Rock climbing is a magical activity. I've never seen an activity that so quickly ensnares its athletes. People try it once and either think "eh" and never do it again, or it becomes their life immediately. It began as a countercultural movement, with people who defied the normal 9-to-5 stability and went searching for adventure. Nowadays, it is significantly more mainstream. Everybody knows somebody who climbs, or has seen Free Solo. There remain tenets of counterculturalism though, just not quite as obvious. A true pursuit of growth in rock climbing teaches lessons that I had never encountered before. This ode explores my growth in climbing and its impact on my daily life.
A Standard Childhood
I grew up in a pretty standard middle-class home. Had a pretty standard middle-class childhood. Played a lot of sports. A lot. At some point in my life I have: swam, ran, ran triathlons, wrestled, played baseball, soccer, basketball, even fenced for a little bit. I was pretty good at all of them. Not great. But generally an asset. I understood the goal and my own strengths and weaknesses. I knew how to contribute to winning even if I wasn't the star player.
The Search for the Win
Climbing is the first activity I tried that I truly did not understand. I loved winning. I was a competitor. Everything else I had ever played, the goal was to win. I searched for years to find the competition in rock climbing. It led me down a path that eventually cliffed out. Nowhere to go.
I competed against my friends. But competing against others did not provide the satisfaction I was looking for. Being stronger or better than somebody at climbing does not feel like much of a victory. It is not a win to be climbing harder than somebody that has been climbing years less than you have. Competing against friends at or above my level never worked out because of the innate differences in styles and strengths. For every climb I excelled on, there were many others my friends got the better of me on.
Eventually I decided I was a slab climber. Since my friends did not like it, it was easy to be the "best," at least in this style. Avoiding overhangs stunted my growth as a climber for years.
When I finally realized that by the very nature of climbing there was no way to "beat" other people, I tried to beat the rock. If I was just a little stronger, tried a little harder, I could force the rock to let me up. Needless to say, I lost. There is no beating the rock. Finally, I tried to beat myself. I was not comfortable falling. I was not comfortable failing. I tried to convince myself I did not care. Who cares if I sent this climb or not. It's just rock climbing. My first four years of climbing grew more and more miserable. I couldn't win. And all I knew was you either win or you lose. For four years I was a loser in my own mind.
A Different Metric
There is an entirely different metric for success in climbing, one that could have made me a far more satisfied climber had I not been stuck in the black and white of winning and losing. That metric is the pursuit of mastery. Climbing is too big to master fully, so everyone's definition is different. It's impossible to compare yourself to somebody because you don't know where they are on their journey. Heck, you don't even know if they are headed toward the same goal as you are.
For sure, there are milestones to be celebrated on the path to mastery, but for every challenge you "win," there is another right around the corner. Mastery is a slow process. For me, it is probably unattainable. But it's a powerful way to view the world. Instead of thinking, "when is my next opportunity to win?" I began to force myself to ask "when is my next opportunity to grow?" Every "loss" is a lesson learned on the road to mastery. Instead of being embarrassed to fall on an easy route or making excuses for punting, you can pay full attention to why you fell off. It becomes something to work on. It's freeing, is what it is.
Rivers follow the paths that the rocks give them.
We are told that after years and years, the water will eventually wear down the rock. I like to think of it as the water and rock working together to create the most efficient path of flow. Years of marching toward mastery will increase your ability to take what the rock gives you and work in concert with it.
Letting Go of Winning
I do miss winning sometimes. That was such a big part of my identity for so long. But I'm learning to fully appreciate my milestones instead of immediately moving on to the next challenge. I'm a happier climber. A better partner. I'm more genuinely excited for others' success, instead of secretly being a little jealous. I'm on my path to mastery and they are on theirs. It's not a competition. It's just fun.