On our first conditioning hike back in April, I was nervous about my sore ankle and felt shy around so many strangers so I lagged behind the rest of the team with one of the instructors. It didn’t take long for my body and heart to start warming up.
Within five minutes, my instructor started answering my inquisitive questions with real talk. I liked her immediately. We had covered all the big stuff in our past, present and future by the time our team stopped for lunch overlooking Mt. Hood.
During our break we practiced belaying down the hill from anchors attached to the trees. I easily repeated the sequence of steps with knots and gear because I could look and understand. But, the climbing commands repeated verbally just went in one ear and out the other. The next day at our indoor rock climbing session at the Mazamas Mountaineering Center, my instructor walked over and handed me flashcards that she made after our hike.
With a huge “smizing” squint over my mask, I said, “THANK YOU!” just like it read on the last flashcard she’d made for my “cute little finish.”
Six weeks later at our final practice in the climbing gym, I knew the knots and commands by heart. Now, I was ready to practice the harder stuff like falling. And the hardest stuff like trust and dependence.
Standing on the one-inch thick and four-foot-long plywood ledge way up on the wall I hadn’t tried yet, my instructor nonchalantly leaned back into her harness and ropes just like sitting in a hammock—made only of air. Once I got up there, I immediately nudged my butt and back into the corner. I forgot my personal protection down below so we used make-shift carabiners and knots (a.k.a. the old-fashioned way that my parents climbed) to secure me to the anchors bolted to the wall.
Throughout the program, I specifically asked the instructors not to help me unlock a tricky carabiner or fix the rope because I wanted to be capable of doing it all by myself. My Mom used to joke that I tried to change my own diaper.
“Wait, before I rappel, can you show me how to do that?” I asked.
“Do what?” she replied.
“Lean into nothing.”
Even though I had three points of safety, the tears dripped down my face as soon as I leaned back from the wall. Defying all logic, the attachment felt insecure. My instructor, a trauma nurse and a mom, gently reassured me about how each anchor point, knot and equipment was attached, over and over, until I breathed more steadily and sniffled: THANK YOU. We both giggled.
It was not about the fear of falling.
It was about trust.
Depending on the anchors—set by others—and the personal protection—set by myself—for safety and support. Asking for and getting help. Being open to weakness and strength.
Of course, it’s important to be self-sufficient: Reliably staying safe and getting needs met. But, it must be balanced with interdependence. Because everyone’s choices affect the others.
Because we are not in this alone. We are in this together.
Did I need to do the last eight weeks of intensive training, conditioning and studying with the Mazamas in order to climb Mt. Hood? No. I realize now that I could’ve just hired a guiding company to train me for a day and then get me up there.
After essentially training by myself for 18 months, I see now it wasn’t just the dream of the mountain that kept me going throughout the pandemic. It was the dream of being better together.
As a team:
- Sharing gear when someone forgot something
- Looking out for hot guys for the only single person on the team (ahem)
- Deciding not to complete the whole hike when some folks didn’t feel well
- Walking in each other’s snowy footsteps
- Bringing victory beers to share
- Quickly agreeing to postpone our summit bid for better weather*
I now fully grasp: How difficult it is, what discipline it takes, how much of a commitment, why it is such an accomplishment.
Not only bearing witness but bearing withness.
May you lean into nothing and feel held this week.
Love,
Jules
*My climb was originally scheduled for May 24, 2021, and is currently postponed to June 3, 2021. Fingers crossed for better weather conditions. We’ll see!
I share a lesson learned about integrity every Monday. Sign up for delivery right to your inbox. Want more? There’s lots more lessons learned here on my blog, so have fun exploring and commenting about your own insights!