On Doing Scary Things
Much like I think it’s important to do hard things, I also think it’s important to make yourself do scary things from time to time.
I’m a rock climber. I’ve been climbing for half my life. I earn a notable portion of my income as a rock climbing guide, helping people to get outside and try out this sport, often for the first time. I still get scared almost every time I go climbing.
Especially when lead climbing (when you’re climbing from the ground up and pulling the rope up with you, clipping bits of protection every so often, but risking significant falls when you’ve climbed above that protection), I waging a mental battle that often more fierce than the physical one of pulling myself up on tiny edges of rock. That battle is one to stay calm, manage my breathing, reassure myself that I’m in control and not going to fall, and just generally keep it all together enough that I don’t make silly mistakes that would lead to me falling and potentially hurting myself.
It would be easy to give up climbing so that I wouldn’t have to face that fear— no, that’s not right. It wouldn’t be easy because I do love climbing. But there are certainly times when out on the sharp end of the rope when I wonder why I put myself through that visceral fear, willingly, no less.
I’m not traditionally a thrill seeker. I like distance sports, not speed sports. I prefer running trails to mountain biking them. I have a healthy respect for moving water and will often wear a life jacket even when others do not. I’m conservative when it comes to finances, always wanting to have a little extra stashed away just in case.
But with rock climbing, I push myself to do the things that I know will scare me. In the past few days, I’ve been in the midst of that mental battle several times. I’ve stepped up to the plate to lead routes that I knew were at the edge of my ability and strength. I’ve fallen off one such route, falling onto a piece of protection that I had placed quickly and didn’t completely trust. It held. Instead of building an anchor and asking my partner to finish the route, I made myself give it another go even though I thought it likely that I’d fall off again. After we had to bail because of an unexpected rain storm, I went back on my own and set up a rappel to go back and retrieve the gear I had to leave behind — even though I wasn’t sure I was in the exact right place, that my rope would even reach the ground.
I think it comes down to trust in yourself. Trust that even though the thing is scary, you’ll be able to figure it out and be okay in the end. That you’re smart enough and capable enough to avoid disaster. That you can succeed despite being afraid. And each time that I prove to myself that I was okay, that I did avoid disaster, and that I am capable, the fear loses a little bit of its power. It builds character and allows you to pursue objectives that don’t seem possible at first.
So when people ask me about rock climbing and question, “Aren’t you scared?” I reply, “All the time.” It’s not whether or not you’re scared that’s important. It’s what you do while you’re scared, I think, that tells you more about the character of a person. And just like everything else, it takes practice to do well.
So go do scary things.
This is post #15/31 for Blaugust 2024.