BECAUSE WE CAN

Brock Dethier

When asked why he was attempting to be the first to climb Mt. Everest, George Mallory said, “Because it’s there.” He died on Everest in 1924.

It’s not because it’s there

that we climb the highest mountain.

It’s because we can.

Adventurers know

that our abilities can change instantly

and will inevitably change slowly,

so the climbing route, the powder line,

the 20-knot windsurfing blow that you can just barely handle today

will be beyond you tomorrow.

I did 4000-foot-vertical hikes

because I could.

I ran every other day for thirty years, hating every step,

because I could.

I tried every drug that came my way, often more than once

because I could.

I skate skied up Green Canyon nonstop because I could,

just barely.

I swam underwater to the Green Room behind the travertine falls

because I’d lost my mind.

I can’t do any of those things now.

Nor can I drive a golf ball out of sight,

hit a forehand passing shot,

or backpack nine miles into the Wind Rivers.

Somehow when I wasn’t looking,

my body’s motto went from

“Whatever you need, whenever,”

to “Nope, can’t.”

What can my body still do

that’s worth doing and I might well lose tomorrow?

C’mere Babe.

“Because We Can” is a new poem. I grew up with Mallory’s “Because it’s there” in my head, wondering what it meant and why I too embarked on pointless, dangerous adventures. The insight is of limited benefit to me now that I’m 73, and it might not make sense to someone who’s young enough to feel that there will always be another tomorrow. But understanding WHY we should seize the day was a breakthrough for me.