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Climbing Goals and Frustration

• April 2016
• Hi Steph Climb

Hi Steph,
Hope this email finds you well!

I may be ranting/going in circles here but would really love your advice–one lady climber to another.

This past weekend I spent a few days in Bishop with a bunch of friends (mainly male friends). I was super excited to work on some projects and feel strong, free, and in touch with nature/myself. I’d like to preface by saying I think it’s awesome that I’m climbing with guys (especially ones who have been climbing for YEARS), they push me to be my strongest and try my hardest.

While there, I began to set personal goals for myself, which eventually transformed into an unhealthy pressure and competitiveness (against myself but also in comparison to the men I was climbing with). I’d like to consider myself a strong climber, but have frequently let my weaknesses– physical lack of inherent strength but also lack of height– cloud my brain. My main reason for climbing is creating a mind/body connection, helping me de-priorities fears and irrelevant thoughts that I usually have in life. It’s my chance to connect with the rock and rely on nothing but myself to succeed. And therefore, when I don’t succeed it is triggers insecurities of inadequacy and weakness. There was one problem we were all working on (an awesome overhung crimpy reachy climb) that involved lots of stretching and big moves. Some of the guys had a certain beta for it. I naturally tried their way and discovered shortly after that it was not the way for me. I tried my own way but got stuck at the first big move (when the crux is in the early stages of the climb, it’s the most discouraging). But it’s such a rad climb! As all my guy friends eventually sent it, I felt frustrated that I couldn’t move past the reach and for being the “weakest link” (perhaps that wasn’t the reality but it’s easy to get stuck in a negative cycle). I became so frustrated that I took my shoes off and walked away from it, slightly crying (embarrassing…i don’t like to admit that).

Climbing makes me feel more alive than any other activity in my life. I really need to work on not letting my head, other climbers (guys especially), or my failures discourage me. I want to harness it as motivation. I felt so dedicated-my hands were bleeding from every finger, skin was peeling off my ankles from persistent heal/toe hooks, my forearms bruised– and am dedicated to improving and trying my hardest so sometimes it’s nice to see results in the form of a send.

Not really sure what advice i’m asking you for, rather just for you to talk about your experience with this (if you’ve had something similar and any words of wisdom). There’s obviously always ways to get physically stronger and I hope to do so soon. I’m curious about your thoughts about grounding yourself and removing these negative tendencies — how do you do it? How do you not compare or become critical of yourself? Or if you do, how do you not let that get in the way of your performance?

Thanks so much!
Hope to talk soon.
Warmly,
J

Hi J,
Climbing can be the most frustrating thing ever, but every project that takes more than one day can be the most frustrating thing ever.

There are so many different things at play with feeling like you’re not improving, getting frustrated by goals and feeling frustrated by what others are doing. It’s impossible to not feel these things at times, and it can be hard not to be affected by them. One thing I notice about sports in general is that quantification is always part of them, and it’s one reason I’ve always loved trail running and also skate skiing. I don’t measure distance, time or speed when I run or ski. I don’t run with other people, just my dog, who is light years beyond me and any other human in terms of athletic ability and is just psyched. Running isn’t dangerous, and I don’t have to be on top performance to stay safe or to have a good time. I just get to be in the desert or in the mountains, feeling light and free with Cajun’s happy smile bouncing around me. There needs to be a time in life when we’re not measuring ourselves against something, when we’re just experiencing and feeling healthy and happy. This is such an important part of climbing, it’s the part that made us all fall in love with climbing, and more and more it seems to be getting lost under the layer of comparison and pushing.

We need to remember that climbing grades were something that were added to climbing after there was climbing, and stop allowing our entire climbing experience (and our feelings about ourselves and climbing) to be ruled by them.

We also need to remember that climbing grades are not only subjective but often incredibly dependent on people’s body shape and size. A very short person will often not be able to reach the starting holds on a boulder problem, of which there may be only 3 moves. Obviously the problem will be significantly easier for a taller person than a short person, in this case. A person with very big fingers will not be able to squeeze them into an exceptionally thin seam, while a person with unusually tiny fingers will be getting finger locks, and will find it easy instead of impossible. I’ve had offwidths go from ridiculously hard to simple when I put on hiking shoes instead of climbing shoes because my feet were too small to get heel-toe cams in climbing shoes.

These simple facts seem very obvious to me, based on 25 years of climbing all styles of climbing around the world, but climbing grades seem to evoke controversy and endless debate. I think it’s contentious because climbing grades have changed from something intended to provide information to others into a way of ranking who is better than someone else–climbing grades have become inextricably linked to human ego. After a quarter century of climbing, I can safely say I don’t understand climbing grades at all, and it’s partly (but only partly) because I’m not the same size as the average climber. The only place I’ve ever climbed where the grades seemed consistent, clear and understandable (including climbing gyms, where the listed grades never make any sense to me at all) is Rifle, Colorado–and not coincidentally, it’s one of the only places I’ve climbed where height or body shape and size seem to generally not matter very much because there’s almost always a different and highly cryptic sequence to be unlocked.

For you as a person who is not average size, there are going to be a lot of times (mainly on boulder problems or on vertical face climbs) when moves that are not even really moves for tall people are unstoppable cruxes for you unless you happen to climb 5.14 consistently and can apply your ability to the 5.12 route with the reach crux. And yes, it can be super irritating. It’s true that having a massive amount of strength and power can be a solution to reach moves. So more strength training can help. Climbing by yourself can also help to remove the external factor from your experience–if you have a couple big crashpads, you can spend as long as you want on a boulder problem.

A few things to think about:

1. You don’t have to do every climb you try. Sometimes you don’t like a climb, sometimes it’s highly unsuited to your body type. If you’re not into it, on to the next one!

2. It’s nice to climb with people who are not wrapped up in ego and who have no problem simply acknowledging the moments when there’s some kind of size issue attached to a route or a problem. At Indian Creek, I’ll tell my male partners if the climb I just did is easier for small hands. And I’ll also tell my female friends when a crack is harder for those of us with small fingers, which happens quite a bit at the harder grades in the desert. I’ve seen a few guidebooks for other areas where the description of a route mentions that the crux is harder for short people, which is good to know, especially if it’s a multi-pitch route. It’s just factual and obvious, but it’s frustrating when you have a size disadvantage on a route and your partners act like you just suck or start telling you stories of how this one small person (who coincidentally climbs 5.14 consistently) once did it and so obviously someone short can do it. In this case, you need to find new friends to climb with. It doesn’t mean people should make excuses for you or tell you to give up–but the simple act of acknowledging a moment when something is harder for a person of a different size is a way to be generous, rather than petty, and makes it possible for them to let go of the frustration of that moment.

3. Don’t expect climbing grades to have any relevance at all, ever.

4. Remember that the majority of routes aren’t size dependent, so for the most part you can just do your thing. When you are trying one that is size dependent and not to your advantage, if you like it and it’s fun for you, forget about everybody else and just have fun with it at your own speed.

5. Above all, don’t make climbing into some kind of measure of your worth as a person. I see people do this every time I go climbing, on the negative or the positive side, and it’s one thing I wish I could make go away forever. Having a great day climbing doesn’t mean you’re a better person and having a bad day doesn’t mean you’re a lesser person. Doing a climb that someone attached a certain number to does not mean you’re a good person. It really doesn’t mean much of anything, despite what society tells us. Watch a lizard climb some time and you’ll see just how ridiculous our fixation on what humans can climb really is. What means something is being in nature and being a part of nature, learning how to exist in the natural world and how to adapt yourself to it.
Steph