To summit Mount Olympus less than a year after surgery would be a feat for any heart transplant patient.

But Paul Cardall says this is not his big day.

Nine months ago, looking at the behemoth rock face from a hospital window he could barely walk to, Cardall decided to make the epic hike for someone else. Brian Cardall had died a few months earlier, when police stunned him with a Taser during a bipolar episode.

On Wednesday, the anniversary of Brian's death, Paul steps onto the trail. His first major hike in 25 years is in memory of his little brother.

Paul came to the trail a few weeks earlier for a test run. He reached the half-mile mark.

"It was awful," he says. "I was so discouraged."

A few yards into Wednesday's hike, Paul's commemorative "Celebrate Life" hike T-shirt begins to soak. He checks his backpack for water leaks, but there are none. His wife, Lynnette, touches his back.

"It's sweat," she says.

"Sweat," the professional pianist repeats. "A new thing for me."

Exertion has been off-limits for Paul since he was 12, when an infection in his defective heart left him even weaker than he already was. He never could keep up with his seven brothers and sisters, he says -- especially Brian, an accomplished outdoorsman who announced one summer that he was moving to Alaska to climb Denali.

Meanwhile, Paul's complications worsened. He spent the year before his transplant "basically sitting in a chair," Lynnette says.

The Cardalls had a meeting to plan who would take care of Lynnette and 4-year-old Eden if Paul did not get a transplant. The family was prepared for the possibility that they soon would lose a son, Paul says.

But no one thought it could be Brian.

Duane Cardall remembers the call he received a year ago, alerting him that his son was in trouble. Brian's wife Anna told Duane that she called police when Brian had become agitated in Hurricane. An officer arrived to find Brian naked and blocking traffic. After 42 seconds, the officer fired a Taser at Brian.

"They were trying to resuscitate him," Duane recalls. "[Anna] was describing to me what was going on. Then they wouldn't let her talk on the phone anymore."

Brian died that day. An autopsy concluded that the Taser was the cause. The Cardalls have since sued the Hurricane Police Department, claiming officers refused to help Brian, barred Anna from helping her husband and then detained her for no reason.

Paul was too sick to process his grief.

"At Brian's funeral, I stood in line, greeting people with my oxygen," he says. "Then I just collapsed onto his coffin and bawled."

Three months later, when Paul received a new heart from a 19-year-old man who committed suicide, he began to mourn again.

"I didn't think you'd grieve your donor," he says. "I have grieved mine like I grieved my brother. It's almost equal.

"I bet they're really good friends," he says, looking toward the summit.

Being the one who gets to live -- while two others died -- was an abrupt shift for Paul after years of expecting his own early death.

"We weren't prepared for the survivor's guilt," Lynnette says. "Paul really had a hard time with that."

The hike is Paul's way of making the most of his new life. His cardiologist, Anji Yetman, says 6.5 miles with a 4,000-foot elevation gain is all but unheard of for recent transplant patients.

"But that's how Paul's been through everything," she said. "We told him to expect two months in the hospital; he was ready to go in two weeks."

Paul takes nothing for granted. He marvels at the towering evergreens ("I've never walked up to a pine tree before"), is horrified by every piece of litter and he cheers the strenuous Olympus ascent: "I love these little switchbacks. This is cool."

Near the summit, about 20 friends and relatives in matching shirts surround Paul for pictures. He puts on headphones and listens to songs Brian recorded with his guitar. Paul doesn't take another step toward the highest rock until 1:10 p.m. -- the minute that Brian died.

After a prayer, hugs and some tears, the group heads back down the mountain. Paul lingers near a mailbox that holds the summit log, where visitors sign their names.

Paul has signed for two.

"Brian Layton Cardall: Dec. 7, 1976 - June 9, 2009.

Paul Layton Cardall: April 24, 1973 - Still living."