Though I’m not really afraid of anything, intimidation can get the best of me from time to time. The Grouse Grind, a firm fixture on my Vancouver bucket list, was one of those things that required a little more encouragement than say, lavender lattes and mini waffles at Café Medina. Just before the hiking season ended (and with some motivation from friends to boot), I braced myself for one of Vancouver’s famous hikes, also known as “Mother Nature’s Stairmaster.”

mapping my hike

I wanted to document my hike so that I could compare my first time with each time after that (side note: about halfway up I was sure that this would be my first and last time). Having this record would not only serve as proof that I did in fact climb the Grind but it would also allow me to track my progress and help me set goals to challenge myself in the future. After looking into a few options, I settled on iMapMyHike since I was already familiar and quite satisfied with other apps from MapMyFitness.

the grouse grind

To put things into perspective for those of you who are unfamiliar with the Grind, imagine 2,830 steps, gaining 2,800ft in elevation, which works out to cover a total distance of 2.9km. On average it takes about an hour and a half to complete, two hours for novice hikers and 23 minutes and 48 seconds if you’re Sebastian Salas, the official record holder.

take it to the top

At the base of the trail my friend Ashley and I each started the app to record our journey (I wanted to test the accuracy of the app to see if our results would differ). Setting it up was fairly easy and with a push of a button we were on our way. It didn’t take long to realize that “Mother Nature’s Stairmaster” is no exaggeration. The first quarter was fun and exciting - the halfway point couldn’t come soon enough. Seeing the three-quarter mark was a dream and really kicked my energy level into high gear. Standing at the top was unbelievable and somehow made me forget how much I disliked getting there.

how the app faired

I have mixed opinions about the app. It was successful in recording the hike as far as time, distance, calories and elevation go (although, I was so excited when I got to the top I forgot to stop the app, so I have to shave about 10 minutes off my ‘official’ time). I loved that I could immediately share my stats on my social channels (climbing the Grind entitles you to some bragging rights, after all) or through email (I chose to share my stats with my coworker, Michael). What I didn’t like was that the app seemed a little glitch-y when it came to saving the workout, in fact, Ashley’s hike got deleted. The app also drained my battery, which, could be dangerous if you’re climbing alone and also means less juice for pictures when you do make it to the top.

Would I climb the grind again? I can’t believe I’m going to say this but yes. As for the app, I didn’t love it enough to use it for my hike up the Chief the following day, although I would have liked having those stats recorded. Any suggestions for other hiking apps that are more dependable and won’t kill my battery?

And you thought the notorious Vancouver Grouse Grind was hell. Try Seek The Peak 2009. Char, along with guest co-host Jenny Harnett, venture to the top of Grouse Mountain where they get in on the relay action while swatting off a fly or two. Ch-Ch-Cheeckk it below!

Char In My Suitcase Ep.04 from lululemon athletica on Vimeo.

Clara Hughes is an amazing Canadian cyclist and speedskater who has won multiple Olympic medals in addition to many other athletic achievements. She also happens to be an amazing person, and her list of personal accomplishments and commitment to programs such as Right to Play (an international humanitarian organization that uses sport to improve health, develop life skills, and foster peace for children and communities in some of the most disadvantaged areas of the world) is just as long as her list of athletic titles. We are very proud to call her a lululemon elite ambassador.

In preparation for the upcoming World Cup Speed Skating season, Clara completed a 19-day hike in the mountains of California for altitude training where she and her husband hiked to heights of 14,200 feet and camped in windy conditions with the temperature hitting -17 degrees celcius at times. Why would someone put themselves through something like this, you ask? Read on to find out, in Clara's own words:

A friend of mine recently suggested I take up golf. It was after an email I had sent, letting him know I had to come out of the mountains in order to pick up an ice axe, crampons and snow shoes. Why all this gear? My husband Peter and I were attempting to complete a desert mountain traverse that few, if any, have completed. When I think back to day number two of the 19-day hike, as Peter and I huddled beside a fallen tree in futile attempt to get out of the raging wind and -17c temperature to eat our dinner, I think that maybe that friend is right. We crouched down on a nameless ridge up at 10,800 feet wondering just where was the warmth we had traveled so far from Quebec to enjoy. There were many days on this trip that left me questioning my rational for such endeavors.

