Climbing the Manitou Incline
On a cool September morning this year, I stood at the base of the Manitou Incline in Manitou, Colorado, staring up at the 2,768 railroad ties stacked like a ladder to the sky. It’s only a mile long, but it climbs more than 2,000 feet straight up the mountain. Locals call it a rite of passage. Tourists call it brutal. And I called it exactly what I needed—another chance to prove to myself that aging does not mean decline.
The trail doesn’t ease you in. From the first steps, your legs begin to burn, your lungs protest, and your mind begins its own negotiation: Do I really want to do this? It’s a conversation that continues for the next hour and fifty minutes—because the Incline doesn’t care how old you are, what shape you’re in, or how many excuses you’ve carried with you. It just keeps going up.
That day, I was probably the oldest person on the incline. And honestly, I wore that as a badge of honor. Every bead of sweat, every pause to catch my breath, was a reminder of why I train, why I move, why I refuse to let the myth of decline dictate my future. Too many people my age settle for comfort, then call it inevitable when their bodies start saying “no.” But the truth is simpler: if you don’t keep climbing, you lose the ability to climb.
Halfway up, the Sunday crowd begins thinning out. You see people bail out, or sit for long stretches. I thought about all the mornings working out, the miles on the bike, the commitment to strength and mobility. This is why they matter, not for the numbers, not for vanity, but for this exact moment when my body could say yes to something hard.
And then the summit. The steps end, the view opens wide, and Colorado Springs spreads out like a painting below you. The Rockies stand tall around you, silent witnesses to your climb. Everyone cheers and applauds at the top. For me, the point was the satisfaction that I completed the climb, proof to me that age is not an anchor, it’s a story you get to write.
Climbing the Incline wasn’t just another adventure for September 2025—it was a declaration. Fitness is not optional if you want to live fully. Movement is the insurance policy against decline. Strength is freedom. And aging, if you choose it, is not about slowing down—it’s about showing up.
So when I think back on that climb, I don’t just see steep steps carved into the mountain. I see a metaphor for life itself. Every step a choice, every pause a chance to reset, every breath a reminder that the only way forward is up.
Because the truth is, we don’t stop taking on challenges because we grow old. We grow old because we stop challenging ourselves.
