A few weeks ago, my husband and I had a rare opportunity to climb without our son tagging along to the gym. Now that I’ve overcome my fear of belaying my husband (2 twists in the rope helps boost my confidence!), we were looking forward to some focused climbing time.
Only I bombed. For some unknown reason, my brain was not in the game that day. I was getting short of breath, failing to execute simple moves, and that compounded my exasperation. I wondered if it had anything to do with my time off from injuring my shoulder.
As I considered why I was so off, the closest comparison and explanation I could come up with was that my rhythm was off. When I play piano, I have a certain ritual of arranging the bench, the music, even my hair. I do it without thinking. I didn’t even know it existed until my biggest fan (my mom) pointed it out to me. These simple arrangements allowed my mind to focus, distractions to fade, and I could execute my performance with excellence.
This was not the case for climbing that day. It went something like this:
“Belay is on.”
“Climb on.” I climb up two holds.
My wedding ring is still on! How did I forget to take it off? I reach with my right hand, move my left foot into position.
It sure is grinding into my finger. Climb a few more feet.
Which of these holds is actually on this route? There are 5 different colors here! Move another move up.
I hope I don’t hurt my shoulder.
Not the most helpful, focused internal dialogue.
While I’ve been taught to tie in and go through the climbing commands and checks to ensure safety, I don’t think I’ve yet embraced the process as my mental preparation.
The more I climb the more I believe climbing is 50% mental and 50% physical. If I don’t have it together in my head, its better to not even get on the wall.
For much of my life, playing piano meant that distractions would fade, music would surround me and for a time I’d be transported elsewhere. It wasn’t my experience when I first started however.
I hope that as I progress in climbing, that when I hear “climb on”, distractions disappear, my thoughts fade away and I send with confidence.
Until next time, send on.
[Also: I have to apologize publicly to my husband for my last post. It was never my intention to paint him as someone who is inept. In fact he is quite the opposite. He is truly inspiring for all the trials and challenges he perseveres through. I thought I was being funny in my last post, but I realized later that it could be interpreted as mean spirited or demeaning, and that is certainly not my intent. My first post on this blog more accurately describes how I view him.]