When I first started this project, my goal was to visit a different church in the Greater Chattanooga Area every Sunday and share those experiences here. And for the most part, I’ve stayed true to that. But in July, I hit the road and had planned to take a short break from writing. What I didn’t expect was how much those 10 days away would shift my perspective on community—largely thanks to an unexpected and intriguing group of people I encountered in Utah at 29029.
But, I guess the first step is giving you some context.
A little over a year ago, I was sitting with Holden on the couch as he was showing me some YouTube videos. That’s when I stumbled across my first 29029 video.
For those who don’t know, before Be The Change Youth Initiative uprooted our family from Maine and launched us into a year-long journey around the country, I was heavily involved in endurance events—triathlons, half-marathons, and even one full marathon. I didn’t just do them for the physical challenge; they were a way to raise money and awareness for causes I cared deeply about. But over the past eight years, my life has been fully wrapped up in Be The Change—heart, soul, and time. The races stopped, the training stopped, and honestly, I didn’t realize how much I missed them… until recently.
So, after I stumbled across 29029 I started watching their videos—a lot of their videos. Over the course of that following month, I found myself going down the rabbit hole. I laughed, I cried (a lot), and I couldn’t stop asking myself the same question over and over: Is this community they keep talking about real? Or is it just smart branding and emotional hype?
It’s real. (But it’s also smart branding.)
And before I go any further, I want to take a moment to address two things: the cost and the training.
The Cost:
The cost of participating in a 29029 event—is a lot. Honestly, it was way more than our family could afford, especially running a nonprofit and living on a pretty lean budget. When I first saw the price tag, I immediately thought, There’s no way. It felt out of reach. It also felt irresponsible given our family’s financial situation. But the more I learned about the event—and the more I felt that persistent nudge—I started asking a different question: What would it look like to invest in something that wasn’t just about finishing a physical challenge, but about stepping into a space of deep personal growth… where I could rediscover parts of myself I’d put on hold?
We talk so often in our work about creating spaces where people feel seen and supported. What if this was one of those spaces for me?
So, after talking it over with my family—and making sure they fully understood the time commitment and what I was signing up for—I officially registered for my first 29029 event.
But here’s the catch: it wasn’t the one I wanted.
One of the wild things about 29029 is just how fast these events sell out. I mean, who knew that hiking up a mountain and riding a gondola back down over and over again until you’ve climbed the equivalent of Mt. Everest would be such a hot ticket?
My first pick was Mont-Tremblant but that event sold out before it even opened to the general public. (Pro tip: alumni get early access, and they do not mess around.) I moved on to my second choice— Whistler —but that one vanished in a matter of seconds, too. At that point, the only remaining event that fit into my calendar was Park City and to be completely honest, I had zero interest in TRAIL.
That event starts at 6,000 feet above sea level.
I live pretty much at sea level.
I didn’t want to do one marathon at altitude, let alone three way above sea level. But it was my only shot… so I signed up anyway.
The Training:
The training itself was incredibly demanding. Between my work responsibilities and frequent travel, I quickly realized that sticking to the group’s prescribed schedule was simply unsustainable for me. To make it work, I decided to bring on a coach who could tailor a plan around my existing commitments.
And this is really where the gap between my expectations and reality began to show. One of my biggest motivations for joining this group was the sense of community—I was looking forward to connecting with others through a shared experience. But I soon found that not following the same training plan made it much harder to engage meaningfully. There’s a natural camaraderie that forms when people are going through the same process, at the same pace, and I found myself feeling a bit out of sync with the group because of my modified approach.
Honestly, I began to feel like I wasn’t doing enough, compared to everyone else… and I was in my head about it. Even though I was putting in a lot of effort and working with a coach to stay consistent, it still felt like I was falling short. I’d scroll through group messages or see updates from others sticking to the original plan, and I couldn’t help but compare. It was as if, because I had to adapt the training to fit my life, my commitment didn’t seem as valid—or at least, it didn’t feel that way to me. That creeping sense of inadequacy started to chip away at the initial excitement I had when I joined.
That was 100% on me. (You see, I was already learning a lot about myself before I even stepped foot in Utah!)
But I ended up reaching out to another participant who lived close to me. We weren’t on the same training plan, but we found common ground in proximity—and eventually, in intentionality. We started texting each other, checking in from time to time, sharing updates, encouragement, and small wins. I wanted to stay engaged and connected, even if it looked different than I originally imagined. So I made a concerted effort to create community in a way that fit the reality I was living in.
I share this because I think it’s important to the bigger conversation around community—especially within the Church. So often, we talk about community as something that just happens if you’re “in the right place” or following the same path, or routine, even proximity. But true community takes intentionality, vulnerability, and creativity. It’s not always built in structured gatherings or perfect alignment—it’s built in the check-ins, the shared spaces, the quiet efforts to show up for one another.
Something I saw plenty of in Utah and will share more about next week.
And sometimes, we have to give ourselves, and others permission, to build community outside the “official” structure. That doesn’t make it less meaningful—it might actually make it more Christlike. Because the heart of church community isn’t about uniformity, it’s about unity through grace, presence, and mutual care.
And 29029 does this so incredibly well.
(Part 2 will be all about my time in Utah and the incredible people I had the privilege to meet.)
Searching for Jesus in A̶m̶e̶r̶i̶c̶a̶ Chattanooga 