We’re climbing up a piece of rock. We’re excited about that piece of rock, discussing its features in great detail with the person(s) next to us, mimicking the moves in a sort of dance. We talk climbing grades in a language only we can understand and struggle to hold onto holds only we can see, only to come down shortly after. Sometimes, we get to the top; a lot of the time the anchors are smack in the middle of the wall and good luck explaining that. We get stuck on one single move for a whole hour, getting sweaty, angry, frustrated, ecstatic. We don’t even get to the anchors and yet we’re happy about our performance. We analyze, touch, feel, brush, and blow a boulder, sit down at the bottom, and can’t even get our ass off the crash pad.
To the untrained eye, climbing doesn’t make a lot of sense. To us, climbing is everything.
Of course, we’re all bound by our love for this activity, but we alone are the ones who give it meaning. It’s all very individualistic; what we go through on a given climb can differ from what the other person is experiencing.
To me, that’s perhaps one of climbing’s greatest beauties, that it can be just another pastime or a mirror into ourselves, a tool for self-introspection, a form of self-expression. It can work as therapy and heal, it can frustrate us and turn us into grumpy, hard-to please bastards. It can have reverberations in our personal lives. It can make us or break us.
Let’s talk numbers
Photo by Wild Adventure Film
We crave some sort of measure, constantly comparing ourselves with others, hoping to get a better idea about who we are. All throughout our lives, we stress over numbers, and yet it’s hard to imagine living without them. So, behold the climbing grades!
Unmistakably, climbing can be easier or harder, and grades give us a vague picture about what to expect. It’s all clear so far.
Buuuut…it’s all so relative, and yet we give so much meaning to it all. What grade do you climb, what grade do you onsight, what color do you climb at the gym… Really now, are we reduced to numbers?
I can’t even remember how many times I’ve sent a 6b on my second try and then flashed a 7b. I sent a 7c+ on my second go and didn’t even make it to the anchor on a 6c the very next day. So tell me, what is my grade? It’s all very dependent on the style, the conditions, my physical state, and most of all, my mental state. Not all 7c’s feel the same – some are hard as nails while others go down fast. Some 7a’s are a tough nut to crack. And then there are those dreaded 6b’s and 6c’s I hop on for a warm-up, never knowing if I’ll send or not.
For a long time, I let some numbers define me. I climbed an 8a, I’m so strong! I said “take” three times on a 7a, I suck, I’m a fraud! Up and down I went, again and again. It’s not a healthy mental state, and it’s all my doing because I let those numbers get to me.
Sure, we feel we need those numbers for our sense of self-worth, to measure our progress, to get us hyped about training and trying hard. But it’s a fine line, one that I’ve crossed many times while still telling myself I hadn’t. When is the point where we care more about the grade than the climb itself?
Yeah, in all this game of numbers I often lose sight of the bigger picture, which is that…
All climbing is hard
A 6b for a beginner can feel just as hard as a 7c for an experienced climber. And then there are all the ups and downs that us mere mortals go through – progress is not linear, not to mention that maintaining a somewhat steady level is hard work. I still struggle on the lower grades; not even a 6b is a given. If I’m not 100% there, getting my ass kicked is almost a certainty.
It’s all very subjective. What feels easy for me may feel hard for the other person and vice-versa. After all, grades are an invention of ours and we tend to get sucked into the opinions of a handful of people who give grades based on their own personal experience, how well-trained they are, how they felt that day, their body type, strengths and weaknesses, and, let’s face it, ego plays a big role too. So why do we get so worked up about it? After all, we’re here to climb a route, not a grade. Right?
Ever since I can remember, I’ve picked my climbs based on their looks. However, I was also drawn and motivated by the grade. For me, the perfect combination was when a route was aesthetic (to me) and hard (for me), yet doable (aka my style). Every now and then, I come across such a gem. But let’s face it, such a combo is difficult to find and I was missing out on some amazing climbs that are all hard and beautiful in their own unique way.
Read more >> Just Climb: Expect Nothing and Let Yourself Flow
Progress is personal
Photo by Vali Aldea
It’s taken me a long time to realize that progress is not necessarily about grades; it can take many forms. For example, there’s progress in sending a route that is my anti-style, doing reachy moves I thought impossible, trusting my feet on non-existent holds, committing to a risky move above the bolt, getting pumped as fuck and pushing on.
