It’s been three years since Marshawn Lynch ignited Century Link Stadium. Remember, sports fans? Seahawks v. Saints. Wild-card play-off. Home team advantage. Less than four minutes left. Lynch breaks eight tackles and runs for 67 yards. Game-clinching touchdown. During the raucous celebration, Seattle’s “12th Man” triggers seismic activity. But this is a mythic, not a scientific, moment. As someone who witnessed it from the relative safety of my condo down the street, I felt Lynch shaking the earth with each and every move. And, thus, beast-quake was coined. But can it be repeated?

The Pacific Northwest Seismic Network installed two seismometers for the Seahawks-Saints rematch. There were some moments during last Sunday’s game, though nothing matched Lynch’s earlier drama. But the play-offs aren’t over yet.

I’ve never registered on the Richter scale, but I know a little about attempting the impossible, about shifting into beast mode.

It was my last climb: Black Butte outside Sisters, Oregon, where I’d marry Leslie in a few years. My sister and her husband were visiting from Boston, and we all headed to Central Oregon for a wedding. We lived in Portland at the time and were eager to explore the lava flows and high desert of that part of the state. Black Butte seemed like the perfect day trip. The cone rises 3,076 feet. The fire tower at the summit was our goal: two miles up for stunning views. I struggled every step of the way, dragged myself, cursing. I had knee problems and some balance issues, but I had yet to be diagnosed with my neurological condition. So I didn’t know why my legs felt like lead. The pain and difficulty was of a completely different order, baffling and defeating. I can’t remember the views, just the concerned looks of my companions.

The next day, I couldn’t lift my legs. In retrospect, I was probably in shock. But I played it off. I didn’t raise the alarm or ask for help. I suggested a pool day, so we sat in the sun, and I tried not to think. I have since pronounced that my final summit, but given what I now know of adaptive sports and disability rights, I can’t say that for sure. And who wants to think of the finality of lasts?

In my own myth, I attribute that climb to beast mode. I kicked it into gear. That’s how I’m imagining it now. Medically impossible in my yet-unknown condition, so I can’t explain that feat any other way. It’s not something I planned or prepared. It happened spontaneously. Against considerable odds, I made it to the summit, back down again, and lived to tell the tale.

I’m no Marshawn Lynch, but I can relate to what a body can do with a strong will, a worthy challenge, and something important on the line. My next ascent will be assisted, but you can bet I’ll be moving into beast mode, baby.