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Talking About Mental Training

• June 2008
• Training Uncategorized

Hello Steph,
I was hoping that you’d be able to answer a few questions about your mental training techniques and exercises.

I find you to be a very inspirational human being, not because of your achievements (though obviously impressive) but because of your attitude and honesty. This comes through really strongly in your writing and, to me at least, it is a sign that you are not afraid to face yourself and know yourself, something that many people don’t have the strength for. Mostly, though I’m inspired because I can really relate to the drive to do things that seem difficult and that don’t come easily. You said something like this a couple of years ago in an interview and that is what led me to read your book. I’ve often been ‘accused’ of being driven; I find it hard to find the balance between wanting something and wanting something too much.

In almost everything I do – including climbing, [although I’m presently injured 🙁 ] I seem to have a hard time finding the balance between achiveable and unachieveable goals. I find that wanting too much can lead to failure. Is this your experience? I guess I’d like to hear your perspectives on how you approach goal setting and pushing your limits (if you even feel that there are limits).

I’m also interested in the kind of thoughts you might have on the wall when soloing. A couple of posts back, when describing your free-base-climb of Castleton, you wrote that “I got a little excited when I did a step through move onto white calcite at the top of the first pitch, and stepped right on my pant leg, which I had forgotten to roll up. My foot skated off the fabric, but luckily I was in a good hand jam with my right hand buried inside the big undercling flake. Yikes! The unwelcome adrenaline burst was a little draining, and I had to sit on the ledge by the first belay anchor for a long time to rest.” What did you think sitting up there on the belay ledge? Do you practice or train with mental ‘exercises’ or thought processes for getting through little dramas that might occur on the wall? Alternatively, do you find that thinking about such eventualities in advance disturbs your peace of mind and makes it more likely that you will fall?

I hope you’ll enjoy these questions (rather than it being a pain in the ass to write a long response to a fangirl on the other side of the globe 😉
!

Thanks for sharing your days with us!
nicola

nicola patron@mac.com
www.champagnescience.com

Dear Nicola,
These ideas are the things that motivate me to climb, and to do everything I do. Thanks for this interesting conversation! I find that my thoughts are always changing and evolving, as I explore risk and effort.

Definitely, wanting is something I have struggled with through life. Like you, I have found that wanting and trying too much often lead to frustration and a feeling of spiritual regression. At the same time, extraordinary dreams do require extraordinary effort. After a lot of painful trial and error, I’ve discovered that strong desire with a truly unattached mind feels right to me. When I really want to do something, I figure out what it will take for me to do it, and then go about the process of that pursuit. If I have created a process that is fulfilling, I am able to feel truly unattached about the final outcome, because I am finding fulfillment already as I work towards the hoped-for goal. Whether I “achieve” the end result or not, I am learning and enjoying as I go about the progression towards it. Once I figured this out (rather than wanting a goal and working like mad just to achieve it like I used to do, which made the goal itself too important and fraught), big projects became very positive for me. And oddly enough, the ability to detach from the outcome often makes the final goal slide into place inevitably.

The main reason I free solo is to explore different mental states. I think a lot about mental control, mental freedom, and relaxation. Detachment seems to be everything. I do believe in confronting death consequence risk activities with open eyes. I don’t approach a hard free solo thinking that I’m invincible and nothing can go wrong. I think hard about the risk and the real possibility of death before I ever step onto the trail. Funny enough, this level of focus and contemplation seems to make me feel safer…..I don’t always go about more mundane activities with this mindset, and little accidents often occur in so-called “safe” situations because the focus is not so high. But what I find important is to meditate on risk in advance of a climb. If I can come to terms with any possibility, realistically and honestly, before I enter the physical situation, I don’t have to spend any mental energy on those thoughts during the climb.

It’s important, once I enter the climbing situation, to be free of fear and thoughts of failure. When I start up a free solo, I know beyond the shadow of a doubt that I am capable of climbing it safely. So I have absolute confidence that I belong there, and I don’t question it at all. For me, this is the most important thing. I believe that what I think will happen, will happen….so if I’m thinking about falling, I will likely fall. If I’m thinking about relaxation and easy movement, that’s what I will get.

To answer your question, when I slipped on my own pant leg (!) on Castleton, I instinctively held on with my arms with about twice the amount of energy I like to use when free soloing, in order to not fall. This was not ideal, because I am always trying to use as little strength and energy as possible, climbing as relaxed as possible and standing on my feet, when free soloing. That is part of my strategy. So when I reached the next ledge, I felt pretty drained physically. I was already in a free solo mindstate of upward momentum and a sort of emptiness. So I felt pretty analytical and blank, and just sat there waiting until I felt like I regained the energy I had lost by holding on so hard. I didn’t really think about anything, except for the way my body felt, waiting for breathing to slow and muscles to feel recovered enough to continue climbing. Later I thought about the moment, and realized I had made a serious mistake by not rolling up my pants, which seems like such a silly, trivial thing, and felt I had gotten kind of lucky by not falling. Choosing to be in high risk situations requires attention to every tiny detail, and I had made a mistake by not considering such a small detail, though I got away with it in this case. I try to think of everything, and I always find that the smallest oversight leads to trouble. I find this interesting in BASE jumping as well–the smallest oversight or gear problem can lead to a major accident. Every tiny thing has to be predicted and planned for….as one of my BASE jumper friends says, you have to take the time to figure out where the danger is hiding. To me, things like this are extremely interesting…..

I know a little time has gone by since you wrote, and I hope your injury has healed and you are back on the rock. Best of luck to you with all your adventures!
xxx Steph