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An illustration of Veronica's profile. She has long, brown hair, medium-toned skin, and is wearing a blue tank top.

climbing the wall by Veronica P. '27

why so defeatist?

There are a lot of phrases in the english language that can be used to describe me- “athletically inclined” is not one of them. I can appreciate and enjoy a sport, but never with a true passion that exceeds, say, a month at a time.

All this to say- when my friends invited me to go bouldering with them (think rock climbing but without a rope), I thought it would be a fun, one-time-only endeavor.

And the outing began pretty much as anticipated. I got some climbing shoes, chalked up my hands, acquainted myself with the wall, and attempted the beginner level- success!!

Ever the perfectionist, I resolved to complete every route for the base level (V0) before I could upgrade myself to the next one (V1). Only then could I prove my “worthiness.”

I soon, however, hit a roadblock: chipping away at the same routes again and again just to be met with the same pesky rocks I couldn’t quite reach, the same steps that left me resigning myself to the mat, unable to progress beyond the most rudimentary of levels. By then, I had convinced myself that my one, initial success didn’t “count”. The technique was all wrong, it was beginner’s luck.

After what felt like the millionth one of these attempts (more realistically- probably the eleventh), I wiped my hands and let my sigh- half exertion, half defeat- propel me back towards our station at the end of the mat, where my friend had been watching from a distance; I wasn’t the only one who was tired of my routine.

“It’s like you’re deciding you can’t climb these walls before you even attempt them.” 

Immediately, I knew she was right. Every movement I made- and didn’t make- was laced with doubt: I can’t reach that far, I don’t have the momentum to get there, I’m not strong enough, I’m going to slip, I’m going to fall, I’m going to lose my grip, I’m already losing my-

Often, we make decisions about the outcome well before it’s arrived: I’m going to bomb that interview. I’m going to fail this test. I’m not getting over this heartache. I’m not getting into that college. I’m just going to embarrass myself. I’m just wasting my time. 

Maybe we’re right. Maybe we’re wrong. Maybe we have reason to believe the things that we do. Maybe it’s best to manage expectations.

But when you know you’re going to attempt it regardless, there’s no point in psyching yourself out about the outcome. If you tell yourself you can’t climb that wall, you’re going to approach it as someone who can’t climb it. You’re going to discourage yourself from reaching for that next step. When you feel yourself start to slip, you’re going to let yourself fall, you’re not going to see the point in trying to recover it. You’re going to be right. 

So, I looked at my wall, and I told myself that I could climb it. Poetically enough, I did. Just for good measure, I climbed another. The next weekend, I biked back and climbed an even harder one.

(Whatever your wall is, you can climb it too. )

A girl climbing on a rock climbing wall, towards the bottom of the wall.