The other day I saw a big guy wearing a helmet climbing a relatively easy route in the indoor gym. He was making these horrendous screams as he was climbing. My boyfriend noted that he is probably someone with some mental issues, brought to the climbing gym to try out climbing as a therapy to help him to perhaps quiet some strongly intrusive (violent, abusive?) thoughts.
Normally I would not be able to help myself but to judge other people, but since some of the greatest climbers in the world also scream like they are giving birth to a baby without epidurals when they attempt really difficult climbs (eg. Chris Sharma, Adam Ondra), I knew pretty early on that screaming had a function.
Our guess was that this was his first time trying out climbing, and he insisted on wearing a helmet so it would help him feel more safe and secure about the activity. We didn't want to be impolite and stare at him too much, so we continued our own climbs on the other end of the wall. We could hear his torturous screaming, then there would be a break, then he would start screaming again. It was obviously pretty awkward for everyone else in the gym, but it kind of made me feel happy too, because I think he knows that the activity is helping him, so he must have made a second climb, or at least took a break and then kept going.
Again, I always find the most fascinating part about climbing to be the mental part more than the physical aspect. I also have racing, random, ruminating, and intrusive thoughts. When you are on the wall hanging on for dear life, those thoughts are forced to take a break. So for a few moments, the brain experiences fear (of heights, of the unfamiliarity with the body being in funny 3D positions), and simultaneously welcoming peace from nagging, wordy, annoying thoughts.
The thing is, if the climb is not intense enough, that is, when my body and brain start to feel quite comfortable hanging out or moving about on a route, the thoughts would come back. So basically, if I am experiencing nagging thoughts again, it's time to try a harder route. I'm at a stage where I feel like I have trouble finding Goldilock routes, that is, routes not so easy where my brain starts yapping at me about my daily worries, and routes not so tough that I need to take a break after every move I try. I need routes that a physically challenging, intense, but at the same time, allow me to perform some flowy movements. Not something easy to balance.
An interview with Dr. Gabor Maté, an expert on addiction, reminds me how fast brains adapts to chemicals and stimulants. It also reminds me how we are often unconsciously drawn to drugs and everyday activities that our brains inherently need. When we take drugs, either prescribed or illegal, our brains adapt to the normal dosages rather quickly, and we need to increase the dosage until the side effects do terrible things to our body. In the case of climbing and other sports, our brain and body also adapt quite quickly, but we just need to increase the intensity or difficulty of the activity.
For that man with the helmet, I hope climbing is helpful for him, and I hope he can keep doing it if he finds it helpful.
Normally I would not be able to help myself but to judge other people, but since some of the greatest climbers in the world also scream like they are giving birth to a baby without epidurals when they attempt really difficult climbs (eg. Chris Sharma, Adam Ondra), I knew pretty early on that screaming had a function.
Our guess was that this was his first time trying out climbing, and he insisted on wearing a helmet so it would help him feel more safe and secure about the activity. We didn't want to be impolite and stare at him too much, so we continued our own climbs on the other end of the wall. We could hear his torturous screaming, then there would be a break, then he would start screaming again. It was obviously pretty awkward for everyone else in the gym, but it kind of made me feel happy too, because I think he knows that the activity is helping him, so he must have made a second climb, or at least took a break and then kept going.
Again, I always find the most fascinating part about climbing to be the mental part more than the physical aspect. I also have racing, random, ruminating, and intrusive thoughts. When you are on the wall hanging on for dear life, those thoughts are forced to take a break. So for a few moments, the brain experiences fear (of heights, of the unfamiliarity with the body being in funny 3D positions), and simultaneously welcoming peace from nagging, wordy, annoying thoughts.
The thing is, if the climb is not intense enough, that is, when my body and brain start to feel quite comfortable hanging out or moving about on a route, the thoughts would come back. So basically, if I am experiencing nagging thoughts again, it's time to try a harder route. I'm at a stage where I feel like I have trouble finding Goldilock routes, that is, routes not so easy where my brain starts yapping at me about my daily worries, and routes not so tough that I need to take a break after every move I try. I need routes that a physically challenging, intense, but at the same time, allow me to perform some flowy movements. Not something easy to balance.
An interview with Dr. Gabor Maté, an expert on addiction, reminds me how fast brains adapts to chemicals and stimulants. It also reminds me how we are often unconsciously drawn to drugs and everyday activities that our brains inherently need. When we take drugs, either prescribed or illegal, our brains adapt to the normal dosages rather quickly, and we need to increase the dosage until the side effects do terrible things to our body. In the case of climbing and other sports, our brain and body also adapt quite quickly, but we just need to increase the intensity or difficulty of the activity.
For that man with the helmet, I hope climbing is helpful for him, and I hope he can keep doing it if he finds it helpful.
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