A story about woodworking

About a year ago, on a whim, I joined a nearby rock climbing gym during its grand opening weekend. This is an activity I knew nothing about and had zero experience with, but I decided to give it a shot. It was challenging and a little scary, but I was immediately hooked.

When you climb, you’re attached to a rope and tied into a harness. The other end of the rope is attached to a partner on the floor who maintains tension as you climb, manages slips and falls, and safely lowers you back to the floor. This is called belaying.

In order to really enjoy climbing, you need to learn how to belay and then get certified so that you can climb with a partner and take turns climbing. So on my next visit to the gym, I took a belay class where I learned how to tie knots, lower a climber, and learned climbing terminology, jargon, and etiquette. I was soaking it all up like a sponge. Tie a couple knots? No problem…piece of cake. I went home and watched a bunch of rock climbing videos on YouTube. The following day, secure with my plethora of newfound knowledge and wisdom, I confidently hiked back into the gym and took my belay certification test.

And I failed.

What I felt before the test wasn’t confidence, but arrogance. There’s actually a term for this: the Dunning-Kruger Effect. When you learn something new, it’s common to have a spike at the beginning where you overestimate your knowledge or skills. Watching videos and taking a single class was no substitute for actual practice.

The next day I got to the gym early and practiced over and over with a friend I met who also failed her first test. We tied knots, practiced rope handling techniques, and quizzed each other. We took the test again and we each passed. It really wasn’t that hard, but I’m kind of glad I failed the first time because it made me much more focused on my second try. I took it far more seriously. Today, belaying is second nature, but I still treat every climb with the same focus I had on the test. It’s exciting knowing that I have a lot to learn by putting in hours, months, and years of actual climbing. It will never get boring or routine.

What I love about climbing is that there is no cap on the challenges it offers. During every climbing session, I discover new routes to try and push myself to climb routes with a higher level of difficulty. (For any of you who climb, I am currently working on completing my first 5.11a rated route.)

Climbing is a great physical activity, but it’s not limited to a certain body type or strength level. There are an equal number of women as men, climbers in their 70s and beyond, as well as children and families. A lot of climbing has to do with balance, technique, and body positioning. Scaling a 40-foot wall is a controlled way to face fears, learn from your mistakes and discover what you're capable of when you actually get off the couch and try.

But mostly I love the mental game. Every climb is a problem-solving activity. For every route, there is any number of ways to get to the top: which footholds to use, how to pivot your body, hand placement, etc. There is only one goal for any route, but many ways to achieve that goal. The more practice and experience, the better you get at recognizing which methods and techniques to use in a given situation.

I recently decided to level-up my climbing game and took it outdoors to tackle my first ever climb on a real mountain. It was much scarier, more exhausting, and even more exhilarating than indoor climbing. My first climb was sloppy, but I will never forget the joy of reaching the top, feeling the wind, and taking in the view. I did a thing.

When you’re working on a challenging route, it might take many attempts to get to the top, getting further and further each time as you solve specific problems. These are called your “project” routes. And as you probably already know, not much can compare with the feeling of completing a particularly challenging project.