorder, I was too sick to understand how unwell I truly was. Someone could’ve tried to talk to me until they were blue in the face all about the dangerous consequences of my eating disorder, but it wouldn’t have mattered. I was functioning well-enough, so I thought, with little regard to the long-term consequences the eating disorder toll was taking on my body and mind. 

It wasn’t until I was met with the prospect of starting my own family did I start to consider the role of the eating disorder in my life. Until then, I believed it was something I would chronically “function” with; that is, until I began to understand the things it had taken from me. 

I’ll never forget when a doctor looked me square in the face and told me I might never be able to have children. A least biologically. The combination of excessive exercise, under-eating and out-of-control stress has suppressed my endocrine and reproductive system, which meant starting a family naturally would be out of the question. 

Needless to say, that was a huge wake up call for me. 

I was engaged to the love of my life and couldn’t imagine not being able to grow a family together. I also began to realize how much of my mental space and energy my eating disorder had taken over. I couldn’t be present in my life for the things that mattered most when I was utterly consumed by what I ate and how much I exercised. Enough was enough, and I was determined to get the help I needed to get better and heal. 

My Path to Healing and Recovery

It wasn’t something that happened overnight, but gradually, my body did heal. Recovering and healing from a mental illness, like an eating disorder, is something that requires both physical and mental treatment. For me, that included therapy and counseling. It also involved increasing my overall nutrition intake and improving my eating behaviors, developing better coping skills to manage stress, and quitting exercise. 

Yep, you read that right: I had to quit exercising in order to get healthy again. 

From the outside world, it could seem like the most backwards thing to do: Eat more, move less? 

But it was EXACTLY what I needed to do to give my body space to heal and recover. In the absence of adequate nutrition and under the pressure of overwhelming stress from TOO much exercise, the body can’t function properly. And that was exactly what was happening to me. 

Truthfully, this was way easier said than done. I was okay with increasing my intake and learning how to better feed my body. I’d discovered the philosophy of intuitive eating and totally resonated with the idea of relearning how to listen to my body once again. But after only knowing the extreme forms of hunger and fullness, it was a process of reconnecting with my body’s cues once again. 

Letting go of exercise was a whole other beast. 

It had been such a big part of my identity over the years, I didn’t really know how to function without it. But the more I gave myself permission to just be and not be doing all the time, the more I came to lean in to this season of restoration and healing.

It was a relief to not have to use exercise as a way to punish myself, perform or in an attempt to manipulate or control my body. I no longer needed to calculate how long I needed to work out to compensate for what I had eaten or binged on that day. It was a process of being gentler to my body and learning to make peace with it as it began to change through the healing process. It was learning to grieve an ideal body and make peace with my changing body through the process. While I had made progress in healing my relationship with food, I continued to struggle with body image for some time.

Thankfully, a byproduct of recovery was healing from hypothalamic amenorrhea. My period did come back, which allowed me to grow and birth 5 beautiful babies into the world. 

For me, an ongoing part of my recovery had meant renegotiating my relationship with exercise and making peace with food. This meant finding new ways to move my body that were respectful and supportive of the season of life I was in. Over the past 10 years of growing and raising babies, that has looked like taking walks around the block and playing with my kids at the park or swimming in the ocean. It hasn’t looked like anything it used to be, but that is a good thing. 

So what does this all have to do with climbing Mt. Whitney? 

Climbing Mt Whitney Trail

Fast forward to this year, my husband and I decided to enter the Mt Whitney lottery to see if we would be drawn for a day-hike permit, which would allow us to climb the Mt. Whitney trail. 

It was one of those late night spontaneous decisions, where we threw our names on the list and waited for the outcome. My husband had summited Mt. Whitney years prior, before we were married. And as I shared, it was something I had always wanted to do but didn’t really have the opportunity. Now with our youngest being old enough to stay with family overnight, we seized the opportunity and put our names on the list. 

Almost 2 months later, we were notified we received Mt Whitney permits and were eligible for hiking Mt Whitney in August of 2020, coincidentally two days after our anniversary. Of course, we were elated, and I was also nervous. Climbing Mt Whitney is not necessarily an easy weekend hike. It would require some training - both distance and elevation, to prepare for ascending the summit and Mt Whitney elevation at 14,505 ft while carrying a pack weighing about 30-35 pounds. 

