School, practice, school, practice, competition, rest day, school , practice. If you’ve grown up as a competitive climber this schedule will likely sound familiar to you. It was never a burden though, I loved it. I was happy to turn down party invitations to get some rest before a competition and I didn’t mind not participating in school sanctioned sports. I had a few friends at school, but none as close as my friends on the climbing team.
My entire life revolved around climbing, so it was only natural that when I began applying to colleges, climbing played a big part in this. I was an athlete who would have the chance to compete in one more year of the youth circuit while I was in college. I was so excited by the opportunity to train for the youth and adult circuit. It was crucial to me that I find a school where I would be able to do so.
Upon arriving at college, I quickly found a group of friends who had competed on the youth circuit. We always made sure to be on the school’s climbing shuttle when it ran on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Some weekends we would bike or take public transportation to make our way to another gym in the area.
We were still passionate climbers but we lacked any sense of direction. Our entire climbing paths had been very closely monitored by coaches, practice schedules and competitions. All of a sudden we seemed to be climbing aimlessly. We spent a lot of time laying on the floor. We pretended to stretch while playing on our phones and we never did any conditioning. Despite all of this, I still had the same lofty goals of competing at youth and open nationals.
It quickly became apparent that I was not training appropriately and would not be ready for these competitions. This fact along with an injury led me to seriously reconsider my climbing career.
After so many years of climbing for competition I did not know what climbing would look like. My climbing achievements defined who I was, so I held on to these goals. I kept telling myself that I would get back to competitions. Every year I told myself it would be the year that I trained harder and finally competed again.
Eventually I had to come to terms with the fact that competition climbing might not be in my future. This was a hard one for me to wrap my head around. I had been competing since I was 7 years old.
I watched as friends on social media who had once been some of the best competition climbers in the US were no longer posting pictures of climbing. They were at college parties or with friends on the beach. I tried to tell myself it was okay, that I could also quit climbing and find something else, but the draw of climbing was too strong and I had to keep coming back.
So, I had to figure out what climbing was if I wasn’t competing. I went on a few trips to Smith Rock, Leavenworth and other local Portland crags. I was shocked at how different outdoor climbing was.
All of my previous self worth was based on athletic accomplishments, now I was struggling to get up 5.11s. Smith rock is run out, I can’t read my route from the ground, I don’t know the hold make and model I am about to grab. I was not prepared for this lack of accomplishment. It left me with a feeling of emptiness. I often wondered how I could have possibly dedicated my entire life to a sport, and now struggle on certain V5s. I kept going on more and more trips, learning the rock type, learning to fall on uneven pads and stick clip as high as I could. Eventually, I began to see outdoor progress.
As progress came though, it wasn’t the same as when I was competing. There was no external validation. The people around me would fist bump, and if I was lucky I would have a video to post on Instagram that would get a couple of comments. There were no podiums, no medals, no celebratory pictures, coaches, parents, friends cheering your success. There was no results list to look at that had my name on the top. All I could think of was the list of women who had climbed harder than me.
I was trying to win outdoor climbing, because all I had ever known was climbing to win, but I had it all backwards. If I was winning, it was because I loved the sport so much. If I was putting in countless hours at the gym, it was because I loved the sport. Skipping out on parties, fast food, drinking etc. wasn’t the price I had to pay to win, it was something I happily did because I loved climbing. I didn’t love it because of podiums or medals, I just loved climbing.
No one prepared me to love climbing unconditionally. I believed the conditions were medals and podiums, but I am learning. The competition culture is a hard one to shake. I still seek approval from hard grades, and harder grades than other people, but I am trying to change this. I am learning that me doing a V4 dyno could be harder than me doing another V8 crimp line. I am finding accomplishment in having fun with others, doing things that are hard for me. I love being able to climb just for fun. I no longer train in the gym or have a strict schedule. Sometimes when I can’t do a climb I think about hitting the hangboard again, but I know the harder I train, the more pressure I will put on myself to have perceived impressive accomplishments.
As I coach the next generation of competitive climbers, I want to prepare them for all the competition success they desire, but I also want them to be ready to enjoy climbing in other ways. We climb outside, we climb for fun, we train hard and we play even harder. I am sure many of them will still feel lost if they step away from competition climbing, but I hope to be able to guide them along this path.
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