The sport is indoor rock climbing without rope, or bouldering, but I’m just going to call it climbing.

It wasn’t something I had been longing to do. I had heard of North Mass Boulder, but mostly because I would hear yoga friends talk about yoga classes there. I really had no inclination to go.

But my friend Meg had mentioned it a few times, and offered to take me as a guest. We made plans to attend a yoga class and then climb. 

When I arrived at the gym, my eyes must have looked like a kid in a candy store. During the yoga class, all I could think was, “I can’t wait to climb”. And when we almost didn’t because Meg had a lot of school work to attend to and hadn’t brought her climbing shoes, I momentarily panicked. But we both rented shoes, and at the completion of my first, beginner-level route, I was hooked. 

Over the several months I’ve been climbing, the list of reasons why I love it keeps growing.

The first reason I fell in love with it was that it felt like pure play. It still does. As a kid, there wasn’t a tree, or a combine, an attic stair I wasn’t eager to traverse. Other than emergency preparedness in the chance that I should have to hang onto a bridge or the side of a building to save my life, there’s not much of a point, other than play.

The second reason that I fell in love with it is that I was good at it! I could feel the advantage of my long time yoga practice, my strength, and my flexibility. I felt confident in my body positioning and movement. That if I reach my arm out here, or my leg out there, that it would get me where I needed to go. The more I climb, the more my own body and strength amazes me. At first, I couldn’t believe that I could push the weight of my entire body up by balancing on the ball of my foot on a hold smaller than a tape measure. For most of my life, I’d been doling myself out a lot of body shame and criticism, so this new found sense of body amazement was a welcome change in self talk.

The third reason I fell in love with climbing surprised me. It’s not uncommon to appreciate the “good” pain of a run or workout. But most days, I leave the climbing gym feeling like I’ve been in Fight Club with a wall. I wear the scrapes and bruises on my hands, arms, and legs like badges of honor. I show off my now-calloused hands with pride. What you can’t see are the muscle pulls in my hamstrings, my forearms, and my shoulders. But existing pain doesn’t keep me from going back, and eventually the limping, stiff legs and sore arms give way to definition and toned muscles like I’ve never seen before.

But the true magic of climbing is in falling. And falling again. And again. And over and over again. Sometimes I land on my feet. Sometimes I land on my ass. I almost always cuss. 

When I first started, I’d climb as many routes as I could as fast as I could, as if it might all be taken away from me. In a sense, that’s true. Eventually, each route is taken away. The walls are routinely rebuilt. This is something that I’ve learned to love… especially watching the routes that I haven’t managed to complete go away. It reminds me that, good route or bad route, this too shall pass.

With the wisdom of several months of climbing under my belt, I’m re-learning the importance of rest. Between these falls, instead of getting frustrated, blaming the route setters, or criticizing my own abilities, I’m learning to sit down, catch my breath, drink some water, and work on another route before going back to try again.

When I go back, I use what I learn from my previous climbs and falls. I remember that with a little extra swing here, I can get my hand there… It all adds up. And with a few more tries, I’ll complete the route. And after I do, it gets easier and easier.

My Dad always called me “one tough cookie”. He was a pilot, motorcyclist, and amateur race car driver, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t inherit his thrill-seeking streak.

But being called “tough” is something I tussle with. For an object, Oxford Dictionary defines “tough” as “strong enough to withstand adverse conditions or rough and careless handling”. I consider the jokes I’ve made over the years about how hard I am on my phones, clothing, purses, shoes, electronics, and cars… From this perspective, I can absolve my own sense of responsibility. It’s not my careless handling that was the problem, it was that these objects weren’t tough enough!

When we are talking about people, “tough” is defined as “able to endure hardship or pain”.

We all face adversity in various forms… some more than others, and different people will respond to similar types of adversity in totally different ways. This is referred to as resiliency, or “the capacity to withstand or recover quickly from difficulties; toughness”. There’s that word again! Is the dictionary implying that resilience and toughness are the exact same? What is my problem with this word?! And why do they feel so different!?

As I scroll past the initial definitions of “tough” as an adjective, describing a person or thing, there’s another definition, describing a “tough” as a noun. This definition “a rough or violent person” is associated with the words “bully” and “brute”. Bingo. Not unlike me with my poor shoes and cars, this definition of “tough” comes with an ability to absolve oneself from causing harm, or the rough and careless handling of others.

How do we be tough without becoming tough? How do we build personal resilience to life’s adversity while remaining open-hearted and kind to others, and even more important, to ourselves?

The answer is simple but not easy. It’s by giving ourselves a million chances. It’s about acknowledging that the adversity we face is HARD and can SUCK! We can get lost and we can forget what matters and we can make mistakes and we can make bad decisions and that’s all OKAY! Because as long as we’re breathing, we have more chances to get it right.

The addendum of “toughness” to the definition of “resilience” aside, my favorite part of that definition is to “recover quickly”. It implies a few things. First, that there is something to recover from… okay… shit happened. Now what? Second, recovery is always possible! Here are those million chances. Finally, if at all possible, recover sooner than later. Life is short. Get back up. Knowing that you are going to fall again, that falling is inevitable, get back up. And get back up. And get back up. 

This is what I love about climbing. There is no victory without falls. The falls, the scrapes, the sprains are just as much a part of the sport as the “sends” (climbing lingo for successful ascents).

Now, I’m not saying you must jeopardize your currently intact skin organ, sprain your ankle or otherwise injure yourself to become resilient. But you can’t just do nothing either! Whether what you are ascending is a climbing wall, a metaphorical ladder, or a very real set of stairs just trying to make it from Point A to Point B, know that if you are doing anything, you are going to fall. Remind yourself that it’s okay, and start over. This is the essence of climbing. (But you really should try it sometime!)