Is Climbing Zero-Sum?

In some ways, traveling acts as a litmus test for the strength and purity of your love for climbing. With more exposure to people, places, and pitches, the majority of us realize this solemn truth - we are small fish in a VERY big pond.

Yours truly climbing in the "big pond" that is Rifle, June 2021
Simply Read (13d/8b)
Photo: John Heidbreder

You see, I'd venture to say the majority of climbers (certainly of those I've met), started climbing before they were adults. As kids or teenagers, we have a natural inclination to prove ourselves, to best others, and to use these acts as a way of fitting in. It feels good to be good. This mentality evolves, and eventually trickles into our relationship with climbing as adults. As it becomes harder to stay relevant, or at least, feel relevant, a lot of people shove climbing aside. School, career, family, injury - these are all reasons cited to excuse people's drop in commitment. And it makes sense. When we are young, we have so little with which to define ourselves. We go to school, and we sometimes have one or two other things we do (i.e. climbing). As we grow older, those same reasons for leaving or declining in climbing are indeed very significant things with which to define oneself. 

I am 26 years old, and I've been climbing for ten years now. In hindsight, what I think always set me apart was my commitment. My commitment to climbing sometimes came in drastic forms. I abandoned finding a job when I graduated, in lieu of a life spent traveling - a life sponsored by my own manual labor, some naivete, and most of my meager savings. My deified passion guided the next minute, hour, day, week, month, and year of my life. 

Four or so months of this would pay for the rest of my year to be spent climbing and traveling. Backbreaking work in the midwestern wind farms.

Has that changed? 

Well, it's starting to. What I'm realizing in my "old age", is that I have spent a great deal of my time subscribed to the paradigm that climbing is a zero sum game. Every choice favoring climbing over normalcy, over a career, over financial security, over a stable relationship, over other interests, over my own health even - every one of these choices I made was under the pretense that it left me with more to gain from climbing. After all, by definition of "zero-sum", every sacrifice ought to leave me with as much to gain. 

And whether or not this is true, I find myself favoring, even hoping, this paradigm might hold truth. It would grant more control, and we climbers certainly crave control. And yet, desire alone doesn't beget outcome. To climb at our best, desire must be accompanied by both discipline and privilege. I wouldn't give myself top marks in any of these categories, but I do think I rank pretty high in each - especially desire and privilege. 

Climbing on this wall is itself one of life's greatest privileges...though not what I mean when I mention privilege.

So what if it were true? Would that bring me closer to climbing 9a? Closer to being a lifelong climber? Closer to helping others understand and build their relationship with climbing? Closer to chasing novel experiences at home and abroad? Closer to others with whom to share those experiences?

And what if it's not true? Are my "sacrifices" in vain? Or would climbing not being zero sum simply mean I get to have my cake and eat it? Get to prioritize others and myself. Prioritize myself and my climbing. Even as I write this out, I agree with both sides. To be our best in something requires sacrifice. But to be our best in something often requires us to rely on others as much as ourselves.

So yes, I do want to climb 9a, be a lifelong climber, help and coach others...and these aspirations may not all work in conjunction. Can I coach, travel, and peak in my climbing? Can I effectively share my experience/knowledge without being rooted in one place? Neither question is as simple as "yes" or "no", but trying to exemplify "yes" to the best of my ability seems to be what occupies most of my foreseeable future. Let's see...

Thor's Hammer: Beginnings

 Five years ago, I had the trip of my life. Fresh out of college, I came to Flatanger, Norway, for 3 months. I had no experience climbing full-time, and it really changed the course of my life. I learned what can be achieved when a smart approach, a patient mind, and the right people are with you. I showed up with a single 8b/+ in my book, and walked away with my first two 8c's and my first 8c+, as well as a radically different outlook on climbing. 

2018 Lohan nearing the top of Odin's Eye 8c+. 
Photo: John Heidbreder

Towards the end of that trip, I spent a few days exploring the moves on Thor's Hammer. The route was bolted by Magnus Mitbo, and FA'd by Adam Ondra. Magnus originally thought it landed in the 9b realm, and Adam proposed 9a+ after doing the FA. Subsequent ascents confirmed the grade until new kneebars were found, and Seb Bouin proposed a downgrade to 9a as a result. 

My first ventures on the route were with the support of my friend Josh, who had just spent ~2 months projecting, and eventually sending, the route. It was really incredible to climb on. Most of the moves I could do - just BARELY, and just one at a time. The crux admittedly was beyond me, and I could never stick the final, hardest move. It took everything to hold onto the wall, and there was no chance of actually pulling through the holds in the crux section. But I could hold the holds...those perfect, fine-grain granite pinches and tiny incuts. They stuck with me for 5 years, like a dream marinating into an obsession. Those holds became my phone and laptop backgrounds. That crux would come to mind anytime I had a breakthrough. I just sent my hardest boulder. I wonder how I'd fare on the Thor's crux now...

With my two close friends from the Southeast, Braxton and Billy, I'm back in Flatanger. I've got roughly 6 weeks this time to recon the route, get to know its intricacies, its pace, its demands, its beauty. I knew my biggest limiting factor on the route would be strength, so I spent 2 months bouldering in Rocklands before coming here. It was a phenomenal trip, with a few breakthroughs in its own right. I flashed V10 for the first time, and sent a pretty daunting and brand new grade of V13 with the ultra-classic "Vice" in my final week there. I'm feeling stronger and smarter than ever, and it's showing dividends already. 

I've had 3 days on Thor's Hammer so far. It's been brutally hot most days, but we've carried on anyway. It felt a bit surreal to revisit those moves 5 years later. So much has happened.... I moved into a van and for the first 3 years, I worked a bit of rope access jobs and climbed a LOT. The last two years I began working at The Climbing Academy - something which has changed my life in more ways than I can list here. And now I'm back where this dream-seed was planted. 

In these 3 days I've managed to do all of the moves in the first half of the route (the hardest part). There's plenty still to learn and explore, and it's certainly the biggest project I've undertaken. But first impressions are that 1) the route is, 5 years later, still among the best I've ever tried, 2) going to be very VERY difficult, and 3) is worth it.

Each day on the route needs to be committed to a specific part. It's 65 meters of steep cave climbing, so it's impossible to just go up the route 2 or 3 times a day. Instead, I choose to work the first quarter (Q1), second quarter (Q2), or second pitch (P2 - the second half of the route after a rope swap). Q1 is the hardest, and in reality, the route would still hold its grade at 9a if the anchors were at the 7th bolt (end of Q1). However, you get about 30 more bolts of climbing until it counts for anything ;), and those 30 bolts are far from a victory haul.

Each of the above vids are the hardest moves on the route, around bolt 6. These are the moves I couldn't do in 2018...and the whole boulder is about V10. I'll add in more context about each part in the coming days/weeks. For now, I just wanted to journal and share a few thoughts about how psyched I am to feel this dream sprouting.