I Didn’t Trust My Body — Until It Carried Me Up a Wall

Hard-Won Lessons From 30 Feet Up, Where Trust Starts

Photo by Brook Anderson on Unsplash

My palms were sweaty. Not from heat, just nerves. The kind that creeps in before your brain even knows what you’re afraid of. My legs trembled.

The wall didn’t flinch. It just stood there, indifferent, like it had seen a thousand people hesitate and wasn’t about to coax me into trying. The route shot straight up, all jagged holds and cruel angles.

It looked like someone had built it to expose me — to make sure the strangers nearby, all chalked-up and fearless, would see me stall.

But here’s what nobody tells you about rock climbing: it’s not really about the wall.

Photo by bady abbas on Unsplash

The Wall Is Just a Mirror

Envision this. You’re suspended 30 feet above the firm earth. Your forearms are screaming. That’s when the magic happens.

Your brain starts spinning stories, like these:

“You can’t do this.” “You’re gonna fall.” “Everyone’s watching you fail.”