Did I enjoy the moves? Did it feel hard? Did I climb in the flow? Did I put on a good fight? I wish I’d realized sooner that all these are far greater reasons for celebration than a number.
There are important gains we often overlook in our struggle to prove ourselves as strong climbers. But then again, what makes a strong climber?
For many years, I’d prefer to project routes. I’d spend time on them, analyze the moves, work the beta, practice, and then (hopefully) send. Except when warming up, I would deliberately avoid the “easier” routes because, in the back of my mind, I knew that I could get my ass handed over to me on a silver platter. There was a good chance I would struggle. There was a good chance I would fail. I dreaded that thought.
I’d watch in awe as other climbers climbed anything and everything, no matter the grade, with grace and, most of all, seeming to enjoy every second of it. I wanted to be like them but fear was holding me back. Fear of pushing past the uncomfortable, that irrational fear or falling, and, the biggest of them all, fear of failure.
It was all a matter of shifting my perception. Instead of chasing grades I may or may not tick, I found a different challenge, one that gets even more psyched – to simply climb as much as possible, find solutions fast, get in the flow as often as I can, and put on a good fight even when I don’t have all the details figured out.
Looking back at my journey as an average, everyday climber who’s never taken a break from climbing and has always aspired for more, I can safely say that I have progressed; not in terms of grades but in the way I climb and my overall approach. That progress is mine and mine alone.
Of course, the road is long and never-ending. I still have many demons to kill, grades still haunt me like a ghost, I’ve got battles to fight, and so much to learn about myself through climbing.
Success is personal
There’s a whole discussion about whether or not climbing is a sport and I’m not gonna get into that. Most climbers are not competition climbers; most climbers just climb, period. There’s no score, no podium, no prizes. But we do tend to compare ourselves with others and even more so with the past versions of ourselves. Perhaps with our future selves, too, those idealistic and often unrealistic images we create in our little heads.
Sure, there are some notable climbers who’ve broken boundaries and have done some truly remarkable things. We hear about them, we are amazed, perhaps secretly wish we could be like them. But for all us mere mortals, who are far greater in numbers, how do we measure success?
Who’s got more to win? The angry, frustrated climber who finally sent their project or the climber who is having fun, not really caring when or if they send?
Does a high grade climbed after years of hard work weigh more than dozens or even hundreds of medium-grade routes climbed in no more than two or three tries? Does climbing a harder route all shaky, at the limit, about to fall on every move, count more than climbing something lower in grade but in a flowy, seemingly effortless manner? Does peaking fast and having just a couple of glorious years of crushing count more than consistency and slow but steady progress?
They all count to the people that find success in them. It’s all a matter or perspective – are we satisfied with what we’ve done?
I am each time I face my fears and push past the uncomfortable, because that’s one less demon poking me in the back. I am every time I climb completely immersed in movement, not caring about anything else. I am whenever I climb with joy.
To me, success is when I’ve made myself proud.
Climbing is whatever I make it
Photo by Vali Aldea
I’m writing all this while on a longer climbing trip in Leonidio, Greece. More than two months into it and I’ve already been through all sorts of mental states – excitement, motivation, burnout, stressing about grades, feeling like I want to run away from people, enjoying climbing in every form, getting scared, being brave, resetting, and changing my perspective. It’s been one hell of a rollercoaster ride, but that’s what climbing trips are all about. Things come out, and I either face them or I stay stuck in the same pattern.
Climbing is my mirror and I don’t always like what I see. It knows me better than I know myself, and I trust it more than I trust my own judgment because there’s no tricking it. The hardest thing is staring into that mirror with my eyes wide open.
I am flawed, and I do still find myself running after a grade like a headless chicken. It often ends up with me despising myself. So enough with the numbers for me. I still have my projects, I still aspire to something bigger, I train for that, I don’t lose sight of that. Everything I climb in between is in preparation for those projects I may have or may not yet have, it shapes me as a climber and as a human being. Plus, climbing makes me feel good. It’s that simple.
