4000s By 40

A few years ago I embarked on a quest to complete all 48 of New Hampshire’s tallest mountains before turning the ripe old age of 40. If you’re from New Hampshire, you’ve heard of the 4000 footers. If you’re from New England, you’ve probably heard of the 4000 footers. And if you’re turning 40 and don’t want to go the cliché route of extramarital affairs or purchasing sports cars to compensate for your fading luster, you may want to consider strapping on some hiking boots and climbing them.

I had wanted to tackle the 4000 footers ever since I first heard of them in my twenties. When my wife and I were dating, we climbed Jefferson, Lafayette and Lincoln together, and I promised myself that one day I’d climb all 48 of these beautiful mountains. But then life happened. Life led us away from Boston and took us to San Francisco, then Chicago, and then to the back of my parents’ house in Massachusetts when my Mom was battling cancer. Eventually, by some miracle of miracles, my wife and I both landed jobs that required us to move to southern New Hampshire, but there was no time for climbing then. First came twins, followed by an Irish triplet, and then another daughter to even out the posse. Life became a torrent of diapers, soccer games, awkward parent socials and cocktails with strangers. Weekends became about friends and family, and making sure we could get enough sleep to survive the next week. And just like that, almost twenty years went by and I hadn’t set foot on another 4000-footer.  

Even though I was only 38, I could feel 40 shadowing me, like when you’re walking a lonely city street late at night, and you get the feeling someone is following you. I felt the need to hurry up and attend to some unfulfilled wishes before I was overtaken in a dark alleyway. I wanted to flee the sidelines of my kids’ soccer games, escape the mundane chatter about the latest Patriot’s victory and who was hosting the next BBQ, and run for the hills. I wanted to see mountains again, mountains Gandalf!

For the next year I stumbled my way over New Hampshire’s tallest mountains, and through my midlife crisis. Mine wasn’t a crisis of lost youth or concern for social relevance, but a need to occupy my mind space with a life experience distinctly unique from everyone I was standing on the sidelines with. I loved watching my kids play games, but I hated the sidelines, and didn’t want to live my life on them. In the mountains I was finally doing something that wasn’t encapsulated by the confines of regular life. I was doing something new, which in the end, is what every midlife crisis is about.

During my journey over the 4000 footers I made plenty of mistakes. Sometimes I showed up at the trailhead completely ill-prepared to tackle the weather conditions. Sometimes I failed to make summit and had to return to the same mountain again another day. I scared my wife on more than one occasion, when I lost cell service and couldn’t report my whereabouts. I climbed in the dark, overcoming an irrational fear of coywolves, and was once surprised by a covey of pheasant that scared the bejesus out of me. I got lost a bunch. I fell a lot. I hitchhiked thirty miles in order to avoid a “crazy man” who put a moose head on a spike in front of his property. I climbed in the snow, in the rain, and in the blazing hot sun, surrounded by ticks, mosquitos and blackflies. The weather didn’t dictate my schedule. When a day I could escape from work appeared on the calendar, I took advantage of it, and took whatever weather came along with it. And at night, after a long an arduous climb, I’d come home battered and bruised, and my soul so utterly happy.

Each mountain summit rejuvenated my perspective on the wonderful blessing of the “regular life” waiting for me down below. Long before I even heard of the AMC’s 4000-footer list, I saw these mountains as a child and wanted to climb them. By finally fulfilling a childhood dream, I was giving myself the chance to restore my individuality, which refueled my energy supply, which in turn made me a better father and a better husband again. A better son and a better friend.

The reality of turning 40, or any age that scares us into considering unfulfilled wishes, can induce a number of reactions. For some, it makes them fall into alcoholism or the arms of another lover. Others may be inspired to travel or pick up a new hobby. It had me changing butt naked in parking lots to get out of my wet climbing gear. Whatever your reaction to middle age is, you have plenty of choices with what to do about it. Choose wisely.