Falling off the Walls

If you follow my Facebook or Instagram stories, you may have noticed my new hobby of rock climbing. I have another post detailing my fitness journey, but I wanted to take this one to discuss the less visible parts of the sport: the falls, the blisters, and the mistakes.

I started rock climbing in August of 2023, but only began to seriously train for it over the past year. Rock climbing came to me out of sheer convenience-- my dad often joked that it was "not on my yearly bingo card". And it's true. The climbing gym was the closest gym to my apartment, and they did have an area in the back with a Stairmaster and stationary bike if I never built up the courage to climb.

But I did. 

It took me so long to move past my fear, and even longer to build up the strength and fitness needed to actually scale up the wall. The sheer amount of upper body strength I have developed shocks even me. I went from a woman who needed to catch her breath after walking a block or two, to a teacher who can easily carry two toddlers across the play yard. 

About a year ago, I started posting videos of my climbing successes to my Instagram and Facebook stories. I would receive kind words and impressed reactions, and it felt good. I liked being able to share a piece of my life with my social media community, especially a piece I had worked so dang hard to accomplish.

I don't post nearly as often anymore, even though I am still very consistently climbing at the gym and getting in workouts every couple of days. Which leads me to the title of this post-- the ways I still come up short. The many times, every session, when I'm falling off the walls. 

Something I read in some kind of climbing motivational post ran along the lines of, "It's sometimes more impressive to watch someone fall than to watch them ascend." 

Failing, again and again, takes a level of resilience and determination I did not have a few years ago. I used to joke that my sign that I am done with workout session is "when I want to start crying." Now, it's when I am sweating, when my arms are feeling pumped, when I can tell my body has had enough. The emotional response-- the anger and the frustration-- is becoming more tolerable.

Over the past few climbing sessions, I have intentionally sought out climbs that are above my skill level, to mixed success. I spent years climbing V0s and occasional V1s, and a couple of weeks ago I sent (completed) my first V2. I even flashed (completed in my first attempt) a V2, a feat I was so utterly shocked by I had to text a climbing friend to ask if it had been graded wrong. She noted that it was a legit V2 requiring a lot of finger strength, finishing by saying "dude that's so sick". 

I put a lot of scrapes, sweat, and tears into my climbing. I never dreamed I would be the type of person who would regularly go to the gym and work out, let alone the idea of climbing up rock walls. 

And now, I am intentionally and mindfully trying feats that are above my skill level. I am putting in time at the gym even after a full work day. And more than anything else, I am proud of what I have accomplished.

On days when the depression feels heavier, I push myself even harder to get off the couch and go to the gym. One of my DBT (Dialectical Behavioral Therapy) skills involves getting your body moving and doing intensive exercise, pushing back against thought spirals to get out of your head. My thought process is that, even if I finish at the gym and nothing changes mood-wise, at least I can feel sad and also feel accomplished for getting my body moving.

My therapist tells me my mood has been improving as she has seen my exercise regimen improve. Sometimes it's difficult to spot the little ways I have improved, despite knowing objectively that I have. I keep writing even though AI looms, threatening to rob me of the creative individuality I have spent decades cultivating. I go to the gym and I try new climbs, feeling accomplished even if I spend half an hour on the wall barely reaching two or three moves. I do the things that bring me healing, regardless of what the world brings. Regardless of skill level, and strength, and failure, I still do the thing.

I hope I can inspire resilience through failure, because lord knows I fail. I still have many challenging days where I am falling off the wall, both physically and metaphorically. I am healed and I am still hurting, often simultaneously. I have built habits and I am learning new coping skills. I can advocate and set boundaries. I climb walls and I also rest. I am the compilation of a million little changes that have built the woman I am today.

Sometimes, it's not about how many times you fall, how intensely you may crash onto the mat and how difficult it may feel to try again. Sometimes, it's just about the strength to reach back up. To try, once again. To fall. To fail. To learn. To grow. 

Often, that's more than enough.