Outside of walking and playing with my kids, I hadn’t trained for anything (at least seriously) since my cross-country days. The only time I’d trained for anything significant was while in my eating disorder and when engaged in extreme food and exercise rules. In that regard, this was a new experience in itself. 

In those days, I would’ve followed some kind of rigid eating and exercise plan and obsessed over how much I trained and worked out. But not this time around. I’m thankful what the last decade plus has taught me about listening to and honoring my body, and I knew I could continue to carry this through training for Mt. Whitney. 

I did research some of the training recommendations out there, just to get an idea, but many of the training protocols were simply too arduous or just straight up unrealistic for me, being a mom with 5 kids.

Round trip, the Mt. Whitney trail covers 22 miles, climbing over 6,000 feet up to the summit from the base of the trail.  Many experienced climbers recommended getting in several hikes of 15+ miles over the course of the weeks leading up to the climb, but that just wasn’t going to be feasible for us, especially during this pandemic season where childcare has already been slim-to-none. So we just committed to doing the best we could with the time we had. 

For me personally, I knew right off the bat that my approach to training had to be different than anything I’ve done before. 

This meant preparing in a way that honored my body rather than punish it, as I had done in years past. It meant being intentional about eating enough to cover the extra energy expenditure for long training hikes and giving myself sufficient time to rest and recover between hiking sessions. It also meant listening to my body and responding to it, rather than ignore it and deny it. 

When I was struggling with my eating disorder and compulsive exercise addiction, I pushed myself through pain, forcing myself to train and workout, even if I was injured and sick. 

But no more. 

I knew I could train without hurting my body, choosing to honor it by responding to the signals it was giving me. 

So with these intentions on my sights, we set out for the summit. We trained over the course of about 2.5 months by doing extended hikes on local trails once per week on the weekends (thanks to our awesome babysitter!). Outside of our long weekend hikes, I went for 2-4 mile walks a few times during the week. But at no point did I push myself beyond what I felt like I could comfortably do. It was invigorating and freeing to be able to train for something in a way that upheld my commitment to honoring my body and my relationship with food. 

Mt Whitney Day Hike and Our Journey to the Top

Before we knew it, our lottery date arrived, and we were ready to make our ascent to the top of Mt. Whitney.

I had my sights set on summiting with my husband, but I knew I couldn’t push my body unnecessarily. That meant pausing, taking breaks when needed, getting enough fuel and staying hydrated along the way. It also meant stopping and turning around if needed, and I was prepared to do that.

From what we read, most hikers set out for the Mt Whitney day hike trail anywhere between 2am - 4am to make the round trip that would take an estimated 12-18 hours. 

Being the optimist that I am and a chief night owl, we compromised on starting our day at 4:30am. But by the time we packed up, checked out of our hotel, and drove up to the trailhead, we didn’t actually start hiking until 6:30am, which was a late start by any expert standards. We aimed for slow and steady, keeping one foot in front of the other and stopping for short periodic breaks to rest and refuel. 

Right from the start, I needed to pull out my hiking poles. I wasn’t used to the elevation, and being that we live at sea level, I knew the high altitude would be a challenge. 

The Mt Whitney trailhead starts at 8,600 feet, and the highest altitude we’d trained at was 2,000 feet. But I just kept my eyes ahead, focused on my breath and stayed hydrated. 

The richness of the scenery around me was enough to keep my mind preoccupied. Words or pictures won’t do it any justice to describe the depth of beauty around us. It was particularly meaningful to me coming out of a 6-month quarantine season due to the pandemic. We haven’t really gone anywhere during this time, and it was surreal to take in the majesty of the mountains around us as we made our way through the hiking trail. It was also such a blessing to spend solo time with my husband, since date nights were far and few between, especially since the pandemic hit. 

Since my husband was more familiar with the trail, he pointed out milestone markers along the way. 

We passed beautiful lakes, waterfalls and crossed through rivers and streams. The pines trees towered over us like giants as we made our way up, which became sparser as we eventually climbed above the treeline. 

Around 10am, we made it up to Trail Camp, a spot where many hikers stop to camp among the boulders and crumbling granite, around 12,000 feet elevation. We stopped to take off our packs, rest and refuel. At that point, I was feeling well enough, better than expected actually. The air was sparse, but I wasn’t yet feeling affected by the altitude. We made sure to get food in our bodies before making the ascent up the notorious switchbacks - 97 of them to be exact, which weaved their way up through the sheer cliff sides.

Fortunately for me, my husband is the best storyteller and helped keep my mind preoccupied with a good story as we wound our way up, back and forth. I was intentional about NOT counting the switchbacks so as to not torture myself. 

At Trail Camp before going up the switchbacks. Mt Whitney summit is to the far right.

I’m not going to lie - they were challenging, to say the least. My legs felt strong going up; it was really the altitude that had made it difficult. It was getting harder to breathe, and my head was starting to pound. We were aware of the signs of altitude sickness, so I was mindful to continuously scan and check in with my body while making the ascension. And side-note, I’m also afraid of heights, so I was trying not to look down at the sheer cliff sides we were passing as we climbed higher and higher. One section of the switchbacks was bordered by cable railings on one side, which I was grateful for, as the steep cliff sides loomed below. 

Once we made it to the top of the switchbacks, we were rewarded with the most incredible view of the Sequoia National Park.

It completely blew me away, and it was hard to take it all in. And while it felt like we had summited and were already on top of the world, we still had about 2 hours of steady climbing to do over the trail crest. 

With less than 2 miles to go, it was hard to fathom that we were still so far away. But at this point, the trail was all rock and granite. At some points of this part of the trail, we had to climb over boulders and scramble over the rocks on our path. We passed by  the most incredible rock formations and columns, as well as sheer drop-offs that were honestly difficult and gut-wrenching to pass by. 

There were also a few “windows” we passed as well on our way to the top, which were openings that allowed us to see out toward the east side and into the Inyo National Forest. I couldn’t bring myself to look out when we did pass these massive crevices. I just kept my eyes ahead on my husband’s shoes and tried to find a rhythm with my breath. 

I was really struggling with the altitude at that point. I felt nauseous and was battling a constant, dull headache. We stopped only briefly, and I knew I needed to keep fueling my body, even though my appetite was completely wiped at that point. 

We shared a roll of Mentos, which did the trick and gave us a quick spurt of energy to help us continue on. There were a few brief moments where I was visited by anxiety, my old friend, and some intrusive thoughts about falling or slipping off the side of the sheer mountain cliffs. My husband was my biggest cheerleader and encourager, and we persisted, step by step. I just kept telling myself, one step at a time. It honestly reminded me of a lot of laboring my babies. Good thing I had 5 to help me practice!

We got to a point where we were able to see the top of the summit, but looks are deceiving on Mt Whitney. It seemed like we were so close, yet, were still so far. We started seeing hikers who had just summited and were making their way down. “Good job, keep going, you’re almost there!”, they would say as they passed us on. Secretly, I was envious of them but knew we were close. 

The winds and the terrain were vicious, but we could see the end in sight. At this point of the hike, Mt Whitney felt like a barren, rocky, granite-filled wasteland. The best way I could describe it was like the land of Mordor from Lord of the Rings. I felt like I was on a quest climbing Mount Doom to drop the one ring into the volcanic fire. 

But enough of that. 

We were almost to the top, and soon, we could finally see the Mt. Whitney Hut come into view. 

We had made it to the summit around 2pm, and I could hardly process what we had just done. 

Sadly, our views were somewhat limited by the smoke from the fires in the Sierra Nevada, but nonetheless, what we could see was absolutely breathtaking and surreal. It was a mix of ethereal and eerie to me. Being so high, the silence was deafening, the solitude overwhelming. It was a lot to take in, partly which was difficult because of the physical ailments we were facing due to the altitude. 

There were a few people spaced out around the top of the summit, and thankfully, someone was able to snap our picture. 

Somehow we were still smiling, elated and tired from the journey. 

Smiling because we made it to the top of Mt Whitney!

We both stayed clear from the edges, though some people were brave enough to step right to the edge. The hut at the top has a book, where we both signed our names. I remember I could barely write because of fatigue. It felt so good to sit down and take off our packs, but we didn’t dwindle long up there. We knew the longer we stopped, the harder it was going to be to get our bodies started again. We also knew that the only way to improve the symptoms we were having due to the altitude would be to descend and come down as quickly and safely as possible. 

Descending the Mt Whitney Hike

So we made our way back down the 11 miles to the trailhead. 

