In April, I volunteered at an event at the rock climbing gym where I’m a member.
It was a bouldering event (short walls, no ropes) which is not something that I had done at all, but there were all sorts of fun, silly climbing (taller walls, with a rope) stations as well—one-handed, an obstacle course, a route made of old (looking) metal things, a “balance the ball on the spoon” route.
I decided that I would learn to boulder so that I could participate next year.
So…they changed it up a bit and are having a series of mini-competitions—all bouldering—and if you enter three of those (no charge for members), you can automatically enter into the Big Event in April.
I was mostly still at the “can’t get off the starting holds” stage of learning.
I decided that once I could climb ONE route to the top, I was going to sign up.
Two weeks ago, I did it!
Last night was the first event after that accomplishment, and so I went.
Let me share bits of “in my head” with you about this.
As I mentioned before, I am a recovering perfectionist. I have always been good at school, but I don’t volunteer unless I’m certain to be right/successful. Failing with an audience is shameful (“I am a failure” vs. “I failed”).
I’ve been working my way out of all of that—so many missed opportunities due to fear—and this event was a GIANT step outside of the comfort zone in the direction I want to go.
(People at Shumway: riding the backwards bike was a big deal.)
Unfortunately, this event is one where you sign up the day of. (I’m a big fan of registering while enthusiasm is high and then feeling obligated when I don’t want to follow through later.)
Shortly before it was time to get changed and leave the house, I sent two friends this text:
(Side note: bouldering isn’t any “less real” climbing than what I usually do.)
I sent a similar one to The Climbing Daddy.
Their responses were perfect:
(This is true. There’s never been an athletic community that I’ve been part of that hasn’t been supportive. Running, triathlon, climbing. People are happy you’re into what they’re into, and they’re happy to help. As long as you’re decently pleasant to be around.)
(This is true. Much like the above, it’s not making a fool, it’s taking a risk. The only people who would think me a fool—if I were to run into any—are the people who are insecure in their own skills or risk-taking. And their opinion doesn’t matter…)
(It was not that long ago that I couldn’t get off the ground—or off the starting holds. But I can now, even on routes that I can’t complete.)
So I changed clothes and went.
I talked to the guy running it and found out what to expect.
I signed up for a time.
I waited a while.
And I climbed.
I made it up the first route.
Someone I didn’t know cheered for me the second half of the route.
I didn’t make it up any more routes, though I tried two several times. (It would have been much nicer to be there by myself attempting those, instead of in a room full of people with much higher skill, but that’s just my self-consciousness.)
Also, the route that I climbed successfully is one grade harder than the one I completed a couple of weeks ago, so there’s that as well. (V.0- tonight vs. 5.8 the other day, for those who understand that.)
All in all, people were either friendly or didn’t take notice of me, both of which were fine options.
The next one is in January. Maybe I’ll make it up two routes. And not freak out before it’s time to leave.
As far as stretching my comfort zone? Mission accomplished.
