Discovery: I'm like a Tapeworm!

There’s this odd delusion out there that there is something we are meant to do with our lives, and when we find it, peppy, romantic-comedy-like music will begin to play as a the camera pans around our smiling face.  Bliss abounds, as we have just found that “thing” that we can devote our lives to, living happily ever after. 

Now, I don’t deny that there may be something that we are meant to do, but I’ve come to believe the romantic-comedy-like music and camera panning are not necessarily part of the picture.  For some of us, what we are made to do is more like the life-purpose of a tape worm… cling to the walls of the digestive tract of a cat while everything about the cat is trying to get rid of us. 

I knew right away when I first stepped onto the side of a cliff that I was not meant to be there.  Yet for some reason, something in my nature latched onto that place in sort of a joyously sadistic manner.  This first encounter with the vertical world was a rappel of about 30 feet.  My gloved hands gripped the rope with singular devotion to keep me alive.  I nearly froze with terror, but found in myself the courage to get down only so I wouldn’t have to be there anymore.  Of course, once at the bottom, through a combination of peer pressure and fascination with the idea of the vertical world, I quickly returned to the top of the cliff for another rappel. 

A couple weeks after my first rappel, I tried rock climbing.  We set a top rope on a really easy face in the Stillwater Canyon of the Beartooth Mountains.  I tied-in to the rope with a rewoven figure-8 knot I’d repeatedly practiced in the safety of my living room, and prepared to launch.  I started up the cliff confidently scuffing my ginormous Cabela’s hiking boots around trying to find foot holds. 

My second day rappelling.  Also the same day I climbed the first time, but on a much easier cliff.  The age of large boots, high-rise jeans, and leather gloves.

I soon would discover that there is a place about 8 feet up a cliff in which my subconscious gets wise that I’m doing something naughty.  Seven feet up, everything’s cool, I’m world-class.  Eight feet up, I feel a giant boulder get lodged in my throat, and every muscle in my body tenses.

Through the process of sitting on the rope a couple times, and cheating a bit, I finally made it to the top of the cliff.  It wasn’t pretty, but I got there.  My mind was electric with excitement and pride over my accomplishment.  Of course, a couple weeks later, my best friend’s mom and little sister climbed the same cliff with considerably more ease than I.  I silently coped. 

Despite the fact that I stunk at climbing, and that I was terrified of it, I kept coming back.  Repeatedly, I crossed from 7 to 8 feet up.  Repeatedly, I became paralyzed. 

Undeterred, and full of grandiose expectations of my future as a climber, I stuck at it.  Over the next three years, I finally got loosened-up enough where I was decent above 8 feet.  I started climbing in the gym at MSU in my first years of college, and before long I had become familiar with the movement of climbing, which bolstered my confidence, but there always remained a level of tension in my head that seemed to not be present amongst most “real” climbers. 

Early lead climbing (Note the lack of rope from above, I'm placing gear as I go to stop a fall).  I still have that look on my face a lot while leading.  Yep, didn't finish the climb that day, I turned around at that very move.  I'm proud to say I have since finished it though!

Over the last eleven years since I rappelled my first cliff, I’ve gone from barely being able to top-rope a route graded 5.3 to having lead-climbed thin 5.10 cracks on gear and a short, well-bolted 5.12 sport climb… a grade of climb which remains well-respected amongst even the best climbers.  I’ve gone from using my pencil-arms to squeeze off 5 pullups to using my bulging pencil arms to bust out 25.  At times, I feel weightless and confident on climbs… even hard ones, but frequently I feel terrified and look really stupid up there, even on some easy routes. 

I’ve gone through cycles where I’ve nearly had to give up on climbing… partly because I can’t handle the constant anxiety and the ever present chance I’ll look dumb on an easy climb, and partly because I feel like my once tiny arms and my always weak head are signs that it is something I’m not “meant” to do. 

Folks, I’m here to tell you now that not doing something because you feel you weren’t “meant” for it is about the stupidest conclusion that you can make.  Rock climbing has become part of my heart and soul.  It’s taught me to grow a backbone and learn to work with my fears… even if I look dumb sometimes.  It’s made my upper body several times stronger than it once was.  It is teaching me to be honest about my struggles, and to not pretend I’m better or more courageous than I am.  It sometimes frustrates the heck out of me, and makes me want to quit.

But it is important that I continue the struggle for all the other people who are destined to live the life of a tape worm, just like I.

Even if you feel that you lack the natural “giftings” of others in the activities that draw you, keep at them, and I will do the same.  The spirit of the struggle itself matters more than the results, and I personally will be inspired by your achievements!  

Having just lead my first 5.12 graded climb in Tensleep.  That route really played to my strengths, so I'm a long way from being able to do this on a regular basis.  But I'm going to keep at it!