The place I'm talking about is a little known, little hiked, mountain range in California. First with the Inyo and then the White Mountains, it's a desert range that runs about 200 kilometers as the crow flies. It begins at an abandoned mining camp called Cerro Gordo on a rough dirt road that branches off the highway to Death Valley. The elevation along our route along the range never dropped below 7,000 feet and reached peaks up to 14,200 feet. Because it's the desert there was no water water to be found, save for a few springs. But we didn't see any of those. Our sole source of drinking water was snow, melted over an open fire or the cook stove. Though purified or boiled, it was still at times dirty, smokey and hard to swallow. It's amazing what you drink when you're thirsty.

This 'trip' was my idea of altitude training. No team, no guide, no group- just me and Peter out there to fend for ourselves against the elements. It's a situation I crave compared to my normal existence as an athlete. It's organic and it's real. There's something about being self-contained and the challenge this situation entails that thrills me. When I think back to two years ago when the National Team funded the purchase and installment of an altitude room at my training location in Calgary, Alberta, it makes me laugh. I lasted approximately two hours in that set-up. I woke up, gasping for air, from a nightmare that had Darth Vader (the ultimate Star Wars villain) haunting my room. The sound of the generators made me crazy. I have made many sacrifices for sport, but some are just too much for me. Thus, this idea to live and train high that our team physiologist suggested that I decided to take to my own extreme.

While packing for the trip we prepared for mild to cool weather. In fact, we could see the range from our friend's home in the town of Bishop as we planned and packed. It took two days and we spent much of the time looking up at the massive range spread before us, wondering how much snow waited for us up there, or if we'd run out of snow pack to melt.

With eight days of food we set off for the first leg of the traverse, and I now know what it's like to weigh 220 pounds. Those first few steps with the burden of gear and supplies on my back made me feel like a pack mule. It was up to us to make sure the carefully measured and planned contents of the backpack would get us to a food cache we stashed about 100 kilometers ahead in the pinyon forest on a 4 wheel drive road a few miles below the mountain crest. We would be taking a layover day at the cache so I packed a few treats in – beer, chips, salsa, cookies – along with a 5 gallon container of water.

The first day was hard and it remained hard for the rest of the trip. There were no trails but at times we could follow along an abandoned mining road. The rest of the hike was navigating with topographic maps while trying to find the best route through the mountainous terrain choked with sage bushes and little-leaf mahogany trees, enormous boulder fields that formed ridges up peaks and at times, some very sketchy snow fields on the steep northeastern slopes off the highest peaks.

My husband and I don't really care to sleep in tents. Instead, we prefer sleeping out under the stars, bringing along a lightweight tarp for shelter in case it happens to snow. For some some reason, this trip we brought a small tent made for one person but big enough for two, 'just in case'. The weather is always unpredictable in the Spring and it happened that instead of sleeping out, which we did on only two nights, we found ourselves taking shelter from the raging winds that made camping out in temperatures averaging from -3 to -17 a little more than I bargained for. We'd finish a grueling day of walking, navigating, climbing and/or tearing through unforgiving desert brush and set up that tent, working as a team so that the paper thin shelter did not blow away with the relentless winds.

From 6pm on everyday, we'd cram into the space that offered minimal protection but at least conserved some of the warmth our tired bodies gave off. Into the cocoons of our sleeping bags we'd go, Peter beginning the 3-hour process of melting the snow we'd hack away from hardened packs with our ice-axes, first for tea, then dinner and ultimately enough for two quarts of water each to get us through the next day. It was excruciating to squeeze into that tent every night, not being able to stretch and barely able to shift positions because of the space allowed and the amount of clothing we wore in our sleeping bags. Muscles ached and stiffened, and I thought many times of the amount of stretching I do before, during and after training. This was the antithesis of my life as an athlete and exactly where I wanted to be.

We slept little because all camps were above 9,000 feet, the highest at 13,400 feet. Such thin air makes sleep restless, and when combined with the roaring wind tearing away at the tent, it was as if we slept within a battle field in full tilt. That same wind raged day after day, with gusts blowing so hard we would sway back and forth in unison. We wore toques and neck gators, pulled high, while pulling the hoods of our wind jackets over our heads.

Native Americans used this entire area for hunting which was evident by the continual pieces of arrowheads found along the way. They ranged from tiny ones that, I assume, were used for birds, to points discovered above 13,000 as we walked mile after mile. Here, there were many signs of Bighorn Sheep, with droppings and resting spots found in the highest reaches of the White Mountains.

