“Falling is feeling.”
“I really don’t think so.”
“Really—try it.”
“Falling?”
“Flying.”
“Huh, you’re funny.”
~
I wish I could explain away fear. I wish, if someone told you, “You don’t have to be afraid,” you’d be able to believe it in your head and your body. But your body betrays you, doesn’t it? Your head might believe it but fear grips your thundering heart and sweaty palms with a vengeance.
As a competitive rock climber, I compete in a discipline called sport climbing, which is essentially climbing with a rope on walls that are between 50 and 70 feet tall. Once you’re old enough, you can’t be on top rope anymore (where you have an anchor at the top of the wall), but USA Climbing requires you to transition to lead climbing, a version of sport climbing where you clip yourself into quickdraws (also called clips) on the way up the wall. Essentially, you’re responsible for creating your own anchors. The plus: it’s more realistic for outdoor climbing. The downside: the falls are far. Sometimes over 20 feet far. And the worst part is—if you’re not careful, you can hit the ground. (Side note: this is called ‘decking,’ and no, it’s not the same thing as knocking someone down in a fight.)
Ironically, fall practice is called “Flight School” at my gym, and everyone is required to do it before they lead climb for real. Basically, you climb up the wall until your coach or instructor yells “Fall!” and you have to let go of whatever hold you’re on.
The first time I fell lead climbing, I think my heart actually leapt into my throat. I always liked being on a tight rope, liked having a very short fall. That’s not the case with lead climbing. I probably fell about six feet my first time around before slamming back into the wall. Not fun. I was shaking so bad that I didn’t think I wanted to go back on the wall again. I wanted to go back to the sweet comfort of top rope, where I didn’t have to fall so far.
~
“I don’t think I can do it.”
“You can.”
“You sure?”
“I’m sure.”
“Doesn’t matter. I’m still not doing it.”
“You know, the farther the fall, the softer the catch.”
“Huh?”
“Just let go.”
~
Fear is a funny thing. A fickle thing really. It doesn’t wait for explanations, for reasons, for logic least of all. It barrels down dark tangents and dives head first into heightened senses. Words, while powerful, don’t always chase away fears.
For a while, my fear of falling on lead became something I could count on more than the sun being in the sky. I grew to hate lead climbing, and would complain about it any chance I got. I would beg my coaches to go back to top rope, but they wouldn’t let me. I loathed what I feared because I let it consume me, let it shape me.
I wish I could say one word from my coaches fixed my fear, but it didn’t. It was just plain and simple: facing it.
It was when I realized that in order to score points, I had to try hard, that changed how I viewed lead climbing. Because trying hard meant I was going to fall. Sometimes really far. It was inevitable. I had to decide if my love for my sport was more than my fear of falling.
So I began to volunteer for Flight School. Force myself to let go high above the clip. Take fifteen foot falls. And gradually, by facing my fears, by experiencing them, by forcing myself to fall and to fail, I became better at climbing.
Now I think I understand what my coaches mean now when they say “the farther the fall, the softer the catch.” It’s not only specific to climbing, but it also means that the more you embrace your fears and show them that they are not more than what you love, (essentially, the more you let yourself fall instead of trying to resist it), the more your fears have the potential to work with you instead of against you.
Today, lead climbing is one of my favorite disciplines. I don’t mind falling now, and sometimes, taking a big fall feels relaxing in a way. But my encouragement to you, reader, is this: whatever fears you might have, whatever falls are keeping you from doing what you love—face them. Embrace them. Show them that they don’t define you. I don’t know if a short inspirational speech will help you face your fears, but maybe by experiencing them, you can learn that they aren’t so bad. Learn that falling isn’t so bad after all.
~
“How was it?”
“Actually…kinda okay.”
“You fell pretty far.”
“Yeah, I did.”
“Told you you could do it. Do you want to do it again?”
“Are you kidding me? I’m always up for another round of Flight School.”
