Without Rocks There Would Be No Words

Climbing and writing have been parallel journey's for me. I never set out to "be a rock climber" just as I never thought "I want to be a writer." They've just been on the edges of my entire existence.

I remember the first times my hands touched rock and pulled, just as I remember the first times my hand touched a pen and put words to paper. But it was playing. Always playing. Never a passion. Not a love. Just something I liked and always had plans to do more of someday.

Until I had my first baby. Having my son was like the earth stopped spinning and then reversed directions. Everything was the same, but then again, everything was different.

A little over a year after I had him, I went out climbing for the first time in a few years. Great Falls National Park on a steamy July afternoon. The chalk was gummy. The climb supposedly easy. My legs quivered. My hands slipped. It took me twenty minutes of hang-dogging to ascend the 5.6 on a top-rope.

And when I touched the bolts at the top, something huge shifted into place for me.

I fell in love with climbing. I committed to falling. To failing. To being a climber with no apologies for my fitness, lack of fitness, lack of technical skill, skill, time in the harness or any other component. I fell in love with what I was on the wall, what it revealed about the world around me, and the bond it built between me and my husband.

And at the same time, I realized I could do the same with writing. That it was okay to fall in love, commit and possibly fail at something.

The thing is, once I committed to the inevitable failure and accepted who I was in both climbing and writing, it became easy to learn, easy to grow and gain skill.

Oh sure, sometimes I look over my shoulder and see the gorgeous and hard-bodied ascending the 5.13d beside my 5.9 project. And it's easy to open a book and find a writer who does something so beautiful with words it crushes into my soul and erases any pride in my own work. But those are good things in their respective roles. It humbles me and inspires me to work harder, work smarter, and appreciate the road behind me.

There is still so much ahead of me. So many more words to be written. So many more climbs to be climbed.

Climb (and write) on.