Last night I tried climbing for the first time. It wasn’t the indoor rock climbing with harnesses and ropes like I imagined. Nope. We were climbing boulders (indoors). No ropes, no harness. Just us scaling up rocks on the side of a wall with a squishy mat at the bottom. And I was a little more nervous about it than I thought I’d be. Bouldering wasn’t my thing, though I was able to make it up about 4 different ones. Still, everyone else looked like an expert compared to me.
The climb never looks that bad from the ground and the top never seems that high until you actually start. About a little over half way up, you look down and you realize how far that fall really is. Then you think about losing your grip and fumbling and falling, and how embarrassing that is. You feel scared. For some people, they just get back up and start climbing again. For others, is a little harder because they remember that feeling before the fall or the unlikely hood of reaching that next rock that looks a bit too far out of reach. They dwell on the pulsing of their forearms that are asking for a bit of rest. Then they sit for awhile and watch as everyone else starts climbing and touching the top rock before they jump down to try a harder trail. The sport becomes both enticing and intimidating. You’re itching to go again. Your itching to improve. But you’re still sitting on the ground.
I think that’s how I’ve been at life. I have an itch behind my neck that’s nudging me to move, to just go and do, but sometimes I feel held back by my doubts. I’m held back by that fall backs I’ve had big and small. But life is supposed to be simple right? Go and do. And if you fail, get up and do it again until you get to the top.