For each person, rock climbing has it’s own personal meaning. When I went rock climbing for the first time, it was never my intention to become so involved. It was actually just supposed to be a fun date night activity with my boyfriend, but we had so much fun doing it, we found ourselves going again and again. At first it was just a fun workout, something more enjoyable than an hour on a treadmill. After awhile I started to find myself in the gym more times a week and for longer periods of time. I was getting strong, learning techniques, and making friends.
Somewhere in between all the falls, blisters, and top-outs, rock climbing became more than just a work out. It became a motivation, a reason to try harder, get stronger, and to be better. Through climbing I learned my boundaries, but climbing also taught me that with effort, I could break those boundaries. Climbing both inside and outside the gym I learned that fear of hurting myself, and fear of failure where my biggest obstacles.
When I went climbing for the first time outdoors, I had no idea what I was getting myself into. When we got to the climbing spot, I was eager to get going. We had to take turns using the crash pads, so I waited and watched as other people climbed. The group I went along with had very strong climbers. They made climbing look so easy as they seamlessly glided across the rock. If they got tired or stuck, they skillfully let the feet down, and landed standing on the crash pads.
After an hour or so, it was my turn. I quickly learned that outdoor climbing was a whole different animal from indoor climbing. The volcanic rock was hard on my hands, there was no tape to guide my way, and there was no bouncy rubber to cushion my fall. Getting started was hard. I felt awkward on the rock, it felt almost as if it was my first time ever climbing. With each move that took me higher, my enthusiasm gave way to anxiety. I was a couple moves in through the route when I reached for the next rock. All of a sudden I found myself off the rock, and falling. There were thick crash pads underneath me, and someone one was there to spot my fall, but fear and adrenaline rushed through me. I hit the crash pads with a less the graceful thud, and just laid there stunned. Eventually I got up from the crash pads, made sure everyone knew I was fine, and told them that I was taking a break.
I sat, and watched everyone attempt their routes again. Here and there were people climbing then falling. After some time it was my turn again. My spotters helped me set up the crash pads, and waited patiently for me to get started. As I approached the start, a knot began to form in my stomach. I put my hands on the rock, but before I could start I turned around, and told my group that I was scared, and wasn’t sure if I was ready to go again. To my relief, they didn’t laugh. Instead, they were all very supportive. The words I found most encouraging came for a climber who said, “There’s no reason to be scared. You already fell. You know what it feels like, and you obviously now know that you won’t get hurt.”
After taking a moment to calm the butterflies in my stomach, I got on the rock and started to climb. Timidly, and cautiously I began to scale the rock. I came to the place I fell last time, and again reached for the rock. I was suddenly hit with the now familiar feeling of falling, and landing on the crash pad. I missed the hold again. But this time around, I got up from the crash pad, and tried the climb again. Trial after trial, I fell. Unfortunately during this session I did not get to the end of the route. But in climbing, and in life in general, it isn’t always about getting to the end, it’s about learning as you go, and getting better while doing so. All the effort, pain, and hours spent in and outside of the gym was nothing compared to the innumerable lessons climbing has taught me so far.