With so many challenging, beautiful moments during the journey, it's difficult to pick just one that stands out from the rest. But if I had to choose, it would be the penultimate day, a thirteen hour effort. We slept at 12,500ft the previous night, and our little tent bore the brunt of the strongest winds yet, threatening to snap its poles. With filthy hiking boots wrapped in plastic bag in the foot of my bag to keep them from freezing yet again, we rose at first light and brewed coffee, remaining in our down bags. The rising sun added some warmth inside the tent, but outside, in the wind, it was bitterly cold. We forced ourselves to get an early start.

All day we walked methodically, rarely getting to sit for more than the quickest of rests as we'd get too chilled otherwise, nibbling on trail mix and candies for fuel. We climbed even higher on the plateau to 13,000 then dropped two thousand feet at a placed called the 'jump off' to the point where we would begin climbing Mt. Montgomery, the most technical climb on the range. Its steep ridges were draped in snow. As I looked up from the saddle below, knowing we had long passed the point of no return, I gasped at the intimidating grandeur. The closer we looked, the route became evident. Without snow, it would have been a technical scramble, but this was late spring, so away went the hiking poles and out came the ice axes. It didn't look easy, but at least it looked like we would be able to climb along its ridge if we were careful and methodical. We'd step onto steep snow fields and work our way from one rocky outcrop to another. Just when I thought we'd reach the last rocky ridge and the summit, there'd be another one to get around. Back onto another snow field and steep drop-off below to another outcrop. On and on it went.

Now, let me be clear and say that this wasn't necessarily supposed to be an adventure hike so much as merely a solid base of high altitude exercise forming the foundation for the upcoming skating season. So when I found myself on those terrifyingly steep slopes, mirroring Peter's kicks into the snow and placements of the ice axe, I have to admit I questioned the situation. Thoughts like 'what the hell am I doing up here with the Olympics in nine months!' turned into 'who cares about the Olympics I just want to get off this ridge alive!' and I learned, as I have many times before, what is really important.

I also realized just how much my years as an athlete have given me. Outside of the experiences, the victories, the moments I will never forget, they have given me a resilience that I believe stronger than ever can and will get me through any situation I find myself in in life. I learned how to use that ice axe and use it well, up on those ridges, because I am an athlete. I kept the intense focus hour after hour, feeling I could go on for days if I had to, because I am an athlete. I kept calm and rational even in those moments of intense fear, because I am an athlete. I followed and mimicked someone more skilled than me efficiently and confidently, because I am an athlete.

I can't imagine a better place or experience to prepare me for the stress, the unknown and the thrills of the journey ahead. Because I survived the 250 kilometer traverse and survived it well, I can't wait to see what the next nine months throw at me. Watch out, Tiger Woods!

- Clara Hughes

My sisters and I share the same parents but we have our own bodies. I may be able to get into the splits and hold a gnarly headstand, but when it comes to endurance activities, all three of my sisters can pass me in a heartbeat. My friend Jessica commented while I was feeling left behind in the dust during a family hike that "the girls are just built differently."

Our bodies shape the type athletes that we become. Athletes come in all shapes and sizes too. Look at gymnast Shawn Johnson and basketball player Yao Ming.

Think of your body as a unique gift that is designed to perform like none other. How would you start loving your body if you stopped comparing it to others? What image you would have of yourself if mirrors did not exist and we based our image off of how we felt inside? After a sweaty hike or a killer dance class my body reaches a potential so high I could flash the sky at the top of a mountain...

Love your body and the possibilities it has for reaching your highest physical potential.

Getting down and dirty in yoga class is admirable – getting off your mat and practicing outdoors is extraordinary. Taking yoga outdoors stimulates the senses and heightens physical awareness. I have found hiking yoga to be one of the most invigorating and spiritual activities.

Without breath, you are not doing yoga. So why not breathe deeply while hiking and explore the possibilities of connecting to the earth. Groups across the country are offering hiking yoga classes/guides that are specific to the geographic area. Eric Kipp in San Francisco leads urban Hiking Yoga groups that focus on breath and engaging the core. Eric takes you inside the romantic hidden spots of the city while stopping after every huge hill to do a relaxing warrior or triangle pose.

The beauty of nature, like being next to a campfire, immediately inspires you to emerge from your safe zone. Hiking with a group promotes rich social interaction and human connection. I have found the shared experience to be rewarding and quite awakening to my bodies capabilities.

Above: Vanessa, escapes the city and heads to Tofino (Vancouver Island) for an oceanside hike and yoga experience. She's keeping warm in our Remix lulu hoodie.