Going back down was certainly easier, but it had its challenges as well. I could feel fatigue setting in my body, but the nausea got better as we got to lower altitude. Even so, it was difficult for me to eat. I was able to stomach candy, fruit leathers, bars, and gels, which helped fuel my body and keep me going.

There were a couple times where I doubted I would make it back down. 

My legs were starting to feel like jello, and my pounding headache persisted. Even so, my body kind of went into auto-pilot and kept putting one foot in front of the other. We took short breaks as needed to recoup but tried to keep a steady pace down. The sun was sinking fast behind the Sierra Nevadas, and we began to understand why setting out early was important. We didn’t want to get stuck on the trail at nighttime and didn’t have headlamps, so we kept moving forward. 

Reaching the bottom was similar to getting to the top: it seemed so close, yet we were still so far away. It was nearly nightfall when we got to the lower part of the trail, and I stepped with a bit of urgency to make it down to our car. 

Thankfully, we made it back down to the trailhead at about 7:30pm, making the total trek time about 13 hours altogether. 

We were blessed with incredibly great weather, good health, and the best company. It felt like an eternity had passed from the time we had left our car to the time we made it back at the end of the day, but we DID IT!

Reflecting on My Body Image Healing Journey

There are certain experiences that have brought me full circle, that have helped me have a deeper appreciation and respect for my body and all it’s been capable of doing. Birthing each of my babies were definitely such experiences. Climbing to the top of Mt Whitney was also one of those experiences. At the cost of sounding totally cheesy, it was like finally coming back home to myself.

It took me about a week to fully recover, but I’m so grateful for the opportunity we had to experience hiking Mt Whitney together. It was a bucket list dream come true and only made possible by my recovery and healing journey years prior. 

Overall, it felt like a celebration of what my body was capable of doing and all it had healed through from my eating disorder past. I remember having similar feelings after having my babies. When I thought my body would never be able to have babies or do any form of challenging exercise again, it had proved me wrong and showed me just how resilient it truly is. 

It was also a celebration of being able to renegotiate my relationship with food and exercise,  and to train for something without the expense of hurting my body in the process, as I had done in years prior. It was healing for me to reflect on how I had progressed from a space of hating my body and doing everything in my power to shrink it, to learning to respect and appreciate my body, to truly become proud of it. 

I remember thinking on the trail, “I’m so proud of my body for being able to do this right now, after everything I’ve put it through.” 

Even now, it brings me to tears just writing it out. I’m grateful for how God brought me out of something so dark and healed my body through a tumultuous and traumatic relationship with food and exercise. 

The best gift was being able to share this with my kids afterward. I don’t think they could really understand the magnitude of what we did, even though we tried explaining it to them. But I made sure to tell them how proud I was of my body and what it was able to do. I told them, “Mommy is so proud of my strong legs for carrying me all the way to the top and bringing me back home to you!” 

Growing up, I don’t remember hearing the people around me share how proud they felt about their bodies, so I hope to be intentional about doing that for my children as they grow up. I want them to be proud of their bodies too, exactly how God created them, knowing their lives are a gift, no matter what they choose to do with them. 

There’s Hope for Your Healing and Recovery, Too

I share all this because I want you to know too that your body and your life are gifts. 

You may not have your sights set on summiting Mt Whitney, but maybe you hope to improve your relationship with food, exercise, and your body.  You don’t need to climb the highest peaks to feel proud in your body or to make peace with it. You can learn to raise children who respect and appreciate their bodies, even if you don’t love your own body. It’s a journey that takes courage and one that can be accomplished by keeping one foot in front of the other, step by step, day by day. 

In many ways, our journey to the top of Mt. Whitney was symbolic of healing my relationship with food and my body. Some days felt impossible, excruciating and painful. But it was a commitment to taking the next right step, day after day, and trusting the path and the process. 

I appreciate your time in reading this and sharing this journey with me. 

If you are a mother and needing guidance or support in healing your relationship with food and your body, please feel free to connect with me today. I’d love to hear your story and point you in the right direction of resources that may be helpful. I also lead a free monthly virtual support group for mothers recovering from eating disorders and/or who need more support around food and body image issues. We’d love for you to join, and you can find out more about that here: Lift the Shame Support Group. 

Please feel free to leave any questions or comments below! 

“What are some of the most important experiences you’ve had in your body that changed your relationship with it?”