It’s that time of year again — gyms everywhere are slammed with folks who – let’s face it – have no idea what they’re doing. Maybe it’s you. We’ve all been there…huddled over in the corner in a nervous clump, desperate not to look like a noob.
If this is you, then right now you’re me. I decided this year to really push my comfort zone — strike out and try new things: new classes, new experiences. You get the picture. I don’t want to just try new things though; I’m determined to try things that scare the living crap out of me. You are probably thinking I’d be used to that sensation by now, but nope, I’m really not, so it’s time to work on that.
Drew decided he really wanted to join a climbing gym and he wanted me to join him. “Great,” I thought. “I’ll be the resolutioner.” By this point I know my way around a gym or road or pool…I’m even pretty comfortable there. But I have never climbed EVER–not even as a kid. I’ll let you in on a little secret. I’m really terrified of heights–like full on vertigo, going-to-throw-up terrified, so I knew this was the year to try it.
Off to the gym we went, rented our equipment, and went into the gym for orientation. I was an absolute train wreck. I looked up and up and up and got vertigo from looking up. Seriously, y’all. I sat down to calm down and put my rented climbing shoes on. In my terror of A) having to climb and B) being the new kid, I became absolutely obnoxious, loudly proclaiming that I was an Ironman and that experience hadn’t scared me, so this shouldn’t either. In fact, both experiences terrified me to the core, but…anyway. I’m sure people in earshot were eye-rolling but stating it out loud calmed my nerves enough to at least put the gear on.
Drew suggested we try bouldering first. Not high-no ropes climbing. Sure, I said, faking enthusiasm. I couldn’t even get more than two feet off the ground. I was literally petrified with fear. OK, Drew said, then let’s try the ropes. We headed over to the auto-belay stations. The wait in line seemed interminable. I felt queasy. Then it was go time. I strapped in and started to climb. I’m not sure how high I got, but I did the stupid thing and looked down. That was all it took – I full on melted down.
Drew told me just to lean back and let go to come down. I was petrified. I couldn’t move. Every cell in my body screamed at me to keep hanging onto that wall for dear life because certain death awaited if I let myself go. I was stuck. Eventually, I forced my fingers loose and fell. It seemed like I fell five feet before the belay caught me, which I know was only seconds. But once I got back on the ground, I felt like vomiting. Tears started spilling down my face. I was done, finished. Nope, never doing that again. Drew said he understood and went to climb himself. I went to sit down and calm down.
After I calmed down, I began thinking. I am an Ironman. I wasn’t going to let some stupid wall get the best of me. I began pulling my shoes back on as Drew approached. “You’re going back up, aren’t you?” he said smugly.
Grimly, I said I was. I clipped back in and up I went–making it to about the same place as before. I dropped down again trembling. No one else was in line, so up I went again. I charged back up the wall — making it a couple of feet higher. When I came back down, I lay on my back for a minute. That’s enough for today, I decided, letting the shaking subside before I got back up.
Long story short, I’ve headed back to face that fear several more times since the first. I’m sure a lot of other folks are doing something similar. According to Strava, January 19th was Quitter’s Day, so if you see some of these terrified faces still showing up at a gym, road, or pool near you, give them a smile or a high-five. They’re pushing past that fear and getting better one terrified step at a time. And, as I was so recently reminded, that fear is not so easily conquered.
Tales from the Back of the Pack 