Free Fall

Let go or be dragged.

~ZEN PROVERB

Cinching my climbing harness, I exhaled. The last time I stepped into a climbing gym was pre-pandemic — maybe January 2020? Undoubtedly, I was nervous on many levels. Upper Limits was my first foray out into the world in over a year. (I did see one movie at Ragtag, but this felt WAY more questionable). Sweat accumulated on my upper lip beneath my mask. Exhale, I muttered to myself.

Here at my climbing home, the gym where I fell in love with climbing, I set out to burst my pandemic bubble. My trust muscles needed a workout; it was time to feel the power of my Pfizer vaccine antibodies. Eyeing the four other climbers in the gym, I slathered on more hand sanitizer: time to trust, time to climb.

Circling the gym, I examined routes near the auto-belay devices, anticipating my first ascent of 2021. Locating the perfect warm-up route, I clipped into the auto-belay device clumsily. Noting that I dislike climbing with an auto-belay, this strange yet wonderful contraption that allows me to climb without a belay partner, I grabbed the first hold.

The route felt too complex for a 5.8, or, truer, I felt weaker than expected. Grab a hold, find a toe hold, spread out, climb the wall. Repeat repeat repeat. Pivot, reach, lunge, my route was complete.

Two stories high, I glanced down at the floor beneath me. My hands were clammy; the first ascent always petrifies me. I eyed the plastic round auto-belay device, level with my eyes at the top of the wall, suspiciously. With 100 feet of rope coiled inside and some magical engineering to slow my descent, I only had to let go to repel down the wall. The plastic device did not look trustworthy. “Let go,” I told myself, “let go. It will catch you.” Have I mentioned I hate free falling, aka auto-belay?

My hands would not follow instructions; I could not let go. What if the device didn’t work? What if I fell plunging to the ground? Trust was not a strong point today. I climbed back down the wall, sweating profusely.

Climbing down is much more complicated than ascending. Legs, my most vital climbing asset, are of little use climbing down. Descending is all hands and forearms. My arms throbbed my fingers ached. This was supposed to be an easy climb. Four feet from the ground, I once again implored myself to Let Go. No can do. I clutched the holds like a frightened child holding onto a parent and climbed all the way to the bottom.

Leaning against the wall, I massaged my aching muscles. My forearms and hands were swollen from the descent workout. Fuck. I needed a plan, a trust plan. Climbing was no longer my mission; today was now about letting go.

Circling the gym, I spotted my challenge route. 5.10a in the corner, challenging but plenty of opportunities to use my legs. I trust my legs. My long, steady legs have never let me down. Exhaling strongly, I clipped in again, clumsier this time. Grabbing a small pinch hold, I slid my hand into a corner crack and ascended 3 feet. I could not hesitate, pushing away with my feet, I wrenched my fingers off the holds and let go.

Just for an instant, I felt the free fall, then the magical engineering of the auto-belay kicked in. I slowly lowered down to my dependable legs. My feet planted firmly, a perfect 10 landing. Safe. My trust muscles expanded.

I grabbed the wall. Grunting and sweating, I began the ascent in earnest. Ramming a foot into one corner, I heaved and pivoted my way up the challenging-to-me climb. Lunging for the final rock, I hoisted myself up 18 inches with a high step to grasp the last hold. I’d made the top, the first 5.10a of 2021.

I let go and floated down the wall nonchalantly. My two strong legs planted onto the floor once again. Releasing the carabiner, I fell backward onto the crash pad. Laughter and sobs mingled together as I felt the power of letting go.

About The Author

Susan Mathis, M.Ed., E-RYT 500, RCYT, YACEP

Susan is deeply committed to the practice of yoga, pranayama, and conscious living. A Professional Level, Kripalu Yoga Teacher, she offers steady guidance, practical knowledge and infuses the deep wisdom of yoga philosophy into her teaching. A lover of the natural world, adventure, and travel, Susan engages with nature through hiking, biking, and scuba diving. She is the owner and director of alleyCat Yoga and Yoga to Grow.