Daily Life | What Climbing Taught Me
I've decided to use this title that sounds like a primary-school essay! Let me record the process and my feelings.
The first time was in March (or April) 2017, introduced by my work partner L.
If you see bouldering as a sport, it isn't a fixed, repetitive motion (like running), it's full of variety, and you can do it alone (no partner needed), which suited me perfectly. Suddenly, I, someone who never exercised, had a hobby of "exercising".
In July I started a beginner technique class, climbing 2–3 times a week.
In October I got hurt for other reasons and took a break, and my bouldering schedule turned into visits to the clinic, and the strength I'd built faded away like past clouds through laziness.
In December I learned to belay for top-roping, and after getting my belay certificate in January 2018, I was so busy that I climbed about once a month until June. (Luckily, compared with a driving licence, a belay card is less likely to turn into waste paper.)
The cycle of climbing for a while, resting for a while, and falling back to square one made the "useless" label stick painfully to my heart, and I couldn't hide from it, because I'd stuck it on myself. Every cycle I'd break down once, and L would say patiently, "That's just how climbing is."
Yes. So is life.
Asking and answering myself: "What do you have to complain about?" "Nothing, (can't let go) it's all my problem."
August 2018, breaking in climbing shoes, pain and happiness together.
In July 2018, I started climbing again. This time, I'd be careful not to get injured, and careful to keep climbing at least once a week.
Huge ups and downs in life and in my mood didn't affect keeping to this frequency (...nor did injuries to my knees, ankles and wrists), up to now in 2019.
Actually, climbing is a relatively fair thing. In front of a route, as long as you reach the end (complete it), no method is off limits. This also reflects that everyone's physical condition is different, so different methods naturally aren't right or wrong, and nobody criticises your body, because for different routes, being tall is sometimes an advantage and sometimes a disadvantage.
Climbing taught me to face myself honestly: my physical condition is what it is, my ability at this stage is what it is, my fears are what they are. Someone else being able to do it doesn't mean I can. If I don't assess honestly, all I end up with is an injury.
And about fear, I'm also learning not to run away and to look straight at its existence: afraid of falling, afraid of heights, afraid of getting hurt, afraid of pain... Or sometimes I run away, but I identify what the fear actually is and what my weakness is, find ways to overcome it, and bravely challenge it once the next time I come across it. (And don't compare fears with others; they can't be compared.)
Climbing reminds me not to keep counting which parts of my personality I need to change (your personality is like your body: there's no good or bad, right or wrong, it's two sides of the same coin), not to keep blaming myself for my mistakes and imperfections (nobody's perfect), and not to live by other people's standards, trying my best to reach them just because they say "it suits you / you can do it / it has to be you". I should talk to myself honestly: "Do you really like it? Do you want it?" After figuring that out, I should assess it properly with time, resources, health and so on, draw a line of feasibility, and avoid demanding things of myself with baseless high standards.
And failing isn't embarrassing, and nobody cares about your failures. You can try with peace of mind, and you don't need to be fully prepared before you act, as long as you make sure you won't suffer harm you can't bear. (As for injury, it always makes me think of "exchange": living is exchanging all the time, risking injury in return for a chance, an experience, to try.)
The process of climbing shows that most of my anxiety is actually me trapping myself: setting standards too high, always trying to meet others' expectations, not letting myself rest, and facing problems while injured, a vicious circle.