27 May I am not a climber, but i climb

How many times have you heard this before from fellow female climbers? How many times
after going to the gym you felt like an impostor, that you didn’t belong but then you came
back the next day and climb again? Why climb again when everything feels so against you?
What is it about climbing that make us come back even if when it brings so many insecurities
and fears to our life?

I have spent the last few months of my life in my local gym, wondering around ropes and I
asking myself: what am I doing here? And let me tell you, I am fascinated with how climbing
makes me feel: vulnerable, weak, slow, lonely, and then I come back for more. Why do I
come back?

Many beginners feel the same way and experience these same feelings. So, what is it about
climbing that instantly hooks people, makes them buy expensive gear, travel hundreds of
miles to climbing spots, get severe injuries and risk their life every time they go?

Why have I found myself doing these very these very things, when all signs have pointed to
STOP? Why climbing? I wrote this blog with the aim to share my personal experience with
climbing from a different perspective but most importantly, I hope you see yourself in some
of the words and most importantly, you find some answers to questions you have been
asking yourself.

This is my story

I migrated to the United States almost two years ago. I grew up in Costa Rica surrounded by
green mountains and an amazing wildlife diversity. As a little girl, exploring the outdoors
meant my grandma’s backyard or the river behind my house. When I became older, I knew I
wanted nature to becoming my profession and I graduated with a bachelor’s degree in
biology. During my time as an undergrad, I did countless trips to the most pristine natural
areas of the country. The gear? Rubber boots and cargo pants that cost $3 each at the thrift
store. This plus my small compact camera was pretty much everything I needed to explore
the outdoors.

In 2019, I moved to the US to pursue a doctoral degree in Ecology. My surroundings
changed. Suddenly I was spending my days sitting at a desk and riding the same bus every
day between my small apartment and the office. Not exactly what I pictured an ecologist
would be doing.

I was desperate.

My days had never been greyer than my days sitting at my desk. I was missing the lush
green of the forest, the songbirds, the rain. I didn’t have a car so the idea of going
somewhere was limited. Grad school can be an isolating experience, but being an immigrant
is even more. How can I explore my surroundings and get time outside if I don’t know

anyone? How do I get outside If I don’t have transportation? Is it safe for a woman of color in
the middle of Indiana to hike? How do I know?

This is when climbing came to me.

The first time I saw a climbing wall was at the campus gym. I had no clue about climbing. All
I saw was colorful pieces of plastic and heard people shouting to each other. It seemed
complicated, but I was curious. I sat and stared at the wall for 5 min and I told myself: “Well,
that could be fun! At least it will get me out of my desk?”

I was curious enough to ask the only climber I knew: another grad student in my program
who has been climbing for a while. He told me that if I wanted to learn I could contact the
outing club at campus. I was 30 years old, so the idea of learning a sport from 18-year-old
college students didn’t sink in well. I stopped asking questions and my curiosity died.

A few months passed and my friend from the grad program invited me and another friend to
climb in Indianapolis. When we got to the gym (my first time in a climbing gym!) my legs
were shaking. I was truly scared and there were so many questions going through my mind:

“What do I do with my shaky legs?”, “Why are these shoes so tight?”, “Where do I place my hands?”, “Why am I so sore?”, “If this is something people enjoy, why am I so scared?”

I didn’t get any answers that day, and afterwards my curiosity died. Yes, again.

I didn’t think about climbing for a while. Then, the pandemic started. My friend and I became closer and we started dating but I decided “climbing” was his “thing”. Why? Well, I was insecure for two reasons. On one hand, I was terrified about exposing myself to something new and challenging. Suddenly the outdoors were no longer rubber boots and cheap pants,
but I was now exposed to all the expensive gear, outdoor brands and elaborated trips to climbing spots. Not to mention the whole training involved in each step that entails climbing outside. It felt inaccessible for someone like me. On the other hand, his last two relationships were with real climbers! Women who have been climbing for a while and know what they are doing. No way I would put myself in that situation! What would they think? That I was trying to copy them? Or what would he think? Would I look ridiculous?

“I am not a climber” I would tell myself.

Somehow these words helped to manage my insecurities enough to keep trying.
It didn’t start great: my worst climb at the gym, I was second guessing myself all the time. I
would only climb 5.6 and maybe 5.7 routes and give up in maybe half of them. I was left out
of all conversations. What does “beta”, “send”, “crux”, “crimps” mean anyways?

My first time in a crag, equally bad. When we decided to go outside, I was scared but it was
finally some time outside in nature. At the crag, there was people with unleash dogs that
would pee everywhere, loud music, college “bros” climbing shirtless and discussing and
comparing their grades. All I wanted? My hammock. It has been so long I haven’t been
outside that the idea of sitting under a tree seemed magical. Five min passed and this lady
came at me and said: “you can’t set your hammock there; I am just telling you in case you
are not from here”. She didn’t say Hello.

And she was right, I didn’t belong.

And that’s the thing about being an immigrant. You know you don’t belong. You can
convince yourself that you don’t deserve kindness. I didn’t even look at her eyes. I only got
to say: “okay, will do”. I didn’t climb for the whole weekend. When I came back home, I cried
a lot. Why would I think I belong there? I felt out of place and missed my days hiking in the
rainforest with my rubber boots.

So, yet again, I was done with climbing for a while. It became toxic for me: I was comparing
myself to my boyfriend’s exes, to the guys that were climbing super advanced routes. I was
giving other people the power to diminish me. My relationship suffered too. He was missing
his climbing partner from his last relationship and I wasn’t even able to talk to him about
climbing. We broke up. I was left with $150 semester registration at the climbing gym, a
harness, my $40 beginner’s shoes and a brand-new helmet.

At this point I had two options: sell everything and lose my $150 and be done with climbing
or keep trying. When I was ready to sell everything on the Marketplace, I stopped myself.
Why would I give up? Why was I relying in others to motivate me or tell me I belong? Why I
was so concerned about everyone’s opinion except myself? Why did I decide climbing was
“his thing” instead of embracing climbing as something new and exciting coming to my life
through him?

I tried again. But this time felt different. I challenged my own narrative and now I was
climbing for myself. I could feel my body moving securely through the plastic and getting
stronger. I fell many times, but just laughed and jumped back on the wall again. I went from
5.6 and 5.7 to 5.10 withing three months. I was able to tie my own knots and I am now
leading 5.9 routes outside.

So why climbing? why did I come back to it?

I have come to the conclusion that climbing means different things to different people. Like
anything in life, what moves you and drives you it is as unique as a finger-print. What moves
you is based on who you are, your history, and where you see yourself going. I believe this
also happens with climbing. Some climbers are driven by fame and social media, others by
the physical aspect of the activity, many others that just want to be outside and time to time
you will meet people who climbing mean the greatest teacher.

I am one of those people.

Climbing came to my life in a time when I desperately need to be reminded that I am strong and capable to do many things by my own. I moved away from everything I knew, and I started a new life in the US alone. But climbing became my tangible experience, it grounded me, and allowed me to be vulnerable to my deepest fears. I was failing constantly but when I didn’t, it was an instant reward to accomplish those little things we know we couldn’t do before. Climbing showed me that I was heavily depending on a partner for approval and validation to climb when I only needed myself: climbing reminded me that my power comes from within. Climbing taught me that progress comes when I stopped comparing myself to others and truly listen to my own body. Perhaps when we can feel our bodies getting stronger, we are able to recognize small progressions even when we know we are not the “hardcore climbers” most aspire to be. Some of us enjoy climbing because for the first time
in months we are capable to leave our house and expose ourselves to something new. We find joy in the movement and the physical challenge that give our brains a little break from our jobs or personal life.

Now, if you ask me: would you consider yourself a climber? I would say: hell no! Being a
“climber” entails many aspects of the lifestyle that perhaps I am not ready for or do not want
to engage.

But I climb.

I plan to keep doing it and meet others that, like me, find joy in that single hour at the gym
where we challenge our bodies in the auto belay. I am eager to get to know these people
and listen to their stories. We might not be the person who aspire to be famous, or climb
Yosemite, or get sponsored by expensive gear brands but we are the people who want to
find community, laughs and joy.

Perhaps my only request to you climbers reading this blog is to spread kindness. That
person you see climbing at the gym in auto belay is perhaps going through something heavy
like the loss of a family member. The person you see trying a 5.6 probably woke up at 5am
and got their kids ready for school and is trying to find time for herself. That beginner asking
you tons of questions trusts you and admires you enough to consider you a climber,
someone to look at, share what you know. That person who ignores the rules about crags
could be an immigrant who has isolated for months and it’s probably their first time in a
climbing crag, if you know the rules better approach them and say hello, ask their name. You
would be surprised how well people respond to kindness.

And you are someone like me, reading this blog and finding yourself lost in your path to
climbing keep trying, keep asking. keep pushing. Find your people, I promise they are some
nice people out there. You belong to climbing because climbing is about you and how you
connect with your body and find joy in the process to share with your community. Many are
going to give you their backs or ignore you or tell you are not good enough. But some others
will encourage you and answer all the questions. Get a book. Go to the gym, even if it feels
you are not enough or you are not “climbing hard”. Progress will come but the inner strength
to find joy in something like climbing when everything seems against you is rare.

Validate that.

Celebrate you!

-By Katherine Gonzalez