Climbing Calm

When I was a lil' scamp, my age just out of the single digits and my skin tan from the sunlight I so frequently bathed in, I once visited the Squaw Valley ski resort in Lake Tahoe. This was on a summer vacation with my family, so there was no snow to speak of, but they did have one attraction that was promising; the rock wall. I had never climbed before, but my favorite comic book character was Spider-Man, so you can bet your lucky pennies that I was excited to give it a go. When they strapped me in a harness and sent me up the wall, I was quick, never stalling as I scaled it to the top. They lowered me down to the ground and I was already rearing to go again. That day, I went up and down the wall 3 times before I was told by my aunt that we had to leave. That night, as I closed my eyes and tried to fall asleep, my mind was excitedly racing as I kept replaying the day's events in my head. I wouldn't go climbing again for many, many years.

Up until last year, there were a number of reasons why I didn't like to work out. I can't stand repetitions. I don't want to look like the nerd who has vain aspirations of being covered in muscles. I don't even like muscles. I'm not comfortable being so out of shape surrounded by Adonises. I look awkward. Somewhere along the line, something changed. I have always been a later bloomer, but 26 years is a little long to wait to finally get interested in fitness. When I landed my job, I finally resolved to join a gym, especially with the cold weather approaching. The first gym I looked at, a couple blocks away from my apartment, was fairly boring, packed with people and expensive. The second gym I looked at, just as far from my front door, was much more my speed. While both gyms had weights, treadmills, a lap pool and classes, this one had basketball courts and a rock climbing wall. Sold.

I started climbing again on the first day of my membership. Given the amount of time since I had last climbed, it is safe to say that I remembered nothing. The instructor working there showed me how to put on a harness and tie myself into the ropes. With a few tips for the climb ahead of me, she sent me up the wall. I'd like to say that I was graceful and quick, but after watching so many other newbies climb since then, I can't say that I was any better; a wobbly, unstable mess. I managed to reach the top, but I was so exhausted coming down that I hit the ground on my ass because I couldn't support myself. What a difference a decade and a half makes. I managed to climb the wall twice more that day, knowing two things: I was having fun and I knew I could get better.

In the coming weeks, some clarity would come to me about climbing technique. It is all in your legs; if you use your arms to lift yourself, you'll get burned out. Strength is important, but there is always a way to pull off a move without it. Now, a rock wall looks like this (sorry for crappy cell phone picture):

The surface is rough with various features that provide a variety of different types of climbs (face, chimney, overhang) and a number of holds that provide you with something to grasp on to and stand on. While the placement of the holds may seem quite random and often dense, you will only use them all if you're an absolute beginner. As you get more and more skilled, you will follow specific routes that consist of same-color holds ("all orange holds") or holds marked with specific tape patterns ("all black and pink tape"). The routes have funky names and each has a specific rating from 5.6 to 5.12 and up. Just to give some perspective, 5.10 is what the bulk of the experienced climbers do. Serious sportsmen go higher. Wikipedia says 5.15b is the hardest rated climb in the world, but that is outside.

Climbing, to me, is more than just a workout. It is a challenge in both discipline and problem solving. There is also an element of overcoming fear that, while I trust the ropes to support me, always motivates me to stay focused and determined. Whenever I fail, I come back twice as eager to overcome a tough move. I work for weeks trying to piece together a smooth run on every new route that I attempt. I go to bed imagining each move of the latest route, anticipating the next time I can get back on the wall and smoothly complete a maneuver that has been giving me trouble. I'm currently a 5.9 climber and I love that no matter how good I get, there is always much more to learn. Additionally, every step I take to a higher difficulty seems to require more and more strength that I gain naturally through climbing.

Fitness-wise, I am more than pleased with my progress. I'm still skinny, but I am relatively muscular now and this has increased my self-esteem dramatically. Since I stay away from the weights, my expectations are modest, but if I ever seem to hit some resistance with what my strength will allow me to do on a climb, it is never more than a week before I am able to push through it.

This is my endorsement of climbing as both a mode of fitness and a hobby. There is something beautiful about perfect technique, which is just another goal to achieve on the face of a wall filled with hundreds of holds and hundreds of possibilities. Along the way, there are challenges, puzzles, obstacles and tests, and every one of them can be overcome. Every day I go, I realize the progress I make. On some days it may be just smoothing out the moves I make up the wall, on others I complete new routes and increase my difficulty. It adds up to satisfaction and ambition all at once. Even on the worst day when I seem to take a step back, I learn the techniques to work when I have no more strength left. It is the discipline that I've been looking for for most of my adult life and I am so happy to have found it again.