The Rock Warrior's Way: Mental Training For Climbers

can step up … and then step back down. The static medium of rock places full responsibility on us for timing our choices and following through. We can waste vast amounts of power through tentative, ambivalent, incomplete choice-making or by second-guessing a well-made and well-timed choice.
    The Risk of the Comfort Zone
    People, climbers included, naturally tend to seek security and comfort. Within the familiar context of our “dangerous” and “adventurous” sport, we still resist extending ourselves into insecure and uncomfortable situations. We have trouble leaving that large handhold or that bombproof cam, even though no learning is taking place there. It’s important to reaffirm our commitment to learning and remind ourselves that we really do want to make “risky” choices.
    Paradoxically, taking risks actually increases our safety and comfort. Sudden danger lurks everywhere—losing our jobs, being struck by a car, contracting a mortal illness. A cowering, protective approach to life doesn’t reduce the peril. It only serves to make us slaves to fear and victims of constant anxiety.
    The safety, comfort, and security we crave aren’t objective states. They are subjective feelings that come through increasing our understanding of our world and our capabilities. In short, we gain comfort and security by expanding our comfort zones, and we expand our comfort zones by venturing into the risk zone. We make ourselves uncomfortable and insecure for a short time in order to learn what we’re capable of. We can’t directly attain comfort and security; we must strive for them indirectly.
    The Right Choice?
    Choices are not right or wrong, good or bad. Life would be a bit boring if it was so simple. You never know the full, long-term ramifications of a choice. Conscious choices are more like tests of our knowledge, providing opportunities for concrete lessons on the ever-wandering path of knowledge.
    Let’s say you’ve been climbing for a couple of years, and you’re now moderately proficient at arranging protection and understanding protection systems. How did you get to that state? Were you making “bad” choices as a beginner when you chose five different nuts before finding one that best fit the crack? No, you were simply learning about how nuts work in a very effective way—experimentation. That’s an easy example of “bad” or “wrong” choices being simply part of the learning process. Let’s look at a less obvious example, a choice we’d be more likely to call “bad,” one with serious consequences. Suppose you’re a more advanced climber and you know how to quickly place solid gear. You’re at your local crag, pushing yourself on a short route, and you decide it’s safe to risk a fall on a crux move. You blow the move, fall, and swing unexpectedly into an obstacle, badly spraining your ankle. You’re taken totally by surprise. The obstacle was well out to the side of your gear and nowhere near where you were climbing. Your climbing day is over. Two other climbing parties are involved in your rescue. Worst of all, it will be weeks until you can climb again, by which time you will have lost that fitness edge you worked so hard to gain.
    You certainly aren’t rejoicing in your choice to go for that move … but was it a “bad” choice? You learned a lesson about fall dynamics in a way you will remember. A year later, you find yourself in a similar situation facing what you once considered a safe fall. This time you’re 2000 feet up on a remote climb in Alaska. Because of your “bad” choice a year earlier, you realize that a swinging fall here could slam you into a nearby dihedral. You rearrange the protection to create a longer, scarier, but safer, straight-down fall. Despite a strong effort you fall off and land unhurt. You go up again, make it through the section, and continue on the climb. Your “bad” choice a year earlier very likely just saved you from taking a dangerous, swinging fall and involving you and your partner in an epic, multi-day self-rescue.
    A small mistake one day prevented a big mistake on another day. “Bad” choices often teach you something and become more valuable than the “good” choices. The warrior knows this and foregoes the “good” and “bad” designations altogether. A warrior is involved in the process of discovery, in the great adventure, and what he seeks is knowledge. Good and bad are misleading concepts, which imply we know more