how an alpinist changed my life.

It’s funny to realize how much life changes in a year. I always reminisce about that during this last week of the calendar year, and I would wager that is pretty normal. I am not the same gal who came into 2021. I am somehow tougher, and more broken, and more healed. I don’t know if that makes sense to you, but I know it does to me.

My body and mind went through a lot this year. I have lost and walked away from friendships that I thought would be with me for decades. I made mistakes, and hurt others, and was hurt by others, and did my best to forgive them and myself, and ask for forgiveness where I failed. I am sure I have fallen short in more ways than I realize, but I have succeeded in others.

I was chatting with my mom today on the way to work about a documentary I watched over the weekend. The documentary is called The Alpinist (Netflix), and covers the story of a young man named Marc André Leclerc who climbed some of the largest and most difficult rock faces in the world. I am not much into the idea of rock climbing - I have no doubt that the views are incredible, and certainly my arms would finally achieve that toned look that I’ve always wanted. The thing is, I really don’t like heights. Roller coasters stress me out (see also: give me panic attacks), and the idea of climbing a mountain while relying strictly on my ability to grab the tiniest ledges with my fingers and toes is pretty abhorrent to me. I’ve never had anyone make it beautiful to me before Marc André. The footage showed how awkward and out of place he felt in “normal” life. When he started climbing, a change came over him - his entire face would relax, and his body easily found climbing holds that would have not presented themselves to mere mortals. In comparison to the footage of other climbers, it was like watching an experienced ballerina perform a routine next to a toddler in a tutu.

As the documentary progressed, I became more and more attached to Marc André, if for no other reason than the sheer joy through which he lived his life. When he went to Patagonia for a particularly dangerous solo climb, he quietly said that it was obvious to him that every time he embarked on a new climb, it could be his last day on earth. He focused on telling those he loved just how much he loved them, holding nothing back. He ate good food, cherishing his “last meals.” He recorded videos for his girlfriend, telling her how much he adored her and wished she was experiencing the climb with him. He held nothing back from the climb, and nothing back from life.

I started to get a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach as what I thought would be the final scene began to play. And then the story continued… Marc André had chosen to do a team climb in Alaska. Everything had gone smoothly reaching the summit, and Marc and his climbing partner were even able to record videos and take pictures to send to their respective girlfriends and families. Then inclement weather rolled in during their descent. When Marc André’s girlfriend realized that the pair had missed their designated check in time, she began to panic and called in the rangers to alert them of the missing climbers. She and some of Marc’s friends and family immediately flew to Alaska in hopes of immediately launching a search party. Yet the weather was so intense that the helicopter needed to search the mountain was grounded for four days. Four days. Four days full of hope, sheer panic, and no answers. Knowing the odds. Knowing the hopes of finding them alive dwindled significantly not only by the day, but by the minute. And so they waited, until finally the helicopter was able to scan the route where the team was planning to make their descent. All they found was a single nylon rope dangling out of avalanche debris. Marc André and his climbing partner were never found. Their bodies were lost to the mountain, hidden in the snow.

Marc André was 25 years old. He and I were born nine days apart in October 1992.

Marc André’s mother, at his memorial, commended her son for living his life to the fullest. Chasing the highest peaks, but always making sure those on the ground knew they were so loved. So cherished. He was utterly devoted to his long time girlfriend, a dedicated son and friend. He held nothing back from this life. He chose to not live afraid of dying, but to look fear directly in the eyes and to chase the beauty and the opportunity that was still present. He wrung every bit of life out of his 25 years.

I could tell you that I didn’t cry watching this brief glimpse into Marc André’s life, but I did. I wept for a young man who was beloved by so many, and was lost to the mountains he loved to chase. I wept for a mother without her son, and a loving partner who lost her adventurer. I wept for myself, and the shred of kinship that I felt for Marc - my peer, only born days and hours apart from me. Maybe it seems silly to you to cry for people you’ve never met. My mom told me that my heart was too fragile to endure watching stories like this. Frankly, she’s right - it is. I have thought about Marc André for days. That’s how it feels, because I connect into these stories, into these lives, wishing and hoping for safer outcomes. For a long time, I felt so ashamed of that. Ashamed of allowing myself to connect and feel for someone like Marc André, because he didn’t know me, and we probably wouldn’t have been friends. We didn’t have much in common. I always cared too much. But the more that I’ve grown, and the more that I keep thinking about Marc André, I don’t wonder if we would be friends - because I think he cared too much, too. He drained the marrow from this life because he cared so much.

As we bring 2021 to a close, what will you do differently this coming year? I don’t care about resolutions or weight loss goals. What will be permanently different about your life? What would you choose to do if you weren’t afraid? Will you stare life in the face, not flinching, even while your knees shake? Maybe your bravery is measured in the height of the mountains you choose to climb. Or maybe bravery looks more like choosing to love those around you unabashedly, cherishing your meals like they were your last, making your partners and families know unequivocally where you stand? Will you be brave enough to squeeze every drop from this life, even when it seems like time may be short and the world may be dark?

Choose bravery. Chase the mountaintops. Chase every bit of good and glory this life has to offer. Make every year count. We aren’t promised another one.

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Dedicated to Marc André Leclerc, who lived life to the fullest capacity. Your story and brash courage has marked me forever.

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Nicole Worm is the founder of Redeemed Collective, a recovering perfectionist and is committed to eventually seeing the Atlanta Falcons win a Super Bowl. Also, committed to being dog mom